Just knowing a baby was growing inside her was already a lot to take in, but as Lauren Volkov studied her reflection in the mirror—a habit she’d picked up the moment she learned she was pregnant—her hands drifting over the swollen bump of her stomach, she couldn’t help but think of how surreal it all was.

Coming back from her honeymoon, taking the test, and countless visits with a private physician … she couldn’t have ever imagined at twenty-four years old, she would be pregnant with her first child.

Then again, there was a lot about her life she’d never imagined would actually happen.

Like moving to New York and graduating from NYU, and marrying Mishca, her very own Russian mob boss.

For a moment, she’d worried what  his reaction would be to the news that they were expecting. They’d never gotten around to talking about children, not before or after the wedding, and the idea of him not wanting them had made her stomach twist and pinch, fear settling over her. But with the truth hovering over her head, she had no choice but to tell him and hope for the best.

After she told him and saw his reaction, she wasn’t sure how she had ever thought it possible that he wouldn’t be excited for their baby. But, there were still moments, like now as she felt the baby kick, that she wondered how their child would fit into their world.

Especially if she had a boy.

Boys were meant to follow in their father’s footsteps—it was the Bratva way—but was it so wrong that she hoped the pain and ruthlessness that came with those footsteps wouldn’t touch him?

She hadn’t voiced her concerns to Mishca, not yet. Not when he had so much on his plate with his new position in the vory v zakone and the problems surrounding Alex and Luka.

Had it only been two weeks now that things had changed so drastically? Alex had run off to Paris, accepting a position in a ballet company there to get away from Mishca after what he’d done. Lauren understood why she left, even as she wanted them to work it out—she’d also hated what Mishca had done, but what she felt was undoubtedly a fraction of what Alex did.

Not once in the years they’d been together had she seen him act so cold, both to her and Alex. For the first time, it had been Klaus that was the voice of reason.

He’d been the one to practically drag her from that room, out the back door of the club and into his car. He had attempted to explain Mishca’s actions, but nothing he said made her feel any better, and by the time she got home, she was practically in hysterics.

The hormones hadn’t helped, which only amplified everything she was feeling.

Luka had been her friend.

She didn’t care that his name wasn’t really Luka, or that he had come into the Bratva with a past that directly involved both Mishca and Klaus, she only cared about what she knew of him. That person had been like the neurotic, loving brother she’d never had.

Since then, Mishca had given her space and Klaus had disappeared as only he could do. But today, she had another appointment with the gynecologist, and though she hadn’t seen much of him lately, she knew Mishca would be there. Whether he had to cancel meetings, interrupt a gun deal, anything, he was always there for the baby.

She had to remember the person she’d seen a couple of weeks ago wasn’t always the man she’d fallen in love with.

Turning away from the mirror, Lauren headed into the closet, grabbing a pair of yoga pants and a stretchy shirt—her usual uniform as of late—and walked back out the bedroom. By the time she made it out to the living room, the elevator doors that opened into the penthouse were closing, Mishca already walking in, his phone glued to his ear.

Despite how often Klaus made fun of his phone, Mishca refused to give up his blackberry.

When he spotted her walking toward him, he quickly ended the call, pocketing the device, but stood where he was. He took giving her space quite literally, at least in the beginning, but she knew it wouldn’t last long.

A part of her felt like a traitor, wanting desperately to give in and forgive him. Walk over and feel his arms close around her, but she had to make her stance clear now that he couldn’t walk all over her or treat her the way he did his men.

So if that meant depriving herself to teach him a lesson, she would do it.

Finally, he was the one to break the silence. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay.”

“Truthfully?”

Avoiding his eyes, she went to the kitchen, hunting through the refrigerator for the jar of peanut butter she had stashed inside, and then got a spoon from the drawer to her right. Before the pregnancy, while she might not have hated the stuff, she hadn’t been the biggest fan of it. Now? She craved it.

Her back to him, she might have otherwise noticed his approach, but by the time he was suddenly standing behind her, his arm had already slipped around her waist, his hand drifting beneath the edge of her shirt as his fingers splayed across her belly, it was too late.

“I can hear you at night,” he said softly, soothing away the discomfort she felt with just a pass of his hand. “You’re restless.”

Because the baby was most active at night. Usually, with Mishca beside her, he settled, but now it was as if he too felt his absence.

