29. April

29

APRIL

Like everything else in the Matvey Groza Bat Cave, the bathtub is big . Like, ridiculously big. Bigger than would make sense for the laws of physics.

"Someone's having fun," Matvey comments dryly, watching me starfish in the tub-slash-indoor pool.

"Mhmm," I hum in agreement. "It's your fault, really. If you didn't want me to have fun, you shouldn't have put a spa in your penthouse."

Rough lips graze the back of my neck. "Who says it wasn't meant for fun?"

"Hand me another?" I try with my best puppy eyes.

Matvey gives me an impressed once-over. "Someone's forgotten her manners."

"Hand me another, pretty please?"

With an amused huff, Matvey presses a cheese cube to my mouth.

As I chew, a moan escapes me. "This is better than sex."

"Careful, kalina. I just might let you starve."

A shiver runs down my spine. Whenever Matvey growls his threats into my ear, I always want to push those boundaries. See how far he's willing to take it.

I shake my head and force myself to focus on the food. If I keep thinking like this, it won't be long before yet another part of me starts calling the shots. Again. "You'd never. I'm carrying our child here."

"Which is the only reason I'm entertaining this." His big palm comes to rest over my belly, rubbing circles into the taut skin under the hot water. "So don't get used to it."

Too late. "Yes, sir."

A few minutes go by in silence. It's strange how quickly that's changed: before, Matvey's silence was tense, charged. Now, the atmosphere between us has grown mellower, as relaxed as it could be. If it does get charged again, it's for an entirely different reason.

I let my head loll to the side, nestled against the firmness of Matvey's pecs. God, this man is wasted as a pakhan. He'd make such an excellent mattress.

Never let him hear you say that, April.

"Your appointment with Dr. Allan," Matvey brings up after a while. "Tell me about it."

"There's not much to say," I reply, sinking further into hydromassage bliss. "Everything's stable. No signs of fetal distress, no labor."

"‘Cozy', was it?"

"Yeah," I groan. "Bit too cozy for my tastes. I'd like my bladder back, thank you."

An amused huff. "So small, and already the boss of you."

"The boss of us ," I correct. "Don't think you'll be immune. I have it on good authority that babies are excellent brainwashers."

"Is that so?"

"Mhmm. Especially when it comes to their daddies. One look into those big doll eyes, and you'll forget anything else exists in the world."

"That sounds a bit farfetched. Who told you that?"

"My mom."

Silence falls again. This time, I can feel the undercurrent of unspoken questions in it. "She must have loved you very much to say that," Matvey murmurs eventually, breaking the curtain of quiet.

"Yeah, right." I let out a bitter laugh. "She was talking about Charlie, not me."

"Your half-brother?"

"Mm." I shift in the water, pulling up my knees. "It was the same with him, you know. The late birth. I was post-term, too, but Charlie must have broken some kind of record."

"That long?"

"Forty-six weeks. In the end, the doctors convinced my mom to induce. It wasn't…" I shudder at the memory. "Pleasant."

"You talk as if you were there."

"I was," I rasp. "Charlie's dad was nowhere to be found. His friends dragged him out of an alley later, drunk off his ass. And it's not like my dad wanted anything to do with his ex after everything, so…" I make finger-guns at myself. "April Flowers, trained doula. At your service."

I throw a glance behind my back, meeting Matvey's skeptical gaze. Something in his eyes gives me pause. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's… angry? "You couldn't have been older than ten."

"Nine," I correct. "And thank you for reminding me you have literal files on my life."

"I'm thorough," Matvey says without a trace of guilt. Then: "Difficult birth, I assume?"

"It was a goddamn battlefield," I exhale. "I remember being in this shitty public clinic, paint flaking off the walls, staff staring off into space like they'd rather eat a scalpel than be there."

"Charming."

"You don't know the half of it."

I take a deep breath. Reliving these memories… It's not easy. Especially considering the circumstances I'm in now. For the longest time, I thought I'd never have kids at all—not if it meant suffering like that.

Goes to show: a lot can change in nine months.

And besides… Matvey's voice in my ear is calm. Grounding. It makes me feel?—

Safe.

I shake my head. That's not a thought I should ever be entertaining. Matvey's made it perfectly clear for which one of us he's here, and it's not little ol' me.

Still… it's hard not to let myself be soothed by it. The strong, comforting presence of this man's arms around me.

So, without thinking, I keep telling the story that's been haunting my nightmares for the past seventeen years.

