Chapter 49
MARIYA
Igroan as I push myself up from the couch in Andrey's office, my hand bracing against the armrest for support.
Seven months pregnant, and I feel like I've forgotten how my own body works.
Everything is clumsy now. Stiff. My center of gravity has shifted so far forward that I waddle more than walk, and getting out of chairs requires strategic planning.
"You okay?" Andrey glances up from the documents spread across his desk, his blue eyes tracking my movements with that protective intensity I've grown used to.
"Fine." I stretch my back, trying to ease the constant ache that's taken up residence in my lower spine. "Just tired of feeling like a beached whale."
His lips curve into a small smile. "You're beautiful."
"You're biased."
"Doesn't make it less true."
I move to the window overlooking the estate grounds, my hand resting on the swell of my belly. The baby kicks, a flutter of movement that still catches me off guard sometimes. But now I've somewhat settled into a routine.
Every morning, I meet Andrey for breakfast downstairs.
He's always up before me, usually already dressed and reviewing reports by the time I shuffle into the dining room.
We eat together, talk about nothing important, and for those brief moments, it feels like we're just a normal couple expecting their first child.
Later, I come to his office to check if there's any news about my father.
Twice a week, Andrey takes me to the cemetery where my aunt is buried, and we check the headstone for messages.
My father hasn't left anything yet. No notes.
No signs that he's even alive. The silence is worse than bad news because at least bad news would be an answer.
In the afternoons, Sophia and I get together. We shop for baby things, drink tea in the garden, or just talk about everything except the dangerous information we are all sitting on.
Evenings are my favorite. When Andrey doesn't have business, we spend time together in our bedroom. We watch movies, talk about the baby, or just exist in the same space without needing to fill the silence. It's peaceful in a way I never expected my life to be.
"Any updates?" I ask, turning from the window.
Andrey sets down the paper he's reading and leans back in his chair. "Nothing concrete. The families we've contacted are being cautious. No one wants to make a move until we're certain who we can trust."
I nod, understanding the delicate position we're in. The information we have about the conspiracy to control the Bratva could destroy entire families if it falls into the wrong hands. But it could also save lives if we use it correctly.
"How many families have agreed to meet?" I move back toward the couch, lowering myself carefully onto the cushions.
"Seven so far. Maybe eight if Dmitri stops being paranoid long enough to commit." Andrey stands and crosses to the small bar cart near the bookshelf, pouring himself a measure of vodka. "It's enough to start building a coalition."
"And the others? The ones working with whoever is behind this?"
His jaw tightens. "We'll deal with them when the time comes."
The violence in his voice doesn't scare me anymore. I've learned that Andrey's world operates on different rules. Loyalty is everything. Betrayal is unforgivable. And sometimes, the only way to protect what you love is to destroy what threatens it.
"Come here," I say softly.
He looks at me, his blue eyes warming slightly. Then he sets down his glass and moves to sit beside me on the couch. I shift, turning so my back is to him, and he immediately understands what I need.
His hands settle on my shoulders, strong fingers digging into the knots of tension there. I groan at the pressure, my head falling forward as he works the tight muscles.
"Better?" His voice is low, intimate.
"So much better." I close my eyes, letting the sensation wash over me. "You're too good at this."
"I'm motivated." His thumbs press along my spine, working their way down. "Happy wife, happy life."
I smile despite myself. The massage continues, his hands moving with practiced ease across my shoulders, down my back, and along my sides. It feels so good, I'm half asleep by the time he finishes, my body relaxed and warm.
"Thank you," I murmur.
"Anytime." He presses a kiss to the top of my head, then shifts so I'm leaning back against his chest. His arms wrap around me, his hands resting on my extended belly.
We sit like that for a while, quiet and content. Then Andrey speaks, his voice careful.
"I need to leave for a week."
I stiffen immediately, turning my head to look at him. "What? When?"
