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“You’ve been disappearing a lot,” she says.

“I’ve been sick.”

Her gaze drops briefly to my stomach before returning to my face. My heart stutters. She knows. Or maybe she suspects.

“I’m fine,” I assure her.

Anya doesn’t look convinced, but before she can push, someone calls her name from the hallway, and the distraction saves me. I breathe out slowly once she leaves, and my hands tighten on the sheets as I realize that I have to tell my family.

And that terrifies me more than anything. Because even if no one else knows, Anya knows that Dario is exactly what I spent years running from. A man tied to a world that destroyed our mother. And now I’m carrying his child.

What happens when Alexei finds out? He cares for me, I know that. He has never treated me as anything less than family, and now that he and Anya are getting married, there is no question about where I stand with him. But this isn’t only about Alexei. It’s about the Bratva. About alliances and old rivalries.

And what happens when two powerful families discover that one of their daughters has fallen in love with the enemy? I know I have to make a quick decision because Dario is aware of my identity and the pregnancy. He must have found the pregnancy test.

I had turned my phone back on after reaching New York, and the screen immediately filled with missed calls and messages.

All from Dario. So many that my heart had actually hurt at the sight of his name. I listened to the voicemail last. His voice had been low and furious, but underneath the anger was something I recognized immediately. Fear.

“You have one week, Katya. One week to come back to LA. After that, I’m coming to get you myself. Balshovs be damned.”

I should be horrified. Instead, my stomach twists with longing. Because I miss him. God, I miss him.

I miss waking up beside him, his huge body curled protectively around mine. I miss his scent on my clothes. I miss the way his eyes follow me across a room, dark and possessive, as though there isn’t another woman alive he would rather look at.

I miss the roughness in his voice when he says my name or calls me his treasure. And the softness that appears only when he thinks I’m not paying attention. I miss my dangerous man. A shaky breath leaves me as I press my hand against my stomach again.

Part of me wants him to come after me. That part is stronger than I want to admit. I want him to walk through that door, look at me with those impossible dark eyes, pull me into his arms, and tell me that everything will be okay.

But another part of me is terrified of what will happen when the Moretti don finally comes face-to-face with the Balshov family.

Chapter Seven

Dario

I’m done waiting.

I told Katya she had a week to come home, but that was before I spent several nights in a hotel room across the country from my woman and our baby. I spent those nights watching her from a distance and pretending I was capable of giving her the space she wanted. I’m not.

I knew that after the first night. I knew it even more after the second, when I found myself staring at the screen of my phone at three in the morning like some lovesick bastard. I wondered if she was sleeping, if she was eating, if the morning sickness had gotten worse, if she was scared, and if she missed me the way I fucking missed her.

I’ve never been a patient man. I don’t wait for what I want. I take it. Katya is the first exception I’ve ever made, and apparently, even that lasted only a few days.

I flew to New York the same day she did. I could have gone straight to her, but I knew she needed time. And despite what she probably thinks, I’m capable of understanding that. What I’m not capable of doing is staying away from her indefinitely.

I’ve spent the last few days watching the hotel from a distance, making sure no one approaches her who shouldn’t, while learning more about the Balshovs than I ever wanted to know. Tonight, I finally have an excuse to go to her.

The reception is over. Alexei and Anya are gone for the night, and Katya is alone. My timing is perfect. I take the elevator to her floor and walk down the hallway, ignoring the curious glance from a hotel employee. One look at my face is enough to make him decide he suddenly has somewhere else to be.

Good. I knock on Katya’s door. Nothing. I knock again. Still nothing.

My jaw tightens. “Katya.”

Silence. I pull the duplicate key card from my pocket. I had it made because I’m a man who prefers having options, and tonight I’m fucking grateful for my habit. The lock gives after a few seconds. I step inside and close the door behind me.

The room is quiet, but I can hear water running. My body reacts before my brain does, and I follow the sound into the bathroom. Then I see her. She is sitting in the bathtub with her hair pulled away from her face, her skin damp from the steam, and for one second I forget every angry thought I had on the way here.

Fuck, I’ve missed her.