“I’ve got to check in with Cillian,” I tell her. “It’s been a few days since our last call and I need to stay updated. I haven’t been this disconnected from the Bratva since… well, since ever.”
Her expression takes on that careful, weary quality that I don’t like seeing. I take her hand and thread her fingers through mine.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” she mumbles.
“Don’t lie.”
She sighs. “Is it really so bad?” she asks. “To be disconnected from it all?”
“No,” I reply carefully. “But I am the don, Esme, no matter what my uncle may be saying. I’m responsible for all the men that follow me. I need to know what’s happening.”
She drops her gaze. I know it’s because she doesn’t want me to see what’s in her eyes. “Would it really be so awful if we were to just… stay up here?”
“Really?” I press. “You want to live in this cabin until we’re old and grey?”
“Why not?” she counters, her chin jutting out a little. “It’s peaceful and quiet and we don’t have to worry about anyone trying to kill us.”
“I’ll kill every single man who even thinks of hurting you,” I tell her firmly.
She nods. “I know that. I just wish you didn’t need to.”
Before I can say anything else, she disentangles herself from my arms and gets off the bed and onto her feet.
I watch as she walks naked to the chair that we usually throw our clothes on. She grabs my t-shirt and slips it over her head. It swallows her blossoming body, leaving only her legs on full display.
“What do you want for breakfast?”
“What do you want for breakfast?” I toss back at her.
“At this point,” Esme muses, rubbing her belly, “it’s really about what this little guy wants for breakfast. And I think he’s craving bacon and cheese and croissants with garlic butter.”
I chuckle. “Oh, just that? You don’t want crepes and a seafood tower, too, princess?”
“Well, if you’re offering…”
I toss a pillow at her. She shrieks and scrambles out of the room, laughing.
I get up with a yawn and follow her into the kitchen.
The place looks a lot different now than the state we found it in. It’s clean, for one thing, but we also have cabinets stocked with different food products, and a small mini-fridge in the corner to store our meats, along with a few locally-grown fruits and vegetables.
Esme opens the fridge and pulls out the milk and our last carton of eggs.
“Omelet?” she asks.
“I’d do devious things to you for one of those.”
She wrinkles her nose in mock disgust. “You’d do devious things to me for no reason at all.”
“Touché.”
Esme gets to work on breakfast, humming as she cooks. I go out to the car to check our supplies.
We should be good for another week or so up here. I wonder if there’s a possibility we might stay longer. I know Esme loves the peace and quiet of the mountains.
But it’s also more than that.
She’s desperate to avoid the chaos that awaits us the moment we leave this cabin.
My memories unfold suddenly as I step into the crisp mountain air. I remember a conversation I’d had with Marisha what feels like a lifetime ago now.
“Where were you?” Marisha asks, her eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
“I was working, babe.”
She flinches back from my touch, a hand falling to her growing belly. “I waited for you.”
“Marisha,” I sigh, “you know I have to work.”
“Work,” she spits. “You say that like you have a real job.”
I frown. “What’s gotten into you?”
She’s never this combative. The woman is unflappable. It was one of the reasons I’d been so attracted to her in the first place.
“What’s gotten into me?” she repeats. “Are you serious?”
“Marisha—”
“I’m terrified, Artem!” she says. “I’m terrified to bring a baby into this world. It’s not safe.”
“I’ll keep him safe,” I assure her. “I’ll keep you both safe.”
“One of these days, Artem, you’re going to wake up and realize you’re mortal, same as everyone else. You can’t stop death, and you certainly can’t reverse it. I don’t want to lose my child to this life.”
“Maybe you should have thought about that before you married me then,” I snap back at her.
She flinches away from the bite in my voice.
I regret my tone immediately.
She deserves more than a short-tempered husband who disregards her fears.
“I’m sorry,” I say, reaching for her hand and pulling her to me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
She sighs. “I’m so scared for my baby, Artem.”
“Our baby, Marisha,” I correct her. “And I told you, I will protect you both.”
“You promise?” she asks, looking up at me with those gorgeous blue eyes.
“I promise.”
I meant that. I really did.
61
Artem
I force myself out of the memory and close the trunk of the car. I look up through the front door of the cabin to see Esme moving around near the kitchen.
Am I repeating the same mistake here? Hadn’t I just promised Esme the same thing I promised Marisha?
Why would this time be different?
I walk into the cabin just as Esme sets our plates down on the table. I join her, but I’ve completely lost my appetite.
“We need more milk,” she says as she drains her glass. “And eggs. And bread. And, um… everything else.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Hey, I’m pregnant,” she reminds me again.
“I know, I know,” I say, lifting my hands up in surrender. “And it’s my fault.”
“Right.” Esme nods, satisfied. “So you need to keep me fed and happy.”
“Aye-aye, captain,” I say, giving her a mock salute. “Do you wanna join me today?”
She thinks about it for a second. “I think I’d rather just stay in the cabin,” she decides. “But if you happen to pass by a book store—”
“I’ll see what they have.”
“Thanks,” she says, with a contented smile. Then her eyes glance down to my plate. “You’re not eating,” she points out.
I pick up my
