19. Valentina

Chapter 19

Valentina

Over the next few days, we spend most of our time reconfiguring our assets and introducing me to the business side of the Bratva. I take Russian lessons from Ezra, political ones from Andrei, and geographical ones from Mikhail. We spend a lot of our time either in Andrei's office, the library, or touring the city in Mikhail's sports car or on Ezra's motorcycle.

But the best part of all comes at the end of a long week, after all of our lessons are complete for the day, and we're able to relax. Andrei leads me out the back of the estate to watch the sunset. We're in the throes of autumn, gearing up for winter, and the leaves around us fall in flurries more each day.

I'm looking forward to cozy nights snuggled between my men, watching the snow fall, or listening to the crackle of a fire.

But for now, enjoying the chill of nightfall and the cascade of fading sunlight feels just as perfect as everything else.

Andrei kisses the top of my head. "I have a surprise for you, zhena. Come with me." He takes my hand and brings me past the gardens, across the expanse of withering grass, to the Baranova cemetery tucked in the back corner of the estate. I haven't been here since Mikhail brought me to my father's grave. There's nothing for me here but a reminder of what's been lost.

My chest aches as we draw near. "I don't want to go in."

If I see my father's plot again, I might be sick. I was so angry when Mikhail showed it to me—when I realized all the lies he'd told and how he hadn't buried my mother like he'd promised.

If Andrei is taking me to see my grandmother's plot, I might really get sick. She is no better than my father, in the end. "I thought we weren't burying her." I keep my gaze unfocused as I'm brought to the center of the cemetery, where my father's been buried. I don't want to see it. I don't want to feel all the hurt and anger and resentment after spending so many days healing, surrounded by love.

All I'll find here is heartbreak and grief.

"I don't want to be here, Andrei."

He glances at me from over his shoulder. "Do you trust me?"

I take a deep breath. Of course I trust him. I follow him deeper into the cemetery. At first, I keep my eyes on the fading pinks and purples in the sky, avoiding the inevitable end of our journey, and the emotions I'll have to face. I know, he's probably wanting to give me closure.

But I don't want it.

I could never come back here again and be okay with that.

It isn't until we've come to a stop that I finally lower my gaze.

I don't understand what I'm looking at. Two trees frame a simple, white stone lying flat in the earth. My father's tall, domineering tombstone is missing—in fact, all of the dirt and decay surrounding it is gone. In its place are seasonal flowers delicately composed around the new memorial and a stone path leading to it.

"You redid my father's grave?" The dirt's been disturbed, chopped up to put in the flowers and decor. It's pretty.

Nothing about my father was, or should be, pretty.

Andrei shakes his head. "I thought we could put something better here." Gently, he pulls me beneath the canopy and onto the path. I stare at the new white granite headstone, squinting to read the etching in the fading light.

In memory of Maeve Baranova, beloved mother and protector

Tears fill my eyes. "Mom?" I lower myself to my knees and brush my fingertips over the stone. She will finally be honored in the way she deserves. It's not enough to make up for the past, but it's close.

Andrei squeezes my hand as he kneels by my side. "Mikhail told me what happened when he brought you here before. I had your father removed from the property and this built in its place. We'll replace the flowers each season so that there is always something in bloom, and the trees will grow to encompass a much larger space, in time. They should bloom in the spring with pink flowers. We can add a bench, if you'd like, or a fountain. Whatever you think Maeve would like, or what you would like. This is a space for the two of you."

I can't stop the tears from coming. They flow freely, wetting my cheeks and blurring my vision. I swipe at my eyes, but it's no use. I'm overflowing with love—for my mother, for Andrei, for this space he's given us. "Thank you," I murmur, holding in a sob. "Thank you so much."

He pulls me into his chest and lets me cry against him. My tears turn into sobs, wracking my body. I wish my mom were here for real, to see the love I share with these men. To see what we're going to build together. How we're going to reshape the Bratva to be better than she experienced.

I'll carry her with me in memory, and I'll come here to share pieces of my life with her. I glance around the cemetery at all the graves. Maybe we can spruce the entire place up. Expand the gardens to encompass the family cemetery. Make it a place of remembrance instead of one of death.

