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I give a shake of my head. “No.”

He rubs the back of his neck looking hurt. “So, I take it you won’t tell me your address either?”

My stomach drops instantly. Panic flares hot in my chest as I remember I’m currently staying at his uncle’s penthouse.

“Why?” I ask, voice sharper than I intended.

“So I can send you gifts,” he says, smiling like that’s the most normal thing in the world. “Flowers, whatever you like. I want to start proving I’m serious.”

I shake my head firmly. “I don’t need your gifts, Luke. And I’m definitely not getting back together with you.”

He just smiles. “That’s fine. You can be pissed at me. I deserve it. But I’m not giving up until I get you back.”

Before I can respond, he turns and walks away, disappearing through the entrance of the hall.

I stare at his retreating back, heart still racing.

What would Andrei do if he found out that the man we both spent that night in the bar cussing out, the cheating ex who slept with my stepsister, is actually his own nephew?

No. There’s no reason for Andrei to know.

And I’m not telling him anything.

Chapter Twelve

Rosie

When we finally get back to Andrei’s mansion, Anya is out like a light, her small body limp and heavy in my arms. The moment we step inside, I notice the change immediately. Several men are moving quietly through the house, some carrying tools, others rolling up rugs and installing soft corner guards on furniture.

The housekeeper, Daria, appears from the hallway and greets us with a warm smile.

“Welcome back,” she says softly, careful not to wake Anya. “How was the wedding?”

“Beautiful,” I murmur, then glance around again. “What’s going on here?”

She clasps her hands in front of her. “Mr. Popov ordered the house to be baby-proofed. Everything sharp or dangerous is being taken care of because of little Anya.”

I blink, stunned. Andrei, the feared Bratva devil, is baby-proofing his mansion for my daughter? The thought tugs at something deep in my chest that I really don’t want to feel.

I carry Anya upstairs to the bedroom we slept in last night. The second I push the door open, I stop dead in my tracks.

The room looks completely different.

The walls are now a soft, delicate pink. The large adult bed that was here this morning has been replaced by a beautiful white toddler bed with a canopy and fairy lights strung above it. There are stuffed animals arranged neatly on shelves, a small reading nook with colorful cushions, and safety plugs already installed in every outlet. The entire space has been transformed into the perfect little girl’s room.

I stand there, frozen, staring around in disbelief. Andrei had the room redesigned. He’s baby-proofing the entire house. This shouldn’t tug at my heart the way it does.

I gently lay Anya down, carefully remove her flower girl dress, and change her into soft pajamas. Once she’s tucked in under the new blankets, I brush a strand of hair from her forehead and press a kiss there.

When I step out of the room and quietly close the door, Daria is waiting in the hallway.

“Would you like something to eat, Miss Rosie?” she asks kindly.

“No, thank you. I’m okay.”

I hesitate, then ask, “The room…”

“Oh yes,” she replies with a fond smile. “Mr. Popov had it redesigned. He said it needed to look like a proper little girl’s room. You should have seen him this morning, sitting at his laptop, searching for the best room designs for a three-year-old. He was very particular about every detail.”