Page 119 of Arranged Marriage to the Brutal Bratva King
“Good. Terror means you care.”
“I care so much it’s going to destroy me if anything happens to either of you.”
I cup his face in my hands, forcing him to meet my eyes. “Nothing’s going to happen. We’ve survived worse than pregnancy.”
“This is different.”
“I know.”
He kisses me then, soft and reverent and nothing like the claiming passion I’m used to. This is promise and protection and commitment deeper than any marriage vows.
When we break apart, he rests his forehead against mine.
“We’re having a baby,” he says, like testing the words.
“We’re having a baby.”
“Our baby.”
“Yes.”
A smile breaks across his face, genuine and unguarded and so beautiful it makes my chest ache. “We’re going to need more space. A nursery. Security upgrades. Medical care—the best obstetrician money can buy.”
“Dimitri, it’s a bit early for that.”
“We’ll need to decide on names. Start looking at schools. Manhattan has some excellent nurseries.”
I kiss him to stop the spiral. “We have nine months. We don’t need to solve everything today.”
“I know.” His hand settles over my still-flat stomach. “I want them safe. From the moment they exist, I want them protected.”
“They will be. We’ll make sure of it.”
***
Seven months later, I’m enormous and uncomfortable and absolutely done with pregnancy.
Dimitri hovers like I’m made of glass, which is sweet and infuriating in equal measure. He’s rearranged his entire schedule around doctor’s appointments, reads parenting books with the same intensity he applies to business negotiations, and has already interviewed more security personnel than most small countries employ.
“You’re nesting,” I observe, watching him reorganize the nursery for the third time.
“I’m preparing.”
“You’re panicking.”
“Yes. I’m panicking.”
“Come here.”
He crosses to where I’m perched on the window seat, still the most comfortable position I can find. His hand finds my stomach immediately, feeling the baby’s movements.
“They’re strong,” he says with awe that hasn’t diminished despite months of feeling kicks.
“They’re your child. Of course they’re strong.”
The baby kicks against his palm, and Dimitri’s entire face softens. I’ve seen him kill without hesitation, dismantle empires with ruthless efficiency, make decisions that terrify hardened criminals.
Nothing prepares me for how he looks at my pregnant belly like it’s the most precious thing in the world.
