"Thank you, Niko," she says softly, her hand briefly touching my arm. The gesture is casual, almost unconscious, yet it sends a jolt through me. "I think I'll be fine, but I appreciate your concern."
There it is again - that quiet self-assurance. It's disconcerting how much I miss her usual eagerness to comply with my every suggestion. I'm not used to this... independence.
"Emylyah," I start, my tone firmer now. "I insist…”
"Niko," she interrupts gently, her eyes meeting mine. "I understand you're worried, but I know my body. If anything feels off, I promise I'll let you know immediately. For right now, I think rest is more important."
I clench my jaw, trying not to appear completely gob smacked, torn between admiration for this newfound strength and frustration at my loss of control. She never would have disputed my wishes in the past. Not from fear, but because of her eagerness to do my bidding, regardless of how she felt about my demands.
“Fine," I concede, my voice gruff. "But first thing tomorrow, no arguments."
She nods, a small smile playing on her lips. "Goodnight, Niko," she says, then turns and walks towards our suite, and for the first time in our marriage, I don’t feel like I have the right to follow her.
I watch her go, my eyes fixed on her retreating form. The sway of her hips, the quiet confidence in her stride - it's all so familiar yet so foreign. I find myself rooted to the spot, a cyclone of conflicting emotions churning inside me.
Part of me wants to follow her, to assert my authority and demand answers. Who is this woman who's returned to me? What happened during that week to change her so profoundly? But another part, a part I'm not entirely comfortable acknowledging, is intrigued. Drawn to this new version of Emylyah like a moth to a flame.
I run a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. This isn't how things are supposed to be. I'm Nikolai Radaeva, for Christ's sake. I don't get rattled by a woman, not even my pregnant wife. I don't stand here like some lovesick fool, watching her walk away and feeling... what? Lost? Uncertain?
Shaking my head, I turn and head to my office. Sleep isn't an option right now, anyway. I need to regain control, to remind myself of who I am and why.
Tomorrow things will be back to normal, I’m sure.
Chapter 22
LYAH
Even though Niko rescued me he's been aloof since we got back. His face etched with lines of worry I haven’t been able to interpret.
In the past I would have fretted and analyzed my every word, reassessed every action. Now I’m content to let it go and not let it take up real estate in my mind. I’m here if he wants to speak to me.
For the sake of the baby, I’ll get a checkup with the doctor, to make sure everything is okay after all that’s happened, but I haven’t noticed any ill effects, and the small flutters I’ve been feeling have developed into proper kicks, which puts my mind at ease.
Niko didn’t come to bed last night, and before, I would have been distraught about it, wondering where he was and who he was with. Yesterday, I was just glad to sleep in the safety of my own bed.
This new mindset is… freeing.
As I make my way down to breakfast, I'm struck by how different everything feels. The opulent hallways that once intimidated me now seem gaudy. I run my fingers along the ornate wallpaper, realizing how little it matters compared to the life growing inside me, and the safety this compound provides.
The dining room is empty when I arrive, save for a place setting at my usual spot. I smile, but it’s kinda sad. I guess some things don’t change. But there is a difference, and it's me.
"Mrs. Radaeva," our housekeeper Maria exclaims, bustling in with a tray. "I wasn't expecting you so early. Shall I fetch the master?"
"No need, Maria," I reply, helping myself to some fruit. "I'm sure he'll join me if he’s able. And please, call me Lyah."
She blinks, clearly thrown by my casual demeanor, but nods and scurries back to the kitchen. I think I unnerved her. Oh well.
As I sip my tea, I hear Niko's heavy footsteps approaching. I brace myself, unsure what version of him I'll face this morning. But whichever it is, I’ll deal with it however I feel most comfortable. I no longer have the energy to pander to his whims. It’s too exhausting. If he doesn’t like it… well, he can take it or leave it. He’s already proven he’ll do exactly that, no matter how I tried to do anything and everything to keep him happy in the past.
He enters, impeccably dressed as always, but there's a tightness around his eyes that betrays his lack of sleep. His gaze sweeps over me, lingering on my casual attire - another pair of leggings and a soft, flowing top.
"Good morning," I say, meeting his eyes without hesitation.
He pauses, as if thrown off by my direct gaze. "Morning," he replies gruffly, taking his seat at the head of the table. "I've arranged for Dr. Zelensky to meet you in the medical room whenever you're done with breakfast.”
Yes, the compound has its own, fully equipped medical center. A necessity when you’re as immersed in organized crime as the Bratva.
I nod, taking another bite of my fruit salad. "Thank you. That works for me."