"In a few days." His expression is serious, apologetic. "The families I've been communicating with, the ones who aren't part of the conspiracy, we're meeting. Planning our next moves."
My stomach drops. "Where?"
"I can't tell you that. Not yet." His hand tightens on my hip. "It's safer if you don't know the details."
"I want to come with you."
"No."
The word is flat, final. I twist in his arms, facing him fully. "Andrey—"
"None of the wives or girlfriends are going," he says firmly. "We're keeping this meeting as quiet as possible. The fewer people who know about it, the better. We can't risk drawing attention."
I want to argue, want to demand that he take me with him. But I know he's right. A gathering of Bratva leaders is dangerous enough without adding pregnant women to the mix.
"How long will you be gone?" I ask instead.
"A week. Maybe less if things go smoothly." His hand cups my face, his thumb brushing along my cheekbone. "Matvey will stay here. He'll make sure you and Sophia are safe."
"I don't need a babysitter."
"You need protection." His voice hardens slightly. "There are people who would use you to get to me, Mariya. I'm not taking that risk."
I know he's thinking about the conspiracy, about the families who want control of the Bratva and won't hesitate to hurt anyone in their way. The thought makes my skin crawl.
"Fine," I say quietly. "But you'd better come back in one piece."
"I will." He leans down and kisses me, slow and deep, like he's trying to memorize the taste of me. When he pulls back, his blue eyes are intense. "I promise."
Later that evening, we're in our bedroom watching a movie. I'm settled between Andrey's spread legs, my back against his chest while his hands work magic on my shoulders again. The tension from earlier has returned, settling into my muscles like it lives there now.
"You're tense," he murmurs against my ear.
"I'm always tense." I tilt my head to the side, giving him better access to my neck. "Comes with the territory."
His lips brush against my throat, sending heat through me despite my exhaustion. "I can help with that."
"You're already helping." I close my eyes, focusing on the feel of his hands on my skin. "This is perfect."
The movie plays in the background, some action film Andrey picked that I'm only half paying attention to.
My mind keeps drifting to the meeting he's leaving for, to the danger he'll be walking into.
I know he can handle himself. I've seen what he's capable of.
But that doesn't stop the fear from creeping in.
"Stop thinking so loud," Andrey says, his hands moving down to massage my lower back.
"I'm not thinking loud."
"You are. I can feel it." His fingers press into a particularly tight spot, and I gasp. "You're worried about the meeting."
"Of course I'm worried." I shift slightly, trying to ease the pressure on my bladder. The baby has decided my internal organs make excellent punching bags. "You're walking into a room full of Bratva leaders who may or may not be trustworthy. How am I supposed to not worry?"
"By trusting that I know what I'm doing." His voice is calm and confident. "I've survived this long, Mariya. I'm not planning to stop now."
I want to believe him. I want to trust that everything will be fine. But I've learned that nothing in this world is guaranteed.
"Promise me you'll be careful," I say quietly.
"I promise." He turns me in his arms so we're facing each other, his gaze serious. "I'm coming back to you. To both of you." His hand settles on my belly, warm and possessive. "Nothing is going to stop that."
I lean forward and kiss him, pouring all my fear and love and desperation into it. He responds immediately, his hand tangling in my hair as he deepens the kiss. For a moment, everything else fades away. The conspiracy, the danger, and the uncertainty. It's just us, together, and that's enough.
When we finally break apart, I'm breathless and flushed. Andrey's eyes are dark with desire, but he doesn't push for more. He just holds me, his arms strong and steady around me.
"I love you," I whisper.
"I love you too." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "More than anything."
We settle back into our previous position, my back against his chest while the movie continues playing. His hands resume their massage, working out the knots in my shoulders with patient determination. I'm half asleep when he speaks again, his voice cutting through the comfortable silence.
"I received word earlier today."
I straighten immediately, my heart jumping. "About what?"
His hands still on my shoulders. "We might have a lead on your father."