For just a moment, she allowed herself to relax back against him, accepting the comfort his presence brought. Everything just felt better when he was around.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered next to her, “for what had to be done.”

Stiffening, she pulled away from him, stepping to the side to widen the distance between them. “Even so, the way you went about it was wrong, Mish. Don’t you get that?”

He sighed, dropping his hand to his side. “He wasn’t—”

“This isn’t about Luka. That upsets me too, don’t get me wrong, but I’m more angry about how carelessly you treated Alex, not to mention the way you spoke to me. Yes, the Bratva is yours and I know that I’m your wife and it’s not my place to question you, but sometimes you can be cruel.”

He looked confused, as though the idea of him having hurt her for any other reason than having Luka forced out was baffling. People said things in the heat of the moment, she knew. It only made her wonder if he even remembered what he’d said in the first place.

“Lauren, I—”

He was interrupted by his chiming phone, and his irritation at this showed on his face. He answered, speaking rapidly before he was hanging up again. “The physician is here.”

Every hint of vulnerability that had been present in his face was wiped clean as he left the kitchen, the mask he wore for others firmly back in place.

Sometimes, Lauren thought as she followed after him, it felt like that mask was becoming more permanent.

Putting it to the back of her mind, Lauren greeted Dr. Elizabeth Springer as she entered the penthouse, her assistant coming in behind her with the mobile equipment they’d brought along. It hadn’t even been a day after she told him about her pregnancy that Mishca had gone out and found a private physician willing to make house calls—and not ask too many questions.

She was one of the best—if not the best—gynecologists in the state and after seeing one of the bills lying around, Lauren knew she didn’t come cheap.

“Good to see you, Lauren,” Dr. Springer greeted with her customary smile. “How are you feeling? Has the nausea gotten worse since our last appointment?”

If there was one thing Lauren disliked about being pregnant, it was the morning sickness. She’d learned very quickly that the nausea wasn’t regulated to the wee hours of the morning, it hit whenever it felt like it, and when it did, she was bowed over a toilet for far too long.

Sometimes, just the smell of whatever dinner Mishca brought home—even if it was just a whiff—could send enough stumbling into the bathroom gagging.

Thankfully, it had toned down to only once every few days.

“It’s better,” she answered after a moment, watching Mishca as he removed his jacket and tossed it across the back of the armchair. “Not nearly as bad as a few weeks ago.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it. And the baby? Have you felt any movement?”

Lauren reflexively dropped a hand to her stomach.

She answered in the affirmative, then explained all she had felt since their last appointment. When Dr. Springer nodded, asking follow up questions, Lauren relaxed a little more.

Everything was going as it should.

By the time they finished and Dr. Springer had everything recorded in the file she kept for them, her nerves shot up.

Today was the day they’d find out the sex.

If they had a girl, she knew Mishca would spoil her rotten—Klaus too, undoubtedly despite his gruffness—but, there was also the fifty percent chance that she would have a boy, and with that came a certain level of expectation.

“Are we ready to have a look?”

Nodding, Lauren took a seat on the couch and stretched out, pulling her shirt up as Dr. Springer’s assistant came over with a tube of gel and liberally squeezed a good amount along the lower half of her stomach.

Mishca sat on the arm of the couch behind her head, his hand curling around her own, offering his silent support. If there was one thing she could count on despite the tension that plagued them over the last few weeks, he was always there when she needed him.

Lauren looked to the monitor, waiting as the picture became clearer, the black and white grainy image now showing the baby. She smiled, a genuine one this time. This, all of it, was real.

And very soon, she was going to be a mother.

She squeezed Mishca’s hand, ready to ask the one question she’d thought on for the last couple of weeks, one that had plagued her until this very day. “Can we know the sex of the baby?”

She’d been far enough along during the last two appointments to learn whether she was having a boy or a girl, but she’d put it off. At first because she had wanted it to be a surprise when she delivered, but she’d become too impatient for that.

Now, it was time.

Now, they were ready.

Dr. Springer nodded obligingly, moving the wand over her stomach as she looked up at the screen until finally pointing to something Lauren couldn’t make out. “You’re having a boy.”

Mishca’s reaction was swift and resolute, and the look of absolute pride made her smile. That adoration in his eyes—the look of pure happiness—erased every hurt feeling she’d had over the last few weeks. It wasn’t as if she had any control over what the baby would be, but his expression made her feel like she did, and she was more than a little happy that she had put that look there.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to the top of her head, whispering words she couldn’t hear, but from the reverent way in which he touched her, she could guess what he was saying.

