Page 84 of Baby for My Ex’s Dad

My twins, Sergei and Chaucer, will flank me. One remains calm under fire, and the other excels at reading angles in buildings more than he excels at talking to people.

“Okay. Seating.” I put the man’s phone on speaker and set it on my knee, and I start assigning, playing every strength against every gap the way I’d keep the loud donor away from the shy widow. I keep going, the chart filling in. As I explain the plan, there’s a startled bark of a laugh from the back seat, quickly swallowed.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing, miss,” comes the response. “It sounds like a helluva party.”

Not sure if that’s a compliment, but I’m taking it for one. “Now. Topics, to keep the conversation moving.” My voice drops and flattens into something I’ve never heard, and the last of the executive assistant in me folds into whatever I’m becoming.

“Everyone enters armed. I want us to be loud everywhere, taking charge of every room we step into, so that no one on their side gets to finish a sentence. We should dominate the conversation.” I don’t blink. “When the time arrives, anyone carrying a weapon on Sokolov’s payroll is considered an uninvited guest. Kill orders for all armed individuals on the estate. Proceed accordingly.”

Silence fills the car—not as objection, but as recalibration. It’s the sound of two hardened men reevaluating all their assumptions about the pregnant woman in the back seat.

“I like it,” the short-haired one says. “I’d like to attend your normal parties one day.”

“If you think that’s good, you should see me when a caterer cancels day-of.”

He laughs, and I swear, even that has an accent.

I gaze at the road leading to the estate, where the man I love moves inside an obvious trap. I discreetly check the safety on the small gun again, a comfort that shouldn’t be comforting.

“Oh. And one more thing.” I turn back to them. “Which one of you can connect me to the kumicho Maxim’s been working with?”

36

MAXIM

“What the fuck is this, Anya?”

She leans against the pillows without lowering the gun, relaxed and comfortable in her moment. The silk of her nightgown glimmers faintly in the dim light. Her pistol remains steady. Whatever this situation is, she can shoot, and she’s not afraid of me. “This is the conversation my father was too much of a chickenshit to let us have.”

“Where is Alexei?”

“We’ll get to my father soon.” She tilts her head, her gaze warm and curious, like someone exploring a painting they feel a connection to. “First, I want you to listen, because you’ve been avoiding me for too long, and I’ve put a lot of effort into making this meeting happen. If you truly wanted this on your own terms, Maxim, you wouldn’t have told security to keep me out of your office. So, you have no right to complain about the venue.”

A man learns more from a talker with a gun than from a corpse, and she wants to talk, so I let her.

“My father’s too old-fashioned, but he’s also incredibly talented and determined. I love him dearly. But I worry he jeopardizes everything he’s worked for because he struggles to see a future that’s any different from the past. Do you want to know what he envisioned for me?” Her mouth curls.

“What?”

“Marry me to Klaus.” She laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “Marry me to your foolish son like a broodmare to a stallion, uniting the houses through my womb. While men continue to rule, I’m to bear the next generation of men to rule. A doomed princess in a tower, handed over like property.”

“How… insulting.”

She nods once. “That’s not the path I see for myself, Maxim. I believe I won’t be just a prize in someone else’s plans. My purpose is to lead the Sokolov empire on my own terms, and to select the man who will stand by my side as I do it.”

“And you have chosen?”

She nods again.

“Congratulations.” I keep my voice flat. “Is this my wedding invitation? I’m flattered you would ask me personally. Where is your father, Anya?”

She smiles, and it is a happy smile, truly happy, which is the most frightening thing her face has done yet. “He’s currently tied up in the basement—alive, for the moment, gagged, furious, and feeling just as helpless as he’s made me feel throughout my life.” The smile widens, showing too many perfect teeth. “Right next to Lev’s body. Consider it a wedding present, my love.”

Well, fuck. That answers that question.

Her voice goes soft, pleased with itself. “I laid them side by side for you, the man who wronged Lev and what is left of Lev, so that you can take your revenge with your own hands, and I watch you do it. Is that not romantic? I thought it was romantic. Revenge is better than a dozen roses, don’t you think?”