Furthermore, Maddox has only just returned home after years of absence. Tonight is not the time to grill him for information. Tomorrow. . . that’s a different kettle of fish.
My focus returns to the present when cheered roars boom through my ears. Being late to the game, Landon has come out of tonight’s exchange victorious. . . although the shiner on his cheek displays it was a close call.
“Some things never change,” I say with a smile.
Nikolai grins. “Are you saying I should have Popov housemaids hide the liquor before their visit next month?”
My eyes snap to his. This isn’t the first time he’s mentioned a Walsh trip to Vegas, but it’s the first time he’s said it so matter-of-factly.
After tucking a wayward red curl behind my ear, he twists his torso until he’s facing me head on. “We should start plans soon. You’re already showing.”
Because his eyes drop to my stomach so quickly, he misses mine widening in shock.What the hell is he talking about?
After a longing glance at my belly, he returns his devotion to my face. The confusion heating my cheeks jumps to his when he spots my stitched brows and quirked lips. He’s truly stumped about why I look so dumbfounded.
With a smirk, he informs me, “Our wedding,Ahren.If you don’t want your belly seen in your dress, we should plan to wed before the end of summer. I don’t mind either way, but I figured the sooner the better.”
I choke on my spit. “Our wedding?”
Nikolai nods without pause, his smirk picking up from my high tone.
The haughtiness on his face subsides when I ask, “What wedding? You have to ask someone to marry you before you can wed them.”
My thighs quake when he growls, “No, I don’t. You are carrying my child in your womb and my heart in your chest; your fate has already been decided,Ahren.”
His entitled sneer has my pulse quickening, but it doesn’t stop me from saying, “Like hell it has.”
My kidnap may have had us jumping the gun with the move-in part of our relationship, but just like our baby, retirement funds, marriage, and additional children will be discussed at great length before any of them will occur. I am Nikolai’s as much as he is mine, but I’m not being told I’m marrying someone. I want to be asked.
My anger loses some of its steam when Nikolai growls, “I was born a bastard, Justine; I will not have my child born the same way.”
“Then you should have thought about that before voicing your wish to have an heir.” My voice isn’t as volatile as his, but it reveals I’m not a pushover either. “If you want to marry me, you’ll have to ask the old-fashioned way.”
When Nikolai attempts to interrupt me, I push my finger to his lips. I bet he wishes I wasn’t so strong and independent now. “Bended knee, permission from my father, and doves flying in the sky—hell, I’ll even take a flash mob if that’s all you can think up—but I want . . .” I stop, realizing my error. “Ideservemore than a demand to become your wife.”
My last comment steals Nikolai’s words right from his lungs. For the first time ever, he’s speechless. It’s probably for the best, because the last thing I want to hear is his thoughts when I grumble, “And even after all that, I may not say yes.”
I’m such a liar. If hormones, a lack of sleep, and a shit ton of emotions weren’t fueling my responses, I would have suggested we wed at the little white chapel Blaire and Rico were married in four years ago the instant we touch down in Vegas, but if today has taught me anything, it is that we should never take life for granted.
Maddox’s freedom was snatched away in an instant. Friends he had since childhood forgot about him the moment his police record included the word “murder.” His much sought-after scholarship was given to another. Even the girl he thought he loved vanished from the picture.
My family has sacrificed so many moments of happiness the past five years, I’m not willing to ransom any more. Our child will be a blessing, and so will the marriage of his parents, but not until I am asked the right way.
12
I stop watchingJustine’s brisk exit from the makeshift office I set up in her parents’ home when Roman says, “She’s right, Nikolai. There hasn’t been a single incident in four days. Perhaps Dimitri’s intel was off.”
Usually, I’d agree with him—men in this industry could never be accused of being slow off the mark—but with my gut advising me to remain cautious, I must. Just because no incidents have been recorded, doesn’t mean there won’t be.
“Dinner with my brother is not imperative enough to put Justine’s safety at risk.”
“Yes, it is,” Roman disagrees. “It will show her she’s not a pawn in the game you’re playing. She’s your queen, Nikolai, so start treating her like it.”
“She is my queen!” My fist thumps my chest as wildly as my heart whacks my ribcage. “I’d give my life for her, so how can I be accused of treating her as anything less than my other half?”
Although I’m asking a question, I pray for Roman not to answer me. My mood is fragile, so any reply he gives will only make matters worse.
Justine and I have interacted the past four days, but the intensity hasn’t been close to the level as when we were in Vegas. She is my drug of choice, so being denied her attention for even a minute is the equivalent of a death sentence to me. I’m struggling, my temper as volatile as the unsolid ground I’m walking on.
