Page 130 of The Enemy Protector
From what I know, she's not on birth control. I would know. I know everything about her life.
The thought that she could be carrying my child hits with a violence I don't expect.
Not lust.
Terror.
Because if Sofia is mine, I protect her.
If she's carrying my child, I become something worse.
We get dressed in silence, stealing glances at each other like teenagers. When we’re both decent, I pull her against me. “From now on, you’ll sleep in my bed.”
She opens her mouth like she’s going to argue. I stare at her.
“I really hate that you’re so bossy.”
“No, you don’t.”
She shakes her head and steps away. “I’m hungry.”
I almost smile.
She has no fucking idea what she just set in motion.
29
Sofia
I decide on the pasta because it's the one thing I can make that doesn't require instructions.
I'm not a cook. We’ve always had personal chefs.
But I watched a couple of cooking videos. I’m pretty sure I can figure it out.
There’s a pull I can’t explain. Nesting. I feel the need to take care of my man.
My man. My husband.
It’s all very domestic. Something I never imagined I would ever be. I’ve been spending the last ten years preparing myself to be the leader of a bratva.
And now I’m making spaghetti. From a box, but still. It’s more than I’ve ever done before.
I’ve got my favorite playlist on and a glass of wine that I pulled from his cellar. I’m not thinking about Yuri or my dad or the job that still waits for me.
I’m giving myself tonight to simply be a wife and imagine what a normal life might look like.
He'll be home by eight. He’s not expecting me to make him dinner.
This is something I want to do.
Does a cheap spaghetti dinner solve all our issues? No. Not even a little. But it’s a start.
The guards are on the standard rotation. Two on the door, one in the car out front, one in the back. The brownstone is secure. I keep telling myself that. Sergei is obsessive about security. But it does feel strange not to have a massive fence around me.
There’s a gun in the drawer to my left.
Sergei didn’t come right out and tell me where all of his stash guns are, but I’ve found a few during my snooping. I’m used to always having something on me or within reach. It’s a source of comfort knowing I can protect myself should the unthinkable happen.
