Page 187 of Bleed with Me

“But I’m hungry.”

Exhaling deeply, I opened the fridge.

“We have a strawberry yogurt.” I took it out. “Okay with you?”

“No,” she grumbled. “But I don’t have a choice.” She snatched a spoon and yogurt from my hands, glancing at me as if I was personally responsible for the melting of icebergs.

“True.” I smiled at her scowl, grabbing Dorian’s phone.

It finally stopped buzzing; instead, a text message came. I unlocked it with his code, grinning under my breath. I noticed it a few days ago when he texted Malin, but I hadn’t used it yet. Not that I wanted to spy on my husband. Not at all. But a woman should know who her man was in contact with, right? Surely, he wouldn’t mind.

Stephanie: The scans of Mr. Johnson arrived. And Mrs. Johnson caused another scene, just like you said. I don’t know what to tell them. Please, call me back, sir.

Sir? She called him sir?

I read the text again just to be sure I understood it correctly when Aryna interrupted me.

“I’m still hungry,” she whined, rubbing her tummy. “You really don’t know how to be a mommy.” Her lips turned downright in a pout. “We need another mommy to show you.”

“And who would that be?” I raised a brow, unable to fight a smile at her expression when a loud ding startled me the second time this morning. Aryna’s eyes widened, and she jumped behind me so fast my brain barely registered it. Her tiny hands clutched my sweater as she stared into the living room.

“It’s just a doorbell,” I exhaled, brushing her hair. “We have a visitor.”

“Who?” she beeped, her gaze darting around as if she expected someone to jump out at her. Her behavior alerted all my instincts, and I made a mental note to ask Dorian about her background.

“Let’s look, okay?” I gently took her hand and led her into the entry hall. Another ding resonated through the whole house just as we reached the door, my head buzzing with the piercing sound.

Hastily, I grabbed the door handle and yanked the door open, my brows shooting up.

“Hello?” I said, glancing at Zyon, who resembled a man attending a state funeral. In his black three-piece suit, with dark eyes scanning me like I was his mortal enemy, he gave me instant creeps. Behind him, Zara bounced on her feet, her curly hair flying around her head and a wide smile almost splitting her face apart, while Valeria, elegant as always in her simple yellow dress, admired the flowers.

“Dorian?” Zyon asked without greeting, walking past me as if it were his house. I was so surprised to see them that I didn’t even stop him from invading my home.

“Sleeping,” I replied, glaring at his broad back, but my scowl evaporated when I saw how warmly Aryna and Zara hugged. Valeria smiled at them, approaching me with an apologetic expression.

“Sorry for the invasion,” she said, clutching her purse. “Zyon said you have some business to attend to and surely don’t have a nanny for the kid. So,” she shrugged, “here we are.”

“The Queen Zhumagulov is a nanny?” I laughed, realizing what had left my mouth only when it was out. Valeria lifted an elegant eyebrow.

“Do you have a better option, Princess Valentino?” she countered, her lips twitching slightly.

“No, not really,” I mumbled, walking into the living room where Dorian stood with his eyes glazed with sleep, messy hair, and a pillow imprinted on his cheek.

“Put some pants on,” Zyon commanded in his usual firm voice, fishing his phone out of his suit pocket. “We need to go.”

“I haven’t had breakfast,” Dorian objected, his frown deepening. “And coffee.”

Zyon lifted his eyes from the screen and flashed him a lethal glare.

“I’ll buy you an entire fucking menu after we deal with the Valentino fuck up!” he snarled. “Now, move your ass.”

“Zyon,” Valeria interjected before I could even open my mouth because his demanding behavior in my house raised my blood pressure. “The girls.”

He glanced at Zara and Aryna, but they were engrossed in something on Zara’s tablet and didn't care about adults.

“All good, mon cœur.” He winked at her, but his attention stayed focused on a task. “Go, Dorian.” He nodded toward the stairs. “We don’t have time for this.”

“For what, actually?” I asked, the irritation seeping from my every pore. “He just woke up. And what gives you the right to just barge in here and boss us around?”