The sun sets with an indigo haze overhead, and amber-colored solar lights flick on, hanging from the two trees and lighting the path back home. We stay for a while longer while I tell Andrei stories about my mother: who she was, how she loved, and which parts of her I see reflected within me.

Two Months Later

Snow blankets the ground in a sheet of white, undisturbed if it weren't for my trek to my mother's memorial. Andrei insists on having our groundskeepers shovel the snow, but I like how quiet everything is in the winter. The whole world stills, waiting on bated breath for the first stirrings of spring.

I can't believe how quickly time has flown by, nor can I believe how much has changed in a few short months. I'm more fluent in Russian thanks to Ezra's tutelage, and I can navigate the entire city without relying on a GPS. Andrei has introduced me to every prominent member of society that we're on good terms with, and the children's home is flourishing with its new headmistress and foster program in full swing.

I couldn't have done any of it alone. And now, especially, I'll need more help than ever.

I lay out the waterproof blanket I brought with me, then sit in the middle of my mother's grove. I lay a second, thick wool blanket over my legs and wrap my cloak tighter around me. My breaths puff into the air and crystallize in the freezing temperatures. I won't be able to stay out here too long, but there's something I need to confess.

I lace my fingers together in my lap. "I think I might be pregnant." I've felt different lately. Cramping at random moments. A little irrational with my emotions. "I haven't taken a test or anything, and I haven't told my husbands. I'm not sure what they'll say."

Andrei wants at least one child, maybe more. He says he's okay with adopting, but I know he'd love one of his creation. Mikhail plays indifferent, but he's become obsessed with filling me with his cum and keeping his cock buried inside for as long as possible. I know it's because he's trying to get me pregnant. And Ezra . . . he's the one with that unmistakable glimmer of hope in his eyes. He does well with the kids at the orphanage, but I catch him watching me interact with the children more and more as time goes on.

They all want hope for our future.

But I don't know if I'm ready for it.

"Were you ready to be a mom?" I listen for any sign that she's here with me. A bird chirps nearby, and I imagine that it's her. "I know that you married young and that your main purpose was producing an heir." I bite my lip. It's the same role I was meant to play, in the before. Things are different now, and I have an active role in decisions involving the Bratva and its people. But does that mean that I can have a baby girl and everything will still be okay?

"I don't know how to tell them."

I guess I should take a test first. But they'll know if I go out and buy one.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to find a text from Celia about a gala she's attending soon, asking if I'm going. I quickly type a message before I lose my nerve.

Can I come over?

Her reply is an immediate yes , and I breathe a sigh of relief. If anyone can keep a secret, it's Celia. The woman's been keeping many of her own, lately.

I get Ezra to drop me off in her driveway an hour later. He unclasps my helmet and gives me a tender kiss. "Let me know when ready for pick up." His phone chimes, and we both already know who it is.

Mikhail's been agitated that his sister won't return his calls. He likely received a GPS ping once we arrived at her house.

"He is stubborn bastard," Ezra sighs. "I will handle him. Enjoy visit, lisichka ." We kiss a little longer before I walk to the front door. Once Celia opens it with a wave, he drives off into the distance.

Celia ushers me inside, and the first thing I notice is that her home feels more lived-in than before. The blanket on the couch isn't folded, the candles around the house have all been burned to the ends, and there are handprints on some of her walls that you can see in the right slant of light. I raise an eyebrow at a bottle of lube I spy on her coffee table.

She clears her throat and shoves the bottle into a random drawer. "Excuse the mess. I've had company."

"I can see," I muse, trying to hide my smile but failing. "It must be really good company if you left the lube out." I laugh as she blushes crimson, like I've caught her in a scandal. "I'm not judging, I promise! I'm happy for you!"

Celia sucks her cheeks in. "Thank you. It's all very new. I'm still adjusting to things." She brushes chestnut hair over her shoulder, revealing a love bite she may not realize is there. "But that conversation calls for wine. White or red, Val?" She slips into the kitchen and pops open her wine cooler.

"None for me, thanks."

Her hand freezes on the door, and she turns to face me in slow motion. "Are you sure? I've got a peach flavor that's to die for." She smiles, but it's pinched at the edges. "Too early for a drink?"

I clear my throat. "I actually wanted your help with something. I know it's rude to come over and ask for a favor, but?—"

She shakes her head, shutting the wine cooler and coming over to take both my hands in hers. "Never apologize. We're sisters, Valentina. What do you need?"

