Nikolai shakes his head. “Letting her go and being a govnosos are two different things.”
“She wanted you at that ultrasound,” Dima says. “Are you going to let her have this baby on her own?”
“That’s what she wanted.” I make a wide gesture with my hand, sloshing more Beluga over my chest. I hiss because it stings where it hits my sunburn.
“Jesus, Ravil, you’re getting burnt. Get off the fucking roof.” Dima speaks, but they both move in concert, grasping the sides of my chaise lounge and tipping it over, so I tumble off.
“Now you’re both dead,” I mutter, lumbering to climb to my feet, which takes more effort than I expected.
“You gotta sleep that shit off,” Nikolai says, ducking when I swing at him and catching my arm instead.
“And take a fucking shower.” Dima grabs my other arm.
I make a half-hearted attempt to shake them off. “Yob vas.” Cursing in Russian is about all I’m capable of at the moment.
“Trust me, boss, you’re gonna thank us later,” Nikolai says.
“No,” I mumble. “I won’t.” I stumble to the door. Or maybe they drag me. It’s hard to tell. There are stairs that are very difficult to navigate.
I’m not going to call Lucy. It’s fucking killing me, but I let her go. If I open that door again, I won’t stop. I’ll claim her as mine, and I’ll never, ever let go.
And Lucy’s not the type of woman who can be held. She can’t be kept.
She’s a bird, and she needs to—
I hit my bed with a thud, and then all thought disappears.
Chapter 20
Lucy
I was a fool. I was a fool to hope and wish and expect Ravil to show up at the ultrasound yesterday even though he didn’t answer my text.
And I’m an even bigger fool now.
But I don’t care.
The pain I felt when he didn’t come, the emptiness, made it all too clear.
I don’t want to do this alone.
Ravil is my baby’s father, and he’s going to be a damn good one. The evidence of that was everywhere, I just was too judgemental to see it. The loyalty of his men speaks to it. The way he handled the teenager in the pool. The soccer kid in the elevator. The way he’s supported and invested in all the businesses of his tenants.
And the most obvious—the way he treated me. Even as his prisoner, he treated me like gold. I was a pampered princess in that penthouse.
But that’s not why I’m going back.
I miss Ravil. I miss his touch. I miss his affectionate smile. I want to know him better, without judging this time. I want to hear about his awful childhood and comfort him instead of setting off his defenses.
I want to give something back to him after all he’s given to me.
I love him.
That’s reason enough.
No, he may not be the partner I would’ve picked if I got to pick a man out of a catalogue, but he’s perfect for me. I can’t imagine a man any better.
And I’m going to go get him.
With my suitcase packed, I take a cab to the Kremlin. It’s past nine and dark out, the city lights flashing on the windows as we drive by. I get out and pay the cab and walk into the lobby.
I don’t recognize the guard at the door. He has tattoos on his forearms, and he looks scary as hell. I swallow and lift my chin.
“I’m going up to the penthouse,” I tell him, trying to breeze past.
“Show me your keycard,” he says in a thick Russian accent.
I stop. Dammit. The upper floors require keycard entry to access in the elevator. Of course, I don’t have one. I lift my chin. “Tell Ravil I’m down here. Tell him I won’t eat until he comes to get me.”
The guy frowns. “Get out.”
Okay, apparently, he doesn’t know this baby is Ravil’s.
I pull out my phone. Fine. I’ll call Ravil myself. Not that I’m sure he’ll even answer.
Crap.
He doesn’t.
“Out,” the guard repeats.
A heavy hand drops on my back. “Oh!” I startle and turn around. Oleg is standing there. He must’ve come in behind me. “Oleg! Zdravstvuyte,” I say, as if by speaking Russian, I’ll magically be able to communicate with him.
He picks up my suitcase and pushes gently on my back, directing me toward the elevator.
The guard says something to Oleg in Russian, and the giant nods without looking back, propelling me gently away from him. We get in the elevator, and I blink up at him.
“Thank you. Blagodaryu vas.”
He doesn’t nod or do anything but stare blankly back at me. If I didn’t already trust the guy, I’d find being alone in an elevator with him extremely intimidating.
He opens the door to the penthouse.
Everything is as normal—Dima, Nikolai and Pavel lounge in the living room, the television on.
Except then I see Ravil standing at the bank of windows that overlook the water. Staring out at the blackness.
Pavel sees me first and lunges for the remote, turning the television off. “Did you go and get her?” he asks Oleg, as if in awe.
Ravil turns around. The moment his eyes land on me, he says, “leave us,” and everyone in the room evacuates.
His expression is dead. Blue eyes cold.
“Why are you here?” he demands.
Okay. So much for a warm welcome. He must be angry over the arrests, then.
Normally, I’d put a little more starch in my backbone to square off against my adversary. But I don’t want to be adversaries anymore. I want us to be lovers. Partners.
So I say, “I had a craving for perogies.”
It doesn’t soften him. “I’m sorry. I think we’re all out.”
My stomach twists, and Benjamin kicks back.
He walks slowly toward me, and as he does, I see his expression isn’t cold. It’s tortured. He has dark circles under his eyes, and he hasn’t shaved in a couple days, at least. “I let you go, Lucy. You shouldn’t have come back.”
I blink back tears. What is he saying? He doesn’t want me anymore? Actually, he’d never said he did—he’d just wanted the baby. But he’d acted like he did. Had I read it all wrong? “Maybe…” I struggle to control the wobble in my voice. “Maybe I didn’t want to be let go.”
He comes closer. His expression is shadowed with pain. “Don’t say it if it’s not true.”
“It’s true.”
He stops in front of me, taking in my suitcase, which Oleg left out here. He reaches out and brushes his knuckles across my cheekbone. “I won’t settle for partway. I want all of you.” Pain radiates from him.
I reach out and cup his cheek. “I’m here, Ravil. This is where I want to be. With you. Raising our son.”
Ravil lets out a wounded sound and attacks my mouth, his lips and teeth and tongue devouring me with a searing kiss. “Are you sure?” He scoops me up, honeymoon style, even though I’m way too big now.
“I need you,” I tell him.
His smile is feral. He carries me to his bedroom and kicks the door open. Deposits me on the bed.
“I missed you,” I tell him as I pull off my maternity top.