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“We’ll plan it quickly,” Zenya says, glancing at Dad. “I’ll start calling venues tomorrow and see what dates are available.”
“There’s no need to throw something together so fast that you hate the result,” Troian replies. “Doctor Webster says I have at least six months, maybe more.”
Zenya gives her father a tearful smile. “I want to ask you to walk me down the aisle if you can. Or I’ll walk you. I don’t care as long as you’re with me. And—and we have some more news as well.” She glances at me. “You tell them.”
I smile at my fiancée, envisioning how she’ll look on our wedding day with her bump showing. “Zenya’s pregnant.”
Lana screams again and once more we’re mobbed with hugs and questions.
Troian’s face is slack with shock, and he’s trying to get to his feet. Zenya gets up, hurries over, and embraces her father.
“Don’t get up. You’re happy, aren’t you, Dad?”
“Of course I am. Thank you for sharing your happiness with us all,” Troian says hoarsely, gazing up at her. “It’s given us all some sweetness so that we can swallow the bitterness of my own news. I’ve got so many reasons to stay with you all as long as possible, and the biggest one is meeting my first grandchild.”
“Who’s also your nephew or niece, Dad,” Lana says, giving Zenya a teasing smile.
I flash Lana a dark look, the little troublemaker, but as usual, my girl is serene in the face of taunts. I’d be snorting like an angry bull if Lana were my sibling.
“Whoever they are, they certainly won’t be more mischievous than my sister,” Zenya says, and everyone laughs.
Everyone but Eleanor. Her eyes are huge as she stares at the coffee table.
“Eleanor?” I ask, wondering if the news about Troian dying has upset her more than I would have expected.
Her gaze snaps to mine and she stares at me like she doesn’t know who I am. Then she looks at Zenya, before turning back to me and murmuring, “Congratulations, Kristian. I’m glad that we can console our hearts with your news.”
Finally, she looks at Troian, and her expression is pained. Maybe the fact that she will lose her last link to her sister has reminded her of her grief over Chessa. She still has Chessa’s kids, something she seems to remind herself of as she scoops Nadia into her lap and gives her a hug.
Later that evening after we’ve all eaten dinner together and Lana’s demanded to know every single detail about how we fell in love—and we’ve given eager young ears an abridged version—I follow Zenya upstairs to bed.
“Can I stay the night with the heir to the Belyaev fortune,Pakhanovna?” I murmur as I kiss the nape of her neck on the stairs.
She giggles at the name. “You can. We’ll have to be quiet, though.”
I’m nuzzling her hair when she digs her nails into the back of my hand and calls, “Goodnight, Eleanor, see you soon.”
I glance over my shoulder and see that Eleanor has paused with her handbag over her shoulder on the way to the front door. There’s an expression in her eyes very much like the one her sister Chessa used to give me whenever she saw me close to Zenya.
Get over it, you sour-faced bitch.
I’m marrying her.
I won.
Zenya blushes and hurries onward. I smirk at Chessa’s sister, and maybe it’s petty, but I feel a thrill of victory as Eleanor hardens her mouth and strides toward the front door. Then I follow my pregnant fiancée to her bedroom.
As soon as we’re alone, I groan and tug Zenya’s clothes off, desperate to get my mouth all over her body.
“Shh,” she says, hushing me and laughing at the same time. “We still have to be quiet even though we’re not sneaking around.”
I stop what I’m doing just long enough to jam her desk chair under the door handle, then I get her on the bed with my face between her thighs and go down on her like it’s the very first time. I’ll never stop being addicted to the way she tastes. The soft cries she makes as I hit exactly the right spot. The way she arches her back the more turned on she gets.
I sit up with my cock in my hand, ready to drive myself into her. Her belly is flat and smooth, but I know my baby is in there. Our baby. Our whole future is right here inside her. Totally vulnerable. The thought makes me freeze.
Zenya has her hands pressed against my chest and she’s panting, hanging by a thread as she anticipates me thrusting into her.
“Kristian? Why have you stopped?”
