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Dimitri chimes in, “Never thought I’d see the day. Luka Ivankov, building skyscrapers instead of trouble.”
Luka grins, “Turns out there’s quite a bit of money in the construction world. Just secured another land deal last week. And believe me, it’s all by the book.”
I can’t help but beam with pride, looking up at him. He skyrocketed to the top in record time, and not just in the underworld, but in some boardroom somewhere. It’s heartwarming to see the respect he commands, how far he’s come in such a short time. It’s kinda badass, actually.
Luka pulls me close, breaking into my thoughts. His voice is deep and rough as he says, “All those deals and hustles? They’re nothing compared to what I’ve built now.”
Dimitri smirks, eyebrow arched. “Clearly,” he teases, letting his gaze linger a moment too long on my belly. “Completely done with your old life, Luka?”
Luka’s eyes, deep with emotion, find mine.
“There’s not a thing in this world that could make me miss that life. Not when I have this.” He protectively places his hand over my belly before leaning over to press a quick kiss on Natalya’s cheek.
Erik, always ready with a quip, leans in and asks, “So, another one on the way, huh? Going for a soccer team?”
My laughter bubbles forth, light and genuine. “Well, why not?” I jest, raising a brow in mock consideration.
The early evening sky gently blends shades of pink and purple together, a backdrop to the festive atmosphere below. As Luka and I walk towards our home, the unmistakable sounds of a children’s party fill the air – a mix of laughter, playful shrieks, and the muffled bass of music.
Behind us, I notice Erik and Dimitri lagging a bit, their voices becoming distant as they get caught up in their own conversation.
“More business chatter,” Luka dismisses with a wave, but I can tell his focus is drifting. His eyes are fixed on our home, lost in quiet contemplation.
“You’d think it’s just another one of Yulia’s playdates,” I comment, observing the informal setup in our backyard. There’s no elaborate decor or fancy arrangements. Just a group of energetic pre-teens chasing each other, some gathered around a makeshift karaoke setup, and others huddled in a corner, their heads bent over a board game. A few parents chat nearby, sipping on their drinks, occasionally interjecting to remind the kids to “play nice.”
“It’s Yulia’s style,” Luka says, smiling. “She wanted her birthday to be like this. Just fun with her friends, nothing too grand.”
Natalya is snug in Luka’s arms, content and sleepy, her eyes tracking the movement of the older kids. I can’t help but chuckle. “Looks like someone may miss out on the party.”
Luka grins. “Just a few more years, and she’ll be running around with them.” He halts our stride, turning to face me. The last hints of daylight reflect in his eyes, deepening the pools of emotion they already hold. He leans down, his voice tender, resonating with a depth of emotion. “Ya tak tebya lyublyu, moya koroleva,” he murmurs in Russian. Those words, “I love you so much, my queen,” make my heart melt. Natalya coos sleepily against Luka’s chest as if she’s agreeing with her father’s sentiment.
Blame it on the baby hormones – I find myself tearing up. Seriously, this little one owes me for the emotional roller coaster!
“Moy dorogoy,” I begin, surprising even myself with the fluency of my Russian, “Tvoi slova zastavlyayut menya chuvstvovat’ sebya kak edinstvennaya zhenshchina na svete.” Admitting that his words make me feel like the only woman in the world feels both vulnerable and empowering.
Luka’s eyebrows raise, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Your Russian has improved so much. I’m truly impressed,” he teases.
I chuckle quietly, glancing at Natalya, who’s nestled peacefully against Luka’s firm chest. “I have the best teacher,” I tease, winking back at him.
His embrace tightens around both of us and as the world fades away, leaving our little family in this intimate moment, he whispers, “This right here…this is everything.”