Her warm chocolate eyes bore into mine. When we first met, I thought she was a spitting image of her brother, but her eyes are a shade lighter, and a few freckles dust her cheeks, whereas Mikhail has none. Taking a breath, I ask for the secret favor. "Please don't tell them, but I think I might be pregnant. Do you have a test I could use?"

Her eyes tear up a little, and she nods. "Of course, honey." She swipes her eyes, a tiny laugh spilling past her lips. "Oh, look at me. I'm such a mess. Sorry about the tears." She takes a quick breath. "I have plenty of tests, Valentina. Take as many as you'd like, then you can take some home, too, okay?"

I squeeze her hands in mine. "Are you okay?"

She smiles, sweeter this time. "I've never been better. I promise."

We head upstairs to her master bath and she shows me a full drawer of pregnancy tests. Some are little pink strips, while others are the plastic sticks you pee on, still wrapped in the box. Celia lets me pick which ones I want. "When Caleb and I were trying, I got a little carried away. But! We don't want these to go to waste, now, do we? Take as many as you'd like."

"I don't need all of them." I grab five and leave about ten more in the drawer. "I can take two here, then bring three home. One for each of my men to see." I nearly roll my eyes at the thought that each man needs his own test to prove I'm pregnant or not, but I wouldn't put it past them.

Especially Mikhail.

"Well, if you need more, you know where to find them."

I thank Celia as she closes the door on her way out. Then, I spend a few minutes reading the instructions on the box. I already know what to do; I'm merely stalling for time. Taking a deep breath, I sit on the toilet and will myself to pee.

Taking a test shouldn't be this hard.

As I wait for the results of test number one, I take test number two, then clean up and sit on the edge of the tub.

All that's left to do now is wait.

Celia knocks gently. "Everything okay in there?"

"Just waiting."

"Do you want some company?"

I open the door and let Celia inside. She perches on the vanity while we wait. "You know," she says after a pregnant pause, "it's okay to be nervous. Having a baby is a big change, and you've gone through a lot of change lately." She rubs my shoulder fondly. "No one will blame you for being unsure about what comes next."

I take a deep breath and hold it. I can picture Ezra cradling the tiniest little baby in his arms, gently rocking it to sleep. Or Mikhail, bringing her a thousand stuffed toys and footie pajamas that she'll have to grow into. Andrei napping on the couch with the baby swaddled against his chest. All of these little fragments are wishes for the future.

I do want a baby. So much. That's what scares me—that this is all in my head, or that I'll lose the baby before it's even born, or that I'll somehow mess her up with my genes. "I come from a pretty messed up family," I admit slowly. "I didn't realize it until I got older, but. . . things weren't as perfect as they seemed." I think of my beautiful mother and all the secrets hidden behind her smiles. "I don't know if my parents really loved each other."

It makes me sad to think that my mother never knew what it felt like to be loved. Sure, Katya must have loved her daughter, but the touch of a lover who's in love with you feels wonderful. It's like sunlight kissing your skin after a cold winter's night—warm and glowing and full of life.

"Then there's the whole Baranova thing, with my bloodline. It's made me a target." I wrap my arms around my stomach. "I've been a bargaining chip my whole life. I don't want that to happen to my baby." My biggest fear is that they'll go through the same things I did and be just as na?ve and manipulated as I was. "What if I can't protect them? What if having my blood is a curse?"

Celia hops off the vanity and buries me in a hug. " If you're pregnant," she begins softly, "then your baby is lucky to have a mother who cares so much. And her fathers?" She huffs a quick laugh. "They'll be so in love with her because she's a part of you , and they love their momma fiercely. They love themselves too. Mainly Mikhail, so he'll double-love her for being a mini version of himself." That makes us both chuckle. "But she'll also have an auntie who won't let a damned thing happen to her." Celia winks. "She'll be popular in the city as a Baranova, yes, but that also means that the Bratva will look after her. You'll see."

" If I'm pregnant."

She squeezes my hand. "Let's find out."

I swallow and stare at the two plastic sticks sitting on the back of the toilet. I pick them up at the same time and slowly turn them over, my heart racing.

Two pink lines confirm it.

I'm pregnant.

Now, I have to tell the fathers.