"Sometimes." She meets my gaze, her dark eyes honest.
I reach out and squeeze her hand. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." She smiles, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes.
We're quiet for a moment, both of us lost in thoughts about fathers and the complicated relationships we have with them.
We finish shopping and head to lunch at a small restaurant in the mall. The guards take a table nearby, their presence a constant reminder of the danger surrounding me, even if I can't see it. Sophia orders a salad while I go for pasta, my appetite finally returning after weeks of morning sickness.
"So," Sophia says, twirling her fork through lettuce. "Have you thought about names?"
I laugh. "It's too early for that."
"It's never too early! Come on, give me something."
We spend the rest of lunch debating baby names, Sophia suggesting increasingly ridiculous options until I'm laughing so hard my stomach hurts. It feels good, this lightness. Like maybe everything will be okay.
When we return to the estate, shopping bags in hand, I immediately notice the chaos spilling from Andrey's office. The door is open, and I can see maps spread across his desk, ledgers stacked in piles, and several men crowded around the table.
Sophia glances at me, then heads toward the library without a word. I move closer to the office, curiosity pulling me forward.
Andrey looks up as I approach, and despite the tension in the room, his expression softens. He waves me inside, his dark eyes warm.
"How was shopping?" he asks.
"Productive." I set the bags down near the door and move closer to the desk. "What's all this?"
Matvey glances up from the map he's studying, his scarred face unreadable. The other men in the room shift slightly, making space for me.
Andrey's hand finds my waist, pulling me against his side. "We're going after Sophia's father."
I blink, processing his words. "What?"
"The bastard disowned his daughter." Andrey's voice is cold, edged with fury. "He doesn't get to walk away from that without consequences."
I look down at the documents spread across the desk. Property deeds, financial records, and business holdings. Everything connected to Sophia's father is laid out like a battle plan.
"You're taking everything," I say quietly.
"Everything," Andrey confirms. "By the time we're done, there won't be anything left for Sophia to inherit. Not that she'd want it."
Matvey's expression is grim but satisfied. "He made his choice. Now he pays for it."
I should probably feel something about this. Sympathy, maybe, or concern. But all I feel is a fierce satisfaction. Sophia deserves better than a father who would abandon her just because Andrey didn't want to marry her.
"Good," I say firmly.
Andrey's hand tightens on my waist, approval flickering in his dark eyes.
That night, after the men have left and the office is quiet again, Andrey finds me in our bedroom. I'm unpacking the shopping bags, hanging new clothes in the closet.
"Show me," he says, leaning against the doorframe.
I turn to face him, raising an eyebrow. "Show you what?"
"What you bought." His gaze drops to the bags, then back to my face. "Model for me."
Heat floods through me at the suggestion. "You want a fashion show?"
