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Setting the photo down, I move to the window. The grounds of the mansion stretch out before me, lush and green. I try to imagine a child, our child, playing out there. Will they have Avros's dark hair? My green eyes? Will they be fearless and strong like their father, or more cautious like me?
The thought of our baby brings a fresh wave of emotions. I cradle my barely-there bump, marveling at the life growing inside me. "We're going to be okay," I whisper, as much to myself as to thebaby. "Your daddy will be home soon, and your uncle Miron too. We'll be a real family."
Restless energy propels me out of the study and into the kitchen. I've never been much of a baker, but suddenly I'm seized by the urge to bake something. Miron's been in prison for months—surely he'd appreciate some home-baked cookies?
As I rummage through the pantry, looking for ingredients, I can't help but wonder about the man I'm about to meet. Will he approve of me? Of my relationship with Avros? What if he blames me for the trouble Avros is in?
"Stop it," I mutter to myself, measuring flour with more force than necessary. "You're being ridiculous. Miron will love you because Avros loves you. It'll be fine."
But as I mix the cookie dough, my mind continues to race. What if Miron is nothing like I expect? What if he resents me for changing his relationship with Avros? What if?—
The timer on the oven startles me out of my spiraling thoughts. I slide the first batch of cookies in, the warm scent of vanilla and chocolate chips already beginning to fill the air.
As I wait for the cookies to bake, I find myself wandering the halls of the mansion. It still feels surreal sometimes, living in this opulent space. My fingers trace the intricate woodwork, the priceless artwork. Will our child grow up taking all this for granted? Or will Avros and I be able to instill in them the values of hard work and humility?
The thought of raising a child in this world, Avros's world, sends a shiver down my spine. How will we protect them from the dangers that come with the Petrov name? How will we explain Avros's business when they're old enough to understand?
I shake my head, trying to dispel the worry. One step at a time, I remind myself. First, we need to get Avros home. Then we can figure out the rest together.
The smell of something burning snaps me back to reality. "Oh no, the cookies!" I race back to the kitchen, yanking open the oven door to find the first batch has turned into charred lumps.
As I fan away the smoke, coughing, I can't help but laugh at myself. "Well, little one," I say, patting my stomach, "I think we've just proven that your mom shouldn't be left unsupervised in the kitchen right now. Let's hope my cooking skills return when the pregnancy hormones leave me.”
I'm just finishing up a second, more successful batch of cookies when I hear the crunch of tires on gravel outside. My heart leaps into my throat. This is it. Miron is here.
For a moment, I'm frozen in place, a whirlwind of emotions coursing through me. Excitement, nervousness, hope, fear—they all battle for dominance. But then I square my shoulders, drawing on the strength I've found within myself these past weeks.
I'm Sydney Reeves. I'm carrying Avros's child. I've faced down threats and violence and come out stronger. I can handle meeting the brother of my... boyfriend? Partner? My Avros.
With one last deep breath, I smooth down my blouse and make my way to the foyer. As I hear the front door open, I paste on my most welcoming smile.
It's time to meet Miron Petrov.
24
Sydney
The door swings open, and for a moment, I'm stunned. Miron looks so much like Avros it takes my breath away. The same chiseled jawline, the same intense eyes. But where Avros exudes danger and control, Miron's features are softened by a roguish grin that immediately puts me at ease, and his hair is curled and longer, giving him a boyish charm.
"Well, well," he drawls, his accent lighter than Avros's. "You must be the famous Sydney. I've heard so much about you,krasotka."
I blush at the endearment, extending my hand. "It's nice to finally meet you, Miron. Welcome home."
Instead of shaking my hand, Miron pulls me into a warm, brotherly hug. The gesture is so unexpected and comforting that I feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes.
"None of that now," Miron says gently, pulling back to look at me. His eyes are kind, filled with a warmth that reminds me somuch of Avros it makes my heart ache. "We're family, Sydney. And family doesn't stand on ceremony."
His words wash over me, soothing an ache I didn't even know I had. "Thank you," I manage, my voice thick with emotion.
Miron's grin widens. "Now, let me look at you properly. I want to see the woman who's managed to tame my wild brother."
He steps back, giving me an exaggerated once-over that has me giggling despite myself. "Ah, there's that smile my brother can't stop talking about," Miron says, his eyes twinkling. "You know, when Avros first told me about you, I thought he'd gone mad. The great Avros Petrov, brought to his knees by a woman? Unthinkable."
My cheeks burn hotter at his words. "I'm sure you're exaggerating," I mumble, uncomfortable with the praise.
Miron's expression turns serious. "I assure you, I'm not. Sydney, I've known my brother all my life, and I've never seen him like this. He's... different with you. Softer, somehow. But stronger too. Maybe because he has something worth fighting for. You've changed him, Sydney."
His words send a warmth blooming in my chest. I think of Avros, of the tenderness in his eyes when he looks at me, the gentleness of his touch on my growing belly. "He's changed me too," I admit softly.
