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“You have a part of me in you that no one has ever had,” he said firmly. “And everything that is mine is yours now, malysh.”
I took my hand to his left chest. “Including this?”
His eyes sparkled beautifully like a blue diamond placed under the sun. “Is it my life you want?” He stretched his hand to the nightstand, brought out a blade, and fixed it in my hands. “Know this now, you are the only one who has the right to take my life. Only you.” He moved my hands so that the blade was pointing at the part of his chest where his heart was.
I closed my eyes, imagining what would happen if I drove the blade straight into his heart. If I managed to leave his manor before his brothers found out he was dead. I’d go back to my papa and prove to him that I was just as good as the son he always wanted.
And the baby, I could raise it alone and it would never find out its papa died by my own hands. But that was far from what I truly wanted. I’d sworn to kill Andrei Levov, but now I couldn’t think of having anyone other than him by my side. I could not imagine kissing and fucking anyone that wasn’t him.
“It is not your life I want,” I spat out bitterly, letting the blade fall from my hand. “I want your heart and I know it’s something I can never have.”
A half smile formed on Andrei’s lips, he tossed the blade to the floor and pulled me over to sit on top of him. “And what would you do with my heart if you had it?”
“Possibly toss it on the ground”—love it—“stomp on it”—and cherish it—“and throw into the trash.”
“You’re crazy, malysh,” Andrei said, amusement dancing in his eyes. “And I like you even more because of that.”
“But you don’t love me.”
He froze.
I forgot how to breathe.
We stared at each other.
“God, baby.” He gripped my waist, making my clitoris brush on his hard dick. Only a psycho like him could have an erection during a conversation like this, and I was just as much of a psycho as he was because I needed to be satisfied—pulled onto him and ride him till I came. “You think I don’t love you?”
“I know you don’t.”
“That’s bullshit, baby.” I loved the way he called me baby; I think I loved it as much as I loved when he called me malysh. “I would burn the whole fucking world to the ground if you ask it of me, I would lay my life at your feet if need be for it, I want to worship the very ground you walk on. If that isn’t love, then I don’t know what the hell it is.”
“Wait…did you just—”
“I’ll kill every single person who touches you, malysh.” He held his hand over my belly. “Fuck, you don’t know how much I want to give the world to you and our baby.”
A tear rolled down my eyes without warning. I glanced away in shame, these fucking pregnancy hormones. “How about her?” I asked, because no matter what he said to me and how much he tried to prove his feelings, I knew I’d always be a shadow of the woman he didn’t even think me important enough to tell about. “Will you always love her?”
“That woman was your mama.”
My jaw slackened as soon as the words hit me. “What?” I slapped my hand over my mouth, my heart thudding.”
“And I was not in love with her,” he added, lifting half the weight of the shock away from my shoulder. “Your mama and I had been friends for years.” A sad smile formed on his lips. “She looked just like you, white hair, grey eyes, and a sass that spiced her beauty.”
Andrei paused for a minute. “She drew this tattoo on me when I became the leader of the Bratva, and sadly, that was the same day your grandfather gave her away to Dante Paolo and I fucking regret that I didn’t stop her leaving.”
I breathed, deeply, like I’d been submerged in water for hours and only just been pulled out. “What happened?”
“I never heard from her again until the day she died.” There was a fire in Andrei’s eyes, anger that could burn through thick flesh. “I didn’t even know she had a baby.”
“And my name on your chest?”
“After we met the first time and I found out you were Dante’s daughter, I knew you were Isabella’s too.” My mama’s name is Isabella. “I got a tattoo to remember your name because that is what she would have wanted.”
My heart stuttered, crumbling against my chest. I hadn’t met my mama before, but this explains everything. The picture on his wall, the face staring back at me in my dreams…and the screams…the fucking screams. “Do you know how my mama died?”
Andrei shook his head. “No. I didn’t even know she’d died until years later. I’d heard she died giving birth and the child she bore was a stillbirth, but I started to doubt that after I met you.”
I dreaded the possibility of the next question I was about to ask. “Do you think my papa killed her?”
