Page 96 of Baby for the Bratva King

“Not separately perhaps, but if we come together, if we tune out the world and focus on what matters most…” I let that thought weigh heavy between us for a moment before leaving.

“Felix!” cries Saskia.

“Stay here. Your father needs to see what real danger looks like.”

I throw on a suit jacket over my shirt and head out into the parking garage, jumping into my Porsche 718 Cayman. The car engine grumbles, roaring through the garage.

I drive out and head straight for the Financial District where Vesper owns a few office spaces. The building is very mediocre, twenty stories high, a bit of an eyesore to look at—quite like the man himself.

The interview has just finished. He’ll be sitting in his office all smitten with himself, giving himself a pat on the back. I’ll show him smitten when I punch him straight in the face, lying fuck.

I roll through a set of red lights, heading south. I arrive at the Macy’s around the corner and roll down the window, slapping a load of cash in the valet driver’s hand.

“I want this back outside in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” says the man. His face is rigid.

Guess he saw the news.

I step out of the vehicle, typing the exact address into maps on my phone. Soon enough, I’m staring directly at the building, waiting for a break in the traffic so I can cross the road.

“Mr. Pozharsky,” calls someone, running up to me.

I sigh, my head instinctively shooting to the floor. You compartmentalize, or you ignore.

Demons disappear when you tune everything out. And then Saskia walked into my life, and I became invested in the world and what it had to offer.

I started putting my head up, taking note of my surroundings. I protect a woman who could be using me to seek revenge, but I love her all the same.

I love her even if she’s a user. Love is unconditional, and it destroys everything.

But the fire burning in my heart will destroy me if I fail Saskia. We’re intertwined.

I tear my head from the ground, confronting the journalist. Her face paints a very vivid picture. The woman looks terrified. As do the rest of the crew holding the cameras and microphones.

I’ve never been good at hiding my anger. It tends to shoot right out.

And I haven’t experienced anger for quite some time, not since my father was fucking up his own success and acting irrationally…

Which is what I’m about to do now.

“We hear you got Vesper Brouwer’s eldest daughter pregnant.”

I look around the street, noticing fairy lights strung across the wall. The pumpkins are gone, replaced by sparkling lights to get people in the festive mood. Christmas will soon be here, and then Easter, and then Halloween. And to fill the boring gaps in the calendar, they turn to celebrity gossip—like a man falling in love with a woman and getting her pregnant deserves to be on national news.

I never wanted this, but this is the price you pay when you try too hard to protect yourself.

“Yes, everything is true.”

Gasps fill the street.

“And is it true about the organized crime?”

“Have you ever loved someone so much that you’re willing to kill for them?”

“Uh,” says the journalist, blinking repeatedly. Typical fucking response as soon as I go off script. “How exactly did you and Saskia meet?”

I feel a smirk tug on my lips. If Vesper wants fire, then it’s a fire he shall get, because I will not stop until the world knows the truth.