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I quickly locked out the attacker and shut everything down, making sure everything was secure before starting work again. Just another annoyance and nothing I took too seriously, writing it off as a curious hacker poking around and not meaning anything nefarious. I used to do that sort of thing all the time when I was a kid to test my skills as well as to see how many boundaries I could cross without getting in trouble.
No sooner had I settled back down with my security all tightened up than I got word that two of our bars on the edge of the Gianni territory had been attacked simultaneously. One of our bartenders, an old guy who had worked for my father for years and came to New York solely to help me out, was gravely injured in the raids. The places were torn up, windows smashed, the vintage wooden bar in one of the places hacked to pieces, and dozens of bottles of alcohol broken.
That was more than an annoyance; it was personal. Nobody hurt my people without getting hurt worse in return. I called over two top security guys, eager to go out and crack some heads. As pissed off as I was about the attack, they wanted to gather some intel first. We needed definitive proof it had been the Giannis. It had been a long time since I’d smashed some skulls, and I was surprised at how eager I was to get my hands dirty again, but they didn’t want to start another turf war when the one we had was more than enough.
I got Evelina on the phone since it was technically her call, and she agreed I should stay put while she got to work on surveillance.
“You know it’s the Giannis,” I said, pissed off that she was being a mother hen.
“Sure,” she said calmly. “But they’re most likely trying to get you to rush headlong into a trap.” Then she pulled out what had happened last year when she was in hiding with a price on her head. I’d been tricked into thinking she was in danger and ended up nearly dead. “Don’t worry,” she said when I had no more arguments. “Remember that revenge is a dish best-served cold, and every minute we don’t immediately retaliate is a minute they’re squirming, waiting for it.”
“You’re right,” I said, calming down.
I was going to be a father soon enough and couldn’t needlessly put myself in danger. I reluctantly agreed to take the levelheaded approach and not storm after our enemies. Yet. I still thought it might be a good idea to have a presence in the Gianni territory and ordered my hesitant men to put a tail on any of them they could find. All of this happened in very loud Russian while they waved their guns around like the brutes they were proud to be.
And right in front of my terrified housekeeper. When I saw her huddling in the hall closet, ready to call the cops since she must have thought I was about to be executed in my own home, I almost laughed at how adorable she looked. Clearly scared to death but not about to run for the hills, either. That was loyalty she didn’t need to give me, and I appreciated it.
I tried to tell her she wasn’t in any danger, playing it off like it had something to do with my fledgling software business. I usually did everything related to the Bratva at one of our bars, keeping my home location as secret as possible, but this had been an emergency.
My poor Sunshine looked more like a storm ready to break, and I was afraid she might faint, always forgetting how regular people didn’t take well to big guys with guns. Before I could help her to the kitchen to get her some tea, she leaned over and got sick all over the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, gripping her knees.
“Jesus, don’t be sorry.” I took her by the arm and helped her stand upright. “Are you going to be okay?”
She nodded, her eyes watery as she grimaced and pressed on her stomach. “Yes. Please don’t worry about me. I’ll get this cleaned up right away and then get to work.”
She tugged her arm out of my grasp and dragged herself slowly toward the kitchen. Her shoulders rounded forward, and she was extra pale and visibly shaking. I jumped in front of her and studied her face as she tried to give me a reassuring smile.
“I’m really fine now,” she said, struggling to swallow. I stepped back in case she let loose again and shook my head.
“I don’t think you are,” I countered. “Why don’t you go home for the day?” The encounter had clearly shaken her up, and since I didn’t know what might happen, it was better to be safe than sorry.
She shook her head and edged around me, determined to get to her cleaning supplies. I had to forcefully place my hands on her shoulders and aim her back toward the front door. “I’ll still pay you, but you really don’t look well, Sunshine,” Burya whined from behind the bedroom door where I’d locked him while I had the conference with my security guys, and I waved in that direction. “The dog agrees with me.”
She slumped miserably. “Okay, as soon as I clean up my mess.”
“It’s no worse than anything Burya’s done around here,” I said, moving her closer to the door. “I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself. Are you well enough to take the bus? I can give you a ride. Burya wouldn’t mind a little field trip, I’m sure.”
This offer seemed to mortify her, and she picked up her pace, finally realizing I was dead serious about not letting her do any work in her condition. I asked if she needed a barf bag, and she laughed before groaning and holding her stomach again.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” she promised. “It must have been some bad lox on my bagel this morning.”
She apologized again as I watched her get on the elevator, offering me a semblance of her sunny smile as the doors slid shut.
“Only if you’re up to it,” I called.
Turning back into the apartment, I wiped up the hall, counting it as fatherhood practice while feeling awful for what she’d seen. I made a mental note to tell Gregory to give her a little bonus for mental suffering and reminded myself to ask what her name was while I was at it.
I forgot about both things the moment I sat down at my desk to double-check all my files. After the attacks happened so close to the hacking incident that morning, I wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t just teenage troublemakers who’d gotten into my system. While I waited for everything to boot up, I got a call from the surrogacy agency.
“Mr. Morozov, I’m so thrilled to tell you that your surrogate had a positive pregnancy test just this morning.”
It was the first good news of the day, and I pushed back in my wheeled office chair, whooping with delight. Everything else faded into the background, overwhelming me with excitement and terror combined. I was going to be a father for real.
Did I make the right decision? On the heels of the bar attacks, it was easy to be apprehensive. But I’d grown up in this life, and I would make damn sure no harm ever came to my little one, just like my father did for Evelina and me. The joy I felt let me know I was on the right track, and I couldn’t wait to start raising my child.
As if she knew there was good news to share, my sister called me just seconds after I hung up with the agency. I was ready to blurt it all out, but she cut me off, telling me she’d been able to check our surveillance systems and had identified that it was the Giannis who’d taken out our two bars.
