58. Matvey

58

MATVEY

Dawn comes far too quickly. I haven't closed my eyes all night, but that's fine.

I had something else to look at.

April stirs against the morning light. "Hi there."

"Hi."

She blinks all the way awake and gives me a cheeky grin. "What's with that face? What are you thinking about?"

"Everything."

It's the truth. All night, I've done nothing but think: about April, our child… and us.

We're going to be parents soon. It's taken a while to sink in, but finally, it has: in a week's time, we're going to meet our baby. In a week's time, April will be a mother.

And I'll be a father.

"That's a lot of thoughts," she teases. "Couldn't be me. It's far too early."

"Is it?" I rasp. "Because I've been thinking the opposite."

"What's that?"

"That I've gotten here far too late."

I've never been this liberal with my words. If I can avoid speaking at all, I do. I've trained my men to respond to one glance, one gesture from me.

But with April, I want to say it all.

As I let my hand trail over her belly, I want to say she doesn't have to do this alone. That I don't want her to do this alone. Not anymore.

I don't want to just be there for dinner. Instead, I want to be there for her. For them. The family we're about to become.

Ever since that cursed break-in, I've been swallowing my words. My fear. The one thing a pakhan should never allow himself to feel.

But I can admit it now: I was terrified.

When it comes to April—when it comes to our child —I remember what it's like to fear. I remember what it's like to hold something so dear, you'd do anything to protect it. Anything at all.

And I remember something else, too.

"Matvey?" April asks, her hand finding my face.

I grasp it in mine. Then, of all the words I want to say to her, I pick three.

"I love you."

It comes out naturally. Like I never thought it would again.

"Don't say that," April whispers, eyes shining and smile wavering. "Don't say it if you don't mean it."

"I mean it."

I flip her on her back. Like this, spread out under me, hair fanned around her head and cheeks flushed pink, she looks every bit like a flower.

"You asked me why I called off the wedding. This is why."

"But your dream?—"

"Revenge isn't a dream. It's a goal."

It's still my goal , I think but don't say, because it feels wrong to stain this moment with that. The blood I still thirst for. Where April's concerned, I don't want anything to taint her.

"But you still want that," she says for me.

"Yes," I admit. "I want that. And I want everything else, too."

That's always been at my core—this insatiable fucking greed. As pakhan , I want the world at my feet. As a son, I want revenge.

And as a man…

"I want you. "

April's hazel eyes fill with tears. I watch them cling to her eyelashes, a thousand tiny pearls. "Matvey…"

"I want you," I repeat, cupping her cheek, "and no one else. Not even if it's fake."

Then I kiss her.

I kiss her softly. Sweetly. Like I've never kissed her before. There is hunger inside me, but for once, it isn't looking to consume.

For once, it's content with this .

Her.

Us.

"You mean it?" April breathes against my lips when we pull apart. "You really mean it? This isn't a dream?"

"I can pinch you, if you like."

She laughs. "Why do I have a feeling you'll do it anyway?"

I grab the tender skin of her hips between my index and thumb. "Because, April Flowers, you're mine. And I get to do whatever I want with you."

Her eyes go dark and hooded. "Is that so?"

"That is so."

"And what does Matvey Groza want to do with me now?"

"I want to move in with you. Permanently."

April blinks in surprise. No doubt, she'd been expecting something else.

It's not that I don't want that something else. It's like I said: I want everything . But first, I want April to know I'm not going anywhere.

"I mean…" she stammers, flushed from head to toe. "This is technically your place…"

"Mm. And everything in it, too," I whisper against her ear. "All mine."

Before I can be tempted, I rise. I don't have many things—I'll just grab the essentials from my loft. The files I keep there, too. This week, I want to work from home as much as possible.

Home. That word still tastes foreign on my tongue.

So I take April's hand and replace that taste with hers.

I kiss it like so many times before. But this isn't like those other times; those were goodbyes. Endings.

This is a beginning.

"I'll be back soon," I promise.

April smiles up at me. "I'll be waiting."

To get to the loft, I hail a cab. After yesterday's scare, I'd rather have Grisha keeping watch outside April's door. If anything were to happen while I'm gone, he can drive her to the hospital.

I'd have Yuri come get me, but he isn't picking up.

When I get to my apartment, I find the door unlocked. Must be Yuri , I tell myself, but still reach for my gun on the off-chance.

Then I walk in and see her .

"Matvey."

I can't believe it. I truly cannot fucking believe it. "You have five seconds to get out of my sight."

I take in her appearance: she looks like she hasn't slept a wink, either. Hair messed up, makeup smeared. Her eyes are vacant, terrified, her face as pale as a ghost's. Even for me, it's a jarring fucking sight. Enough to almost make me put away my gun.

Then she has the gall to ask, "Is April okay?"

"Yes," I growl. "No thanks to you. Three seconds."

"Matvey, we need to talk."

"Was I not clear yesterday?" I raise my gun to make my point. "Two seconds."

If this is a desperate attempt to talk me into reconsidering our deal, it's far too late. She put April in danger. She put my child in danger.

What could she possibly say to change my mind now?

"Matvey — "

"One . "

"I'm pregnant!"

I pull my finger away from the trigger. The words ring in my head like a gunshot. "What did you just say?"

"I'm pregnant," she repeats, voice shaking. "And it's yours."