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When we step out of the shower this time, he wraps me in a towel. It’s the most taken care of I’ve felt in a long time. His hands effortlessly tuck the edges in, then bracket either side of my waist.

Before we leave, he checks the dressing and replaces its damp edge. I wait beside him until he’s finished.

“Come with me,” he murmurs.

There it is again, that shift between us. It was there before, teasingly, but now I recognize it for what it is: all my walls have come down.

I lean into him, and Vasily bends to lift me into his arms as if it’s nothing. He shoulders his way out of the locker room and through the double doors of the gym. Even at the stairs he holds me solidly against him, the power of his abs and thighs visceral as we move upwards.

I want to ask where we’re going, but I already know. Exhaustion is setting in, and it’s all I can do to keep my eyes open. I want to tell him this is a bad idea, but I’m too far gone.

This thing I’ve been sensing between us is more about what I’m not sensing.

The walls I built. The ones that I’ve always had, but they were my last line of defense against the Bratva king.

They’re gone. And I feel safe in his arms.

Which only leads to one thought as Vasily reaches his rooms and carries me inside, shutting the door definitively with his heel:

If I’m in this deep, telling him about the pregnancy feels even harder.

I want to believe he would open the door if I asked. But until he does, I won’t know whether he wants me to stay or simply means to keep me. A baby could make that difference disappear in his mind.

I need him to choose me before he knows. And I need the choice to be mine too.

Chapter 36

Vasily

The machinery has been shut down, but the construction site is still loud. Men shout over one another as they move equipment out of the way, boots crunching over gravel, someone barking orders into a radio. The sharp smell of diesel and sawdust hangs in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of blood.

I hate it.

Not the chaos. I’m accustomed to chaos.

I hate knowing one of my men is hurt. And that it was likely avoidable.

He lies near the unfinished foundation with a paramedic crouched beside him, his leg pinned beneath a section of framing that gave way without warning. The injury could have been worse. The medic keeps saying that, as though it makes the sight of him any easier to stomach.

It doesn’t. In fact, another worker is only feet away, throwing up into a dumpster.

I hired that man; I put him here. These men work for me because they trust me to keep them safe, and today the site ended up being anything but safe. Deep down, I know it’s because I haven’t been as on top of things as I should be.

Responsibility is a word people use when they want to make leadership sound respectable, but this is what it actually means.

I glance at my phone again. Nothing. The last day of the trial’s second week is already underway and has been for two hours and forty-five minutes now. Matty is in that courtroom without me.

I should be there.

I know she can handle herself better than almost anyone I know. She doesn’t need me sitting in the gallery pretending I understand every legal maneuver while she tears apart the prosecution’s case.

But I want to be there. I want to see her. I want to know what’s happening. And if her father dares set foot in that building again, I want to be the one to watch the life fade from his eyes as I choke it from his throat.

“Vasily.”

Timur’s voice pulls me back. I turn toward him.

“They need your signature on some documents.”