More than anything, he was pleased.

Dr. Springer left soon after, and when it was just the pair of them again, Mishca wasted no time leading her back into their bedroom. He left her sitting on the bed, disappearing into the bathroom for a short while.

The sound of running water made her frown, but he was back before she could question it, his hand extended to her. He stripped her out of her clothes, something he’d long been good at.

After he got rid of his own, he stepped into the clawfoot tub, helping her, though she didn’t need it, in after her. She settled between his legs, resting her head back against his chest. This was one of the most beautiful things about being married—she got to enjoy the quiet with someone she loved.

Well … two someones she loved.

Resting his hand against the curve of her stomach, his tone was thoughtful as he said, “I haven’t done right by you, and for that, I’m sorry.”

“Mish—”

“Let me finish.” His thumb stroked over her skin, his palm seeming hotter than the water they sat in. “In regards to you, I should have handled things differently. I know that both Alex and Valon are—”

“Luka,” she said on a sigh. “To me, he’s always been Luka.”

Without argument, he conceded. “I know that both Alex and Luka are important to you. You shouldn’t have been forced to see what happened.”

He would never apologize for what happened, not really, but this was close enough.

“I made a promise to you they day you agreed to marry me, I don’t intend to go back on that now.”

She smiled, touched by his words. Wryly, she said, “You also got shot that day.”

“Ah, just so.” His lips fell to her neck, brushing light kisses up and along her jaw. “I love you, Lauren. More than anything in this world.”

“I love you too, Mish.”

“I want to make you another promise.”

“Oh?”

She twisted around to see him better. “I was never given a chance to choose when it came to this life. The legacy that I stepped into was given to me at birth. I’ve always known what was expected of me and what my life would become, and I know that while you stand beside me, you won’t always agree with the choice I make. But for you, I’ll give him something my father never gave me—a choice. He can either join this life, or reject it, and I won’t sway his decision either way, but know,” he said as a serious note crept into his voice, “if the Bratva is what he wants, I’ll welcome him.”

She should have been terrified by that thought … but she wasn’t. He was right. The thought of her son becoming a part of the Bratva did scare her, but beyond that fear was the trust she had in Mishca.

“Thanks, Mish.” She kissed the underside of his jaw.

“All is forgiven then?” No sooner had he asked the question, his hand was slipping down her stomach and between her legs.

With a breathless laugh, she nodded. “All is forgiven.”

* * *

Mishca wasn’t sleeping, not really.

Though he’d tried to avoid it, the stress of his work had managed to creep its way home with him. Once, he had been able to keep a clear divide between the Bratva and Lauren, not wanting the two to intermix, but that divide was blurring.

He didn’t mind the sleepless nights, the constant work until he was too exhausted to move, or even the nights when he had to do things Lauren wouldn’t be proud of, but that came with the territory of being a mob boss. This was his life.

But what he didn’t like was how it was slowly affecting Lauren. Now, while he spent the first couple of hours after he’d come home in the office awake and thinking, Lauren would wander around the house, just as restless as he felt. It was only when he came to bed and tucked her into his side, his hand spanning out over her stomach did she settle enough to fall asleep. Always, only minutes later, he would slip into dreams as well.

She was his happy place, always had been.

Tonight had been no different as he had stripped his clothes, washing the night away before joining her in bed. She had been out almost immediately, leaving him to enjoy the silence of the room and just the way it felt to be next to her.

Eventually— he wasn’t sure when—he had drifted off, but what felt like minutes later—though it had been a few hours—Lauren yelled his name, jerking him out of his sleep. He was reaching for the gun he kept in his nightstand before he could even register what was happening.

“Mish!”

He turned in Lauren’s direction, finally getting a grasp on the anxiety he heard in her voice. Where she was laying, the bed was soaked. Inside, he was freaking out, his heart tripling in speed as he gazed down at the evidence that everything in their lives was about to change … again. They were supposed to have another three weeks, but apparently, the baby was ready now.

Her water had broke …

Mishca only allowed himself a second, just one, to be overwhelmed, but then he shut those feelings of fear down and got to work. He leaned towards her, cupping her face as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I’ve got this.”

He was out of the bed in seconds, grabbing his phone as he hurried into the closet to throw on some clothes, grabbing something for Lauren as well. She was a planner, liked to have things ready in case of an emergency, so despite the baby being early, she had already packed a bag with the essentials.

