For that second, I forget about our beef and lean into my husband, who recognizes I need him right now despite me trying to push him away a few minutes ago.
“I’ll get Aleksandr started. Then I’ll take a shower, talk to Madden, and eat.”
Aleksandr’s curious eyes meet mine.
“An hour nap,” Nico pushes.
“I’m not sleepy.”
“I can put you to sleep.”
Turning in his arms, I glare up at him. We’re wearing matching bouffant caps. “You get none of this.”
He grips my chin. “Rest Serenity. We both know you’re carrying my second child.”
“Second child?” Aleksandr splutters.
A smile curls my lips at the surprise in his tone.
I step closer to Aleksandr. “Let’s get you set up.”
“How didn’t we know about this child?” he asks, his Russian accent heavy.
“My husband let me raise our son in Italy. So he’d be safe.” I press a button on the chair.
“Now get ready for your special massage. I’ll start you out nice and slow.”
He stares at me, not knowing what to expect. Miff drags Ettore’s limp body through the warehouse on a sheet of plastic to keep the blood from leaking all over the floor.
I clap my hands. “Oh goody. Your partner is here.”
Miff grabs Ettore’s arms, Kicks picks up his feet, and they place him in the second chair.
My smile widens. “Look at you. You’re all dirty.”
My eyes roam his frame. The expensive dark suit jacket is rumpled. The knees of his slacks have holes and are bloody. The once crisp white dress shirt is partially tucked in and stained crimson.
“Ah, what the fuck?” Aleksandr yells.
My surprise got him. Tiny needles had jammed into his hamstrings.
I peek at him, taking delight in his shocked expression. He tries to get out of the chair, but of course that’s impossible. Thick leather straps secure his wrists and ankles to the leather chair.
Nico slams his fist into his nose. Aleksandr’s head jerks back.
“Enjoy being stabbed every minute or five. Depends on the setting Serenity put it on.”
I laugh and turn back to Ettore. “The handsome, confident-looking man has gone bye - bye.”
Blood trickled down the side of his mouth.
“Shit, I think he’s bleeding internally,” I gripe.
“Wife, that’s what happens when you beat an asshole’s stomach in.”
“Fuck,” I growl.
“Kinsley’s home with a newborn, but don’t worry. I’ll call Nadine.”
