63. Viviana

The hospital room is beige and bland. Anatoly snuck in some French fries and a strawberry milkshake when he brought Dante to visit for lunch, so the food situation isn't as miserable as it was a few hours ago, but as soon as they left, it was back to the beige, bland silence.

Back to Mikhail pacing the room, back and forth and back and forth across the scuffed terrazzo tiles. The only time he stops is to stare through the blinds at the city around, his dark brow furrowed.

Even full of worry and anxiety, Mikhail is the only bright spot in the room for me.

That selfishness is the only reason I've let him pace in stormy silence for so long. I don't want him to leave.

"I'm getting dizzy," I complain when he turns away from the window once again to continue pacing. "You don't have to stay. You asked me to give you time and I said I would. If you have things to do, you can go."

Mikhail turns to me. His blue eyes clear like he's coming out of a dream. He's been deep in his head ever since Dr. Rossi told us that I'm having a baby girl.

He'd never admit it, but he's terrified. Having a little girl probably feels like he's trying to replace the daughter he lost. There's a part of me that hoped we would have another boy for that very reason. I always knew this was a possibility.

Just a couple months ago, Mikhail vowed to never have a real family ever again. A lot has changed since then, but old habits die hard.

"I want to make sure you're okay."

I laugh. "Dr. Rossi said I was okay yesterday. The only reason I'm still here is because you insisted. I could probably track down a nurse and get myself released in five minutes."

Mikhail draws closer to the bed, a devilish smirk tugging the corner of his mouth. "You'll have to get through me first."

Heat settles low in my belly. It's been there since Mikhail pulled me out of bed yesterday and dragged me to the hospital. Nothing kills the mood faster than unexplained vaginal bleeding, I guess.

"Gladly," I purr.

Mikhail's eyes darken, but I see the moment he realizes what I'm doing. When he does, he turns away from me and starts pacing again. "You need time to heal."

"There's nothing to heal," I whimper, slumping deeper under the scratchy blanket. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're just pacing around this room as a way to procrastinate."

Mikhail hesitates long enough that I know I struck a nerve.

"I'm sorry," I blurt. "I didn't?—"

"No." He drops down into the armchair next to my bed. "You're right. I'm not exactly thrilled about what I have to do."

"Giving up the Bratva?" I guess, steeling myself for the answer.

I worried Mikhail might regret choosing me, but I didn't think it would happen quite this fast.

"What comes with it," he corrects, his elbows resting on his knees. "The danger it puts you and Dante and—our baby girl in."

The knot of anxiety in my chest loosens, but doesn't disappear. With the life I've lived, I'm not sure it will ever fully go away. "You have a plan, then?"

"I do. It's…" He chuckles humorlessly and drags a hand over his neck. "It's fucking crazy. People are going to think I've lost my mind."

"Have you?"

Mikhail's blue eyes find mine and hold. He bridges the space between us without moving a muscle. I feel him inside of my head, my heart. The connection between us is a tangible thing. I hope it never goes away.

"No," he says firmly. "This is the most certain I've felt about a decision in a long time. I know I'm doing the right thing. But I'm not used to putting my trust in other people."

I sit up tall. "Who are you putting trust in? What kind of trust?"

Will they hurt you? Will you be safe?

Now, Mikhail really does bridge the space between us. He leans forward and takes my hand. I don't realize how cold my fingers are until they're curled against his. "I don't want to keep secrets from you, but the less you know now, the safer you'll be."

"Mikhail, if this is dangerous, then it isn't worth it. Nothing is worth your safety."

"You are," he fires back. "Dante is. The future we're working towards is worth my safety."

"But it's not the future I want if you're not in it!" I cry. Tears spill over my cheeks and I swipe them away. "God, I'm tired of crying. It feels like it's all I do anymore."

Mikhail brushes my tears away. "Hormones."

"Yeah," I mutter. "Hormones and… I've been here before. Kind of. With Matteo."

Mikhail doesn't say anything. He just holds my hand tighter, waiting.

"I was just a kid, but, at the time, I really loved him. I thought we could overcome anything—anyone. I took a risk and tried to escape the world I was born into. I tried to run away and live out my fantasy with Matteo. Then my father murdered him in front of me."

"I'm not scared of your father, Viviana," he says gently.

"Maybe you should be. You're going to have to face him at some point, right? He's mixed up in all of this. And he knows how much you mean to me, Mikhail. If there was ever a way for my dad to use up all of his anger and get back at me, hurting you would be it. He'll take a shot if you give him one."

"Then I won't give him one." He kisses my knuckles. "I'll be careful."

I bite my lower lip and nod, trying hard to blink back tears. "You mean everything to me, Mikhail. Absolutely every?—"

The words choke off in a sob.

Suddenly, my scratchy blanket is gone and Mikhail is sliding into bed next to me. He curls his warm body around mine, enveloping me until I can't move in the best imaginable way. "I'll do absolutely everything I can to be safe," he whispers against my temple. "Getting home to you and Dante is the only thing that matters to me."

I press my forehead to his chest and breathe deeply. I sync my breaths with his. I count seconds to the rhythmic thump of his heart.

Being with him like this will never get old. I spent years alone in my bed, wishing someone else in the world could hold me like this. Wishing someone could know me. Not my fake name or the fake life I'd propped up like a facade, but me.

And here he is.

Slowly, my hand slides from his ribs to the taper of his waist. And lower still. Mikhail catches my wrist when I move for his waistband. "You need to rest."

"This is how I rest." I tip my chin up, pressing a kiss to the pulse in his throat. "Being with you is rest. It's the only time I can just… be."

His fingers splay across my lower back, laying claim to the skin exposed by my flimsy hospital gown. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Then take me slowly, Mikhail." I thread my fingers through his and guide his hand to my hip. "Take your time."

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, watching his fingers move over my cheek. Finally, his eyes find mine. He leans forward until we're a breath apart. I inhale the mint and citrus scent of his skin—the smell of home.

His lips are shockingly gentle against mine. It's a slow, easy kiss that makes me desperate for more. But I'm desperate for this, too. For the press of his tongue against mine. For the way we explore each other slowly with teeth and lips and tongues like we have a lifetime.

Eventually, his hands slide down my body. He traces the dips and swells of me until I'm a pile of melted contentment in the bed. He hooks a hand behind my knee and curls my leg over his hip. When he finally presses into me, I sigh with relief.

"Tell me if I hurt you." His whisper is breathy and uneven. He's holding himself back.

I cradle his stubbled cheek and press our foreheads together. "The only way this will hurt is if you leave."

He angles my hips and slides deeper. "I won't leave, Viviana. There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

We move together slowly, our panting breaths mingling together between us. If the nurses notice my vitals spiking, they mind their own business. No one comes into my room to interrupt. It's just me and Mikhail in a slow, relentless build to my climax.

When I whimper that I'm close, Mikhail claims my mouth. He seals our lips together and swallows every cry as I pulse around him.

When it's his turn, I curl my fingers through his hair and he buries his groans in my neck.

He lifts his face to reveal that his cheeks are flushed and he's smiling. But it fades when he sees the tears slipping down my face. "Did I hurt you?"

A watery laugh bubbles out of me. "No. I just… I even cry when I'm happy now."

Amusement burns in his eyes when he presses a kiss to my forehead. "Then I see a lot of crying in your future, Viviana."

I hope like hell he's right.