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I let out a slow breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Relief mixes with guilt.

“I don’t want to come between you and your nephew,” I murmur.

His hand pauses for half a second, then resumes its slow movement.

“You’re not,” he says firmly. “You’re my wife. Luke knows better than to disrespect you.”

His voice turns colder. “You are a reflection of me. Any form of disrespect toward you is disrespect toward me.”

The words settle deep in my chest. I exhale softly, tension easing from my shoulders.

He brushes his hand once more down my back.

“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs. “Don’t worry yourself about Luke.”

We lie there in silence, neither of us speaking. Soon, my breathing slows, and I drift back to sleep.

I wake up to the rich, comforting smell of coffee.

Blinking slowly, I open my eyes and see Andrei standing beside the bed, carefully placing a tray on my bedside table. The tray is loaded with food, fresh fruit, toast, eggs, and two steaming mugs.

I can’t help but smile as I push myself up against the pillows.

“Good morning baby,” he says, his voice warm and low. He leans down and kisses me softly. He tastes like coffee.

He brushes a few strands of hair away from my face with his fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I reply, still smiling a little. “I’m okay.”

“Breakfast?” he asks, nodding toward the tray.

I look at all the food and raise my brows. “In bed?”

“Yeah,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Thought we could have breakfast together before Anya wakes up.”

I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face. This man is making it really hard for me not to like him.

“Let me just use the bathroom first. Give me a minute.”

I climb out of bed and head to the bathroom. I relieve myself, then brush my teeth quickly, splashing some water on my face before heading back to the bedroom.

Andrei is already sitting on the bed when I return. I climb back in and he adjusts the tray between us.

“Did you make this?” I ask, picking up a fork.

He shakes his head. “No, I had Daria make it. I can’t cook… well, I can make a mean omelette, but that’s about all I can manage.”

I laugh softly as I take a bite of the fluffy eggs. “It’s the thought that counts. Thank you.”

We eat in comfortable silence for a moment before he speaks again. “I was thinking we could go swimming later.”

I freeze mid-bite, fear instantly gripping my chest. The thought of getting into any body of water sends panic surging through me. My throat tightens and my fork hovers in the air.

He notices immediately. “You okay?”

“I… I don’t know how to swim.”

“Oh, okay,” he says easily. “I can teach you.”