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Another day that Petyr Ivanov still draws undeserved breath.
The sun is low in the sky, golden rays casting the garden in comfortable light. I follow the sound of laughter around the house to the pool deck.
There, I see Nikita and Ilya splashing around in the water—but I’m preoccupied by the long pair of legs sunning poolside.
Ignoring my better judgment, I keep walking until I spy the rest of Paige stretched out in a lounge chair. She’s bathed in warm light, her eyes closed, wearing a knitted string bikini that reveals tan bits of skin between the weave. The cups of her top can barely contain her growing breasts.
What really steals my attention, though, is the swell of her stomach. It’s still a small bump, but this is the first time she’s looked undeniably pregnant.
Seeing her that way, breathtakingly beautiful, swollen with my children inside her… It unearths this primal possessiveness inside me. I want to scoop her in my arms and carry her to our room. I want to mark her as mine.
I want to destroy her like she’s destroyed me.
In the best way possible.
“Hello there,” Nikita greets, alerting everyone to my presence. “If you’re done ogling Paige, why don’t you come and join us?”
I throw her a dirty look, but she just gives me a smile and a wink. I don’t risk a second glance at Paige. We’ve barely said two words to each other since the day I told her that she was responsible for Clara’s death. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t blame her if she slipped a knife between my ribs, either.
“No. I’ve got work to do.”
“Aw, c’mon, Uncle Misha!” Ilya whines. “Stay! Just for a little while?”
The kid turns the full force of his dark brown eyes on me.Why the fuck does he have to look so much like his father?
In the face of that, I don’t stand a chance.
I sigh. “Okay. Fine. For a bit.”
I go up to my room just long enough to change into a pair of swimming trunks. When I get back down, Nikita has claimed a chair next to Paige. I can feel their eyes on me as I dive into the pool.
The second I surface, a volleyball bounces off my shoulder.
“One point for me!” Ilya cheers.
I give him my best game face. “And it’s your last point, you little punk.”
We start batting the ball back and forth, cackling every time the other fumbles it. After a few minutes, I’m not just going through the motions—I’m actually playing the game.
And I’m enjoying it.
I almost forget that Paige is sitting a few feet away in a string bikini. Almost.
Ilya launches the ball at me again, but I’m distracted by my wife and I miss it. It bounces out of the pool, onto the deck, and rolls down the grassy hill.
“Yes!” Ilya crows, punching his fist in the air. “I did it. I beat you!”
“Calm down, you little beast. The game’s not over yet. Go get the ball.”
He jumps out of the pool, dripping wet and heads off in search of the ball.
“Oh, let him win once, won’t you?” Niki calls from the sidelines. “It’ll do wonders for his self-esteem.”
“If he wins, he will earn it.” I try not to let my gaze linger too long on Paige in my peripheral vision. She’s got a book over her chest, but I’d bet my little finger she’s not actually reading. She seems overly interested in our exchange.
“Maksim let you win a thousand times over before you ever even sniffed deserving it.”
I freeze. Like Niki unclogged a drain, my head is suddenly full of memories I never asked for.