"She was in labor for thirty hours," I whisper, hugging my knees to my belly. "She was losing so much blood, I didn't think she'd make it. It was like one of those scenes from a regency romance—the tragic backstory to some grief-stricken single dad. Only, there was no dad there. Just me."

Suddenly, Matvey's hands come up to my shoulders. The grip is warm, firm. Soon, they start rubbing circles into my back, working the knotted-up muscles loose.

Why? part of me wants to ask. Why are you taking care of me? Why are you being so kind to me?

Why do all that, when you're not gonna stay?

I shake off that thought, too. I remember Corey's words: no expectations.

"Where's the father now?" Matvey asks, snapping me out of my reverie. There's a note of danger in his voice, one I can't immediately make sense of.

"Tom?" I ask, surprised. "Oh, he's probably passed out on the couch. You know how it is."

"I really don't."

A small smile fights on my lips. "Right. Sometimes, I forget."

"Forget what?"

"That there are fathers who actually want to be a part of their children's lives in this world."

Matvey doesn't say anything to that. For a moment, I wonder if I rendered him speechless. It's a silly thought, one that makes me huff a quiet laugh afterwards.

You think too much of yourself, April Flowers.

"Anyway," I say, reaching for the tray to snatch up another tasty morsel. "Charlie was born healthy. Mom recovered. Tied her tubes. Tom sobered up enough to drive them home. Happily ever after and all that."

"I don't see a little April in this happy ending."

"Little April got driven to school by a really nice nurse." I shrug. "She gave me a lollipop. Most nutritious breakfast I'd had all week." When I see the way Matvey's eyes widen, I give him a playful punch on the shoulder. "Kidding. Though it was a really nice lollipop."

Still staring at me like I've gone halfway crazy, Matvey says, "I assume this is why you're against it. Inducing."

I give a slight nod. "After what happened with Mom… I don't want to go through that. Not if I can avoid it."

I brace myself for the pushback. I've had to defend my choice to every doctor I've spoken to—including Dr. Allan—and I just know Matvey isn't going to be happy with it. Someone with his penchant for control? He'd want to schedule it down to the minute. "Look, I get that?—"

"Then don't."

I blink. "Sorry, what?"

"Don't induce," Matvey says, like it's the easiest thing in the world. "There's no point risking both your lives like that. When the baby's ready, it'll come."

My eyes are probably the size of watermelons right now. "Wow."

Matvey frowns. "Did I say something funny?"

"Nope. I just…" I force myself to float back down to Earth. "Honestly, I was expecting a cage fight about this. Who are you and what have you done with Matvey?"

"I think the steam's gone to your head."

"You know what? Me, too," I say, turning around. "Because there's no way you just agreed with me."

Matvey brushes a wet lock of hair behind my ear. "Stranger things have happened."

I can feel heat rising to my cheeks. "Stranger than Matvey Groza telling me I get to be the boss? I don't think so, no."

Suddenly, it strikes me: I'm naked, dripping wet, and straddling Matvey's lap. I didn't end up in this position purposefully, but now that I'm here…

Now, I kind of don't want to leave.

"You can be the boss of some things," Matvey concedes.

"Like my body?" I hazard.

With a wicked smirk, Matvey's hands move down my frame. One of them settles on my hip, while the other…

"Ah…!"

I gasp at the intrusion. I'm still stretched and sensitive from before—it takes nothing at all for his finger to slip right in.

"No," Matvey breathes directly into my ear. "Definitely not that."

His finger starts pumping in and out of me. Slow—maddening—until I'm panting with need.

"You see, Ms. Flowers," Matvey rasps, with that sandpaper tone of his that never fails to set me on fire, "I'm a real stickler for rules. The rules I set, specifically."

I grip his shoulders. Without my permission, my hips begin to move, chasing Matvey's touch to make it deeper.

But Matvey doesn't let me. Every time I sink down onto him, he draws back, leaving me with nothing except the exact amount of friction he wants to give me. It's enough to drive me wild.

"And we both know…" Matvey breathes against my neck, grazing it with his teeth. "You like following them."

Suddenly, he grabs my hips and turns me around. I reach behind my back to find purchase—something, anything—until I finally find his hair. Nails digging into his scalp, I let out a whine.

I hate how right he is. How easily he's seen through me. When we're like this—lined up, ready to sink into each other—I want nothing more than to stop thinking. About myself, my memories, everything.

And when Matvey fucks my hips down onto himself, impaling me on his throbbing cock, that's exactly what I do.

I stop thinking.

And it feels so, so good.