40. Emma
Emma
One month later
Morning sunlight streams through the windows, catching on the ultrasound photos clipped beneath one of Kate’s watercolor magnets.
I can’t seem to stop looking at them. Yesterday’s appointment already feels like a dream.
The tiny image on glossy paper somehow represents a whole little person who has quietly changed everything.
A soft thump behind me draws my attention away.
Kate slips into the kitchen with an overnight bag slung over one shoulder, dressed in jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. She smiles when she sees me, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. The confident pre-teen I’ve come to know suddenly looks several years younger.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself.”
She shifts her weight awkwardly, adjusting the strap of her bag for what must be the third time in ten seconds.
I smile gently. “Come here.”
She hesitates before climbing onto the stool beside mine, tucking one foot beneath the other. Up close, the nervousness is impossible to miss.
“You okay?”
Kate lets out a long breath. “I think so.”
“You think so?”
“I...” She chews on her lip for a second before the words tumble out. “What if my mom doesn’t like me?”
I blink.
“Kate...”
“What if she thinks I’m too loud?” she continues in a rush. “Or too girly. Or annoying. Or that I talk too much. I mean, I definitely talk too much.”
A small laugh escapes me despite the seriousness of the moment.
“I don’t think that’s possible. You two have already hung out a few times.”
“Yeah, but this is a sleepover. At her house! And you’ve only known me for a few months.”
“I’ve known you long enough to know you’re wonderful, Kate.”
She sighs dramatically. “You have to say that.”
“I really don’t. It’s not like I’m married to your uncle.”
Her eyes narrow as she gives me a little smirk. I cut her off before she can start teasing me about a possible engagement in the near future.
“Kate, Shannon has spent years wondering if she’d ever get to see you again. She isn’t showing up today with a checklist of personality traits.”
Kate’s shoulders loosen just a little. “She isn’t?”
“No.”
“Even if I ramble?”
“Especially if you ramble. She’d probably love to hear all about your life and the things you love to do.”
She laughs softly, bringing the bag around to her chest and hugging it tight.
I continue, “Do you know why she bought that little house in Thousand Oaks?”
Kate nods uncertainly. “Because she wanted to be closer.”
“Exactly.”
“She could’ve lived anywhere.”
“She chose to be close to you.”
Kate stares down at where I’ve slipped my hand into hers. “I didn’t really think about it like that.”
“She’s excited, Kate. Nervous too, I’m sure. But mostly excited.”
A quiet smile slowly spreads across her face. “I guess that makes two of us.”
“I’d say so.”
She leans sideways without warning, wrapping both arms around me in a tight hug.
“Thanks, Emma.”
I hug her back just as tightly.
“You’ve got this.”
“I hope so.”
Kate pulls away, grabs her overnight bag, and heads toward the front door before abruptly stopping.
“Oh!”
She jogs back over, crouches dramatically in front of me, and hovers both hands over my stomach.
“Bye, cuz!”
I burst out laughing.
“You are such a dork.”
“I know.” She grins at my belly one last time, and with that, she springs back to her feet and hurries outside, where a car idles in the driveway.
I watch from the kitchen window as she climbs into the passenger seat, still smiling despite the nerves. Shannon reaches across the center console to squeeze her daughter’s hand before pulling away from the curb.
* * *
It’s only a few hours later that I find myself distracted, alone in an empty house, with manila folders spread out before me.
This little office that Rus gave me is smaller than the one he originally offered, but it is already a mess. When he asked if I wanted to “help out” with the business, I’d laughed in his face. But then he brought me to a meeting, without telling me where we were going, and I got to see it all.
The careful planning.
The financial layout, which included fair payouts to the women.
The control they had over their lives. Everything from housing to which doctor they wanted to see for their biweekly checkups.
It was hard to say no when I got to see how empowered the handful of women representing the escort service clearly felt—how they voiced their opinions to a Bratva Pakhan without even flinching.
Which is how I ended up profiling potential new employees. Each folder holds a dossier, a photo, and a story that breaks my heart every single time I read it. Rus has gone out of his way to make sure the women involved in this business are given a second chance, a clean record, and no judgement.
A light knock on the doorframe makes me jump.
When I turn, he’s standing there in a beige suit that shouldn’t look so handsome on anyone. But it makes his pale silver-blonde hair look striking, his eyes even more so, and the glasses perched on the tip of his nose tie my stomach in knots.
“Hi,” I say, watching him squint.
“Hi.” He steps into the room, unbuttoning the suit jacket and casually putting one hand in a pocket. “What are you up to? You sound a little suspicious.”
I can’t help the coy smile that slips onto my lips.
“Nothing. Just got a little distracted.”
My eyes drag down that suit. My fingertips itch with the desire to trace every hard ridge and plane of the muscles I know lie beneath.
“Mmm,” Ruslan hums, stalking closer, like a predator toward his prey. It sends a delighted shiver through my body. “Those first trimester hormones, is it, l’vyonak?”
I feel my cheeks heat up as my breathing picks up.
This was not a symptom that I’ve ever been warned about. I don’t know what it is, but ever since Colorado I can barely keep my hands off Ruslan.
Luckily, he doesn’t want me to.
Coming ever closer, he reaches out and tugs at the tie to the high-waisted skirt I have on. I’m not anywhere near showing, but thoughts of pregnancy and having a child are adding a new aspect to Lord our pace picks up, the small room filled with the sound of our skin meeting over and over, the sound of Ruslan’s lips sucking and his teeth biting as I cry out at the pleasure-pain of it.
Soon, almost too soon, the chair is creaking under us and it’s getting dangerous with how wet I am and how fast we’re moving. Rus grunts as he guides me down on his length, over and over, hands gripping the back of my waist and smacking my ass hard.
I orgasm when he leans forward, buries his face in my tits, and bites just hard enough to leave a mark.
Someone will see it unless I suddenly become a lot more modest in my wardrobe.
But that mark, that claim on me, sends me over the edge. My pussy squeezes him tight, dragging hot and wet over and over again as my vision greys out.
Rus’ arms come around my waist and hold me tight against him as he thrusts up into me. My muscles are giving up, loosening, and I can barely prop myself upright as I feel him throb once, twice, and spill into me.
His hot cum runs down my thighs, but it doesn’t stop him groaning “Emma” and continuing to fuck me like he really is trying to get me pregnant, even though I’m already carrying his child.
When it’s over, we’re both out of breath and boneless. Ruslan’s jacket is torn at the shoulder seam, and my skirt is dark with smeared cum.
I love it.
I want this every night. I want this for the rest of my life.
That thought scares me, and as I meet Ruslan’s eyes, I swear I see the same edge of fear in his. The realization that this is more than we ever meant it to be.
“You’re okay?” he asks, caressing my waist to my hip and keeping me steady on his lap. I nod, not ready for words yet, and get off him carefully, trying not to knock anything else over in the process.
Once we both catch our breath, Rus glances once at the folders on the desk and takes me by the hand, leading me toward the staircase and our bedroom.
“Business comes later,” he says—a sentence that I’m sure would mortify most crime bosses. “I want to get you washed up and put to bed. You should rest, l’vyonak.”
I follow him without question.
Trusting that he’ll take care of me.
Of us.
Because I’m just as much his as he is mine, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.