The phone to his ear as he dialed Dr. Springer, Mishca exited the closet, helping Lauren dress though she complained that she could do it herself, but as the answering machine picked up, the recorded message playing, he froze, listening to the woman’s words.

“Shit.”

“What's wrong?”

He didn't answer, not right away. He was already moving onto plan B, calling in a favor to a man that owed him plenty.

“Jesus, Volkov. It’s three in the morning.”

“Lauren is in labor. I need you ready within the hour.”

The man was silent for a beat. “Do you understand how much equipment and prep work is involved in—”

“There’s fifty-thousand dollars extra if you shut the fuck up and get it done.”

Wisely, the man rattled off an address, Mishca hanging up after.

“Who was that?” Lauren asked quietly as Mishca ushered her into the elevator, pressing the button next to lobby.

He figured she would know eventually… “The important thing is for you to remain calm.”

“Of course I’m calm. Why wouldn’t I be calm?” She sounded anything but. “Tell me.”

“Dr. Springer is out of the country for a few days. She’ll be back on Monday.”

The look of shock that crossed Lauren’s face was there for a split second before it shifted to confusion. “But the baby—”

“I’ve got it taken care of,” he reassured her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer. “It’s all going to be fine.”

“Right. Because you called another doctor. Wait … what doctor did you call?”

He could see it, that rising panic in her face. “Lauren, breathe.”

“I’m not having our baby in a warehouse, Mishca!” She screamed as she pushed away from him, though she immediately winced, hands going to her belly as she rubbed, trying to soothe their little one. “I think I’m contracting.”

“Just stay calm. Everything will be fine, the good doctor—”

She fisted the front of his shirt, and with a strength he hadn’t thought possible, she pulled him down so they were eye level. “Not. In. A. Warehouse.”

He nodded, just a bit afraid of what she would do next. If she weren’t glaring at him, even with the pain he knew she was feeling, he might have smiled.”You have my word.”

Lauren nodded once, releasing him as the doors opened. One of his men was already waiting by the car, a cigarette in his hand as he sucked in a deep pull, but seeing the pair of them, he quickly tossed it as far as he could—Mishca might have threatened anyone that smoked around her—blowing out the smoke and waving his hand to clear it before Lauren had made it to him. Smart man.

Giving him the address, Mishca helped Lauren into the backseat, climbing in behind her. Between the time it took to pull off and their arrival at the brownstone building that had been recently renovated, Lauren’s contractions had grown worse, and closer together. Up until this point, he had been able to hold himself together for her sake, but seeing the pain she was in slowly chipped away at that armor. If he could take this pain from her, he would.

Helping Lauren out, Mishca then tossed his phone to his man, giving him clear instructions. “Hit ‘2’, give him the address.”

“Is that all you want me to say? Should I say the message is from you?”

“Trust me. He’ll know who and why. Just see it done.”

A woman wearing scrubs met them at the door, offering Lauren a helping hand as they headed inside. If he’d been able, he would have rented out the floor of a hospital, but there was not enough money in the world that would prevent at least one person from talking, and the last thing he needed was a broadcast that Lauren was having their baby. He was already racked with continuous thoughts on the enemies that would try and hurt his family to get to him, he didn’t need to add to it.

Dr. Roger Quinn was waiting, not a hair out of place though he had to have just woken  not even an hour ago. While the older man might not have had any longstanding debts with the Bratva, he still had a predilection for high priced call girls, not to mention the four ex-wives he was currently paying alimony to. So if Mishca called for something in the middle of the night, he was inclined to offer his services.

“Check her vitals,” he said to the nurse. “Get an IV started. Lauren? I’m Dr. Roger Quinn, your husband has told me so much about you.”—he had told him nothing besides her name and the fact that she was pregnant— “Can you tell me if the contractions are close together or far apart?”

Lauren took a deep breath, still squeezing Mishca’s hand so tightly they’d gone white. “Close.”

As Dr. Quinn and the nurse got her situated, Mishca felt his anxiety creeping back in. This was actually happening. They were having a baby.

“Take a breath.”

Mishca was too relieved to hear his voice to be annoyed that he had managed to sneak up on him. If there was one person that could move about silently, it was Klaus.

Five months ago, back when Lauren had first learned she was pregnant, Klaus had