Page 119 of Bratva Baby

Zhenya snorts. “She’s asleep. Even you can’t argue with that.”

Anton bends and kisses our daughter too. “Call if she wakes.”

“I’ll call if the building catches fire,” Zhenya says. “Everything else can wait.”

Anton looks ready to argue, so I take his hand and pull him away before he turns fatherhood into an operations briefing.

The private suite upstairs is locked, guarded, and finally ours.

The moment the door closes, I lean back against it and let out the breath I’ve been holding since morning. Anton stands in front of me, jacket open, eyes on the handloom around my shoulders.

“He would’ve liked seeing you wear that,” he says.

“My father?”

“Yes.”

I touch the woven edge. “He would’ve pretended to inspect the quality.”

“He would’ve hated me.”

“For a while.”

Anton steps closer. “And then?”

“Then he would’ve realized you’re useful.”

His laugh is quiet and warm enough to make my chest ache. “High praise.”

“For my family, yes.”

His hands go to the handloom first, not the dress. He lifts it carefully from my shoulders and lays it across the chair near the bed, treating it like something that belongs to both history and me. That gets under my skin more than any speech could have.

When he turns back, his eyes have changed.

“You took my name today,” he says.

“I did.”

“You signed the route agreement.”

“I did.”

“You threatened a broker during dessert.”

“He earned it.”

Anton reaches me, slides one hand around my waist, and pulls me off the door. “My wife had a busy day.”

“She’s tired.”

His mouth brushes mine. “Then I’ll do the work.”

I tilt my head back as his fingers find the first button at the back of my dress. “Careful, husband. There are a lot of buttons.”

His smile turns dark. “Good,” he murmurs, opening the first one. “I’ve waited all day to get my hands on every single one.”

He drags that first button through its loop with infuriating care, fingertips grazing the nape of my neck, brushing the soft hairs there until goosebumps race down my spine. I brace my hands against his chest, feeling the steady heartbeat under crisp white shirt and the hot intent simmering beneath.