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He grins. “Absolute—”
At this exact moment we hear Simon stirring upstairs. He breaks out into a loud, piercing cry, determined to let everyone in the house know he’s awake and ready to start the day.
I laugh. “How about you go get him and I’ll get started on breakfast?”
Dimitri dips down to kiss me. “I like that plan even better.”
Chapter 48
Dimitri
It’s a party for the ages.
Not only has my whole family come to celebrate the birth of my daughters, but our closest allies have as well. I can’t remember the last time I saw this many Bratva gathered in one place without the expectation of talking business.
We’ve rented out one of the fanciest restaurants in Moscow, every single table reserved under my name. It’s bright and vibrant, upbeat music playing over the speakers as joyous conversation lifts into the air.
Champagne and vodka are free flowing. The food is scrumptious and divine. The guests come in droves with their gifts and well wishes, everyone trying to get in close to see my little girls with their own eyes.
“Congratulations,” Pyotr says to me as he hands me an envelope. “A little something from their uncle for their college fund.”
“Thank you.”
“What are their names again?” Luka asks me. He’s crouched down in front of their bassinet, which we’ve stationed at the front of the restaurant where we can keep a close eye on them.
Natalya giggles. “This one is Viktoria, the oldest. We named her after my father. That one’s Mila. The one beside her is Sasha. And the one drooling all over Simon is Yulia.”
Luka isn’t too comfortable around kids, but there’s no denying the way his face lights up. “They’re so small.”
Mikhail and Aurora are the next to approach, their own children in tow. My nieces and nephew quickly rush up to see the babies.
Mikhail gives me a classic old handshake. “Congrats, Dima.”
Aurora laughs beside him. “Oh, they’re so precious. I can already tell Dimitri’s going to be a girl dad.”
I furrow my brows. “What the hell is a girl dad?”
“You know. Like, super protective of your daughters. The kind who will put on tiaras and join them for their tea parties.”
“That’s a casual Sunday for me.” I joke lightly. “You’re telling me that’s not normal?”
“Can you tell them apart yet?” Pyotr asks me. He says it in a lighthearted manner, but I’m personally not one to ignore a challenge.
“Obviously. They’re my girls!”
He gestures towards the kids. “Go on, then.”
“Well, Viktoria is the one…”
I scan the faces of my daughters and pause. Natalya has dressed them all in matching outfits, cute pink dresses with frilled collars and little pink bows stuck to their heads of bright blonde hair. They’re identical, not even the tiniest hint to tell them apart.
I chew on the inside of my cheek and venture a guess. “This one?” I whisper to Natalya.
“Not quite, sweetie.”
“This one?”
“Zero for two.”
