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Bending over to pick something up? He’s rushing to do it for me.
Hungry? Dinner is already made.
I’m honestly a little surprised he didn’t spring out of bed and open the door for me, but he ran off to the bathroom when I woke him up. Pissing like a racehorse every morning because he insists that we both need to be properly hydrated before bed.
I close my eyes, enjoying the cold before it begins to get uncomfortable. It’s so nice just to be still in the morning, not to have to rush to the office or scarf down a breakfast without even tasting it. I get to move slower, more intentionally, and my life is better because of that.
Dr. Klara was right. I haven’t just gotten used to the Bratva. I’ve actually started to love this lifestyle.
The door behind me opens, and I feel Avraam’s arms wrap around me from behind. His warm fingers snake under my blanket, brushing my nipples and making them firm. I lean back into him, humming joyfully as I inhale his thick, spicy scent.
“You sleep good?” he asks, his voice deep and husky from sleep.
“Yes, actually. Better than I usually do.”
“Good, maybe you want to get some breakfast at that place downtown,” he suggests.
“The one with the pancakes? Fuck, I was just about to suggest that. I don’t know why I’m so hungry all the time.”
He laughs, his hands moving down to my belly. “I do.”
Suddenly, he lets go of me, taking a step back as I turn around to search for his warm embrace again. I’m confused at first, but when he drops to his knee and brings a hand out from behind his back, I understand what’s happening.
“Kimberly,” he says, his voice low and confident. He flicks open a red box, a pink sapphire ring glittering in the morning light. “Will you marry me?”
My heart leaps into my throat, and tears rush to my eyes. I can’t believe this is happening. I knew Avraam wanted to marry me, but I had always been so reluctant and dismissive of his wishes because I was afraid.
I’m not afraid anymore. I see the look in his eyes and the ring in his hand. He’s serious about providing the perfect life for me and our baby, and he’s gone above and beyond in proving that.
I swallow hard, searching for a more beautiful way of accepting his proposal but arriving on the simplest and most important word in the end. “Yes,” I gush, my body trembling as he rises from his knee. “Yes, Avraam! Yes, a million times over!”
His eyes light up at my words, and he stands up, taking the ring out of the box and slipping it onto my finger. It’s a perfect fit, but I excepted nothing less from Avraam. If there’s one thing I know about him, it’s the he plans everything out, every detail, every word, every action, making it seems as natural and flawless as possible before he’s willing to act.
He’s a perfectionist, and it’s moments like this that make me appreciate that side of him.
I jump into his arms the moment the ring is on my finger, letting out a squeal of delight and peppering his cheek with kisses. His usual stubble has transformed into a beard in a week flat, and it tickles my skin instead of scratching it.
I run my fingers through the thick black hairs, watching my new ring disappear and reappear in his hair. “You’re really like bigfoot now,” I say with a laugh.
“Well, you know what they say about big feet,” he says, pulling his head back and winking at me.
“I know, I know… How do you think I got so pregnant?” I place my hand on my belly. “Big baby, too.”
He drops to one knee again, ignoring the cold hard ground and kissing my belly softly. “You are so perfect. Both of you are.”
I’m thinking the same about him as I bask in his praise. He gives it to me daily, but it’s so good that I’ll never get enough. I’ll have to think of some way to repay him, but for now, I think I’m just going to close my eyes and enjoy being his fiancée.
29
Avraam
Iwring my hands like I’m trying to squeeze the rest of the sweat out of them. My lap is already soaked from sitting in the waiting room for four hours, but I’ve been told it could be a lot longer.
Four hours. Could be eight. Could be four and thirty seconds. I just don’t know, and it’s eating up my insides like sulfuric acid.
Damien is as cool as the linoleum floor, but he doesn’t have a wife that’s about to give birth to the next ruler of the Russian mafia. This is a big deal. A super big deal, and I’m about to lose my mind from the anticipation.
We already know the baby will be a boy, but for some reason, I have trouble believing that or even conceptualizing it until I see the baby with my own eyes. I’m so used to seeing Kimberly’s pregnant belly, but what I’m not used to is an actual baby.
