With a sigh, I begin my daily routine. Moisturizer, foundation, concealer to hide the dark circles under my eyes. Mascara, a touch of blush, neutral lipstick. I style my long pale hair into soft waves, the way Niko likes it. Every move is calculated, a desperate attempt to hold his attention, to make him see me as more than just a convenience. Finally, I pop two St. John’s Wort capsules, which I’ve been taking to try and elevate my mood. I really need that boost today.
I know I’m only feeling sorry for myself because I’m missing my bestie. Roisin has found the love of her life, her soulmate, and now she has her baby. She’s moved on… in the best possible way. There are more important people in her life than me, and I’m happy for her; truly, I am. I just wish I had even a tiny fraction of what she does.
The thought of babies brings me up short as a swirl of familiar nausea rushes through me, and I stagger backwards until the backs of my knees hit the bathtub and I collapse onto the side of it.
My hand flies to my mouth as pieces fall into place. The nausea, the weight loss, the fatigue - could it be? I try to remember when I last had a period, but it’s been… waaay too long. Much more than a month. More than two, even. My cycle is often light and has never been very reliable, especially since I’ve had my contraceptive implant, so I haven’t missed it.
A whirlwind of emotions crashes over me. Joy, fear, uncertainty, and a desperate, clawing hope. Could it be possible? I know contraceptives are never 100%, but the doctor assured Niko the implant was the most reliable. It was his insistence that I have something so dependable, so we didn’t chance a surprise pregnancy, even though I really wanted to start a family. At twenty-eight, I’m not getting any younger, after all.
Oh damn, he’ll be so mad. This is exactly what he didn’t want.
I put a hand to my forehead. I need to stop second guessing things without anything tangible. It’s probably nothing, but at least it’s one thing I can determine here and now.
Standing on shaky legs, I rummage through the cabinets until I find a spare pregnancy test left over from when I had to buy some for Roisin, so her brothers didn’t find out.
My hand trembles so badly, I nearly fumble the small, plastic-wrapped stick onto the tile. Eventually, I manage to tear open the test with my teeth when my fingers won’t cooperate and sit back down on the edge of the massive claw footed bathtub, my pulse hammering in my throat as I read and reread the instructions printed in minuscule type. It’s pretty straightforward. Pee on the stick. Even I can't mess this up. I do exactly as it says then prepare to wait for the five interminable minutes, every tick of the clock an accusation of my stupidity, or my hope. Of course I peek at the window after three, okay - maybe thirty seconds - as soon as the liquid crawls across the display.
The answer is already there. It’s instant. Two pink lines, so vivid they’re almost luminous. Positive. Pregnant.
I freeze as I stare at the proof. My mind races. My stomach swoops with terror, but it’s overwhelmed by a flutter of happiness so sharp it hurts. I press a shaking palm to my belly, as if I might already feel something there, some spark of newness, some promise or curse.
Could this be what changes everything? Will Niko finally see me as more than just a warm body in his bed who happens to share his name if I give him an heir?
I run through the dates in my head again, trying to get them straight, but I can’t pinpoint when I might have conceived.
I think of Niko’s cold distance, his restless, prowling energy, the way he looks through me like I’m just a fixture in his immaculately curated life. But now… now I have a secret, and once he knows it, it could change everything. It already has. Finally, I’ll have someone of my very own. A child who will always be mine, no matter what.
I close my eyes and allow the fear to come. The certainty that nothing good can last. But also, something more radiant: an unshakeable hope. Maybe this child will be the thing that makes me whole, or at least less empty. Maybe Niko will soften just a little, let me in closer. Maybe I’ll finally have a family.
I sink to the floor, the test clutched to my chest, as tears stream down my face. This child could be my salvation, the key to unlocking Niko's heart. Or it could be my undoing. In the brutal world of the Bratva, children are both blessings and liabilities.
I need to tell him, but the thought of facing Niko with this news terrifies me. What if he truly doesn't want it? What if he sees this child as a burden? My mind races with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last.
I force myself to take deep breaths, steadying my nerves. No, I can't think like that. This is good news. It has to be. Niko may be cold, but surely even he wouldn't reject his own flesh and blood. He may not have wanted children just yet, but now it’s happened…
With my entire body still quivering, I get up and hide the test in my bedside drawer. I need time to process this, to figure out the best way to break the news. Niko won't be home until late, if he comes home at all, so I have hours to prepare. With trembling hands, I type out a text, telling him we need to talk, but in the end, I chicken out, and end up sending him a pathetic, generic greeting. Dear lord, what’s wrong with me? Why did I send anything at all? I’m losing it. I must have baby-brain already.
As I dress for the day, I look at myself in the full-length mirror and my hand drifts to my still-flat stomach. There's no visible sign yet, but knowing what I know now, I swear I can feel a difference. A fullness, a presence that wasn't there before.
"Hello, little one," I whisper, a small smile tugging at my lips. "I'll keep you safe, I promise. Whatever happens, you’ll never know anything but love."
Chapter Two
NIKO
I try to rub the memory of Emylyah’s face this morning out of my mind, but her expression keeps coming back to haunt me. Fuck, I’m a bastard. Not that she didn’t know that going in. Or did she?
Were there stars in her eyes when I proposed? Or the same quiet sadness I see in her eyes so much of the time these days?
I should have taken more time with her this morning. Made sure she got off at least, but I was too focused on my own release. The guilt gnaws at me as I straighten my tie, preparing for another day of meetings and negotiations. I tell myself I'll make it up to her tonight, but deep down I know it's a lie. There's always another deal to close, another rival to outmaneuver.
The car pulls up and I slide into the cool leather interior, my mind already shifting to business mode. As we weave through traffic, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the tinted window. For a moment, I barely recognize the hard-eyed man staring back at me. When did I become this person? Nah - I’ve been this way since I was a fucking teenager. This is exactly why I keep Emylyah at arm’s length, even going as far as using her full name instead of Lyah, the shortened version she prefers. She softens me, and in the world of the Bratva, that’s never a good thing. Far better for both my allies and my enemies to believe she’s simply an arranged marriage of convenience - which she was - and not anyone I care about. Safer for both of us.
My phone buzzes with a message from her. I hesitate before opening it, bracing myself for accusations or cold indifference after the way I treated her this morning. Instead, it's a simple ‘Have a good day.’ The unexpected kindness twists something inside me. I start to type a response, then delete it. What could I possibly say? It’s best not to entertain such nonsense. Too many pitfalls. Instead, I switch to a message from Maximillian Smith, or Million as he prefers to be known, requesting a meeting to discuss additional shipping privileges from the Brooklyn ports we control. Since he asked us for an introduction to Ciaran and Callum Maguire of the Irish mob, who control the docks in Manhattan’s Hell’s Kitchen area, I know he must be expanding, but since the billionaire mogul who moved here from the West Coast is dealing in counterfeit luxury goods - mainly women's wear and accessories, and isn’t affiliated to any of the competing syndicates here in the East, we’ve all quietly decided he’s better as an ally, even if he is a little pushy when it comes to matchmaking his socialite daughter, Catriona. Especially since his attempts to pair her off with Ciaran Maguire have failed now Ciaran’s officially with Maricela.
I once again thank my lucky stars I’m married, since Million has switched his focus to Darian. He hasn’t come right out and said it, but the man’s really just looking for a more ‘personal’ arrangement to cement his shipping alliances. Unfortunately for him, his daughter’s a spoiled princess and therefore a first-class bitch.
The car comes to a stop outside an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Brooklyn. I exit, nodding to my security detail as they fan out around the perimeter. The acrid smell of motor oil and rust assaults my nostrils as I push open the heavy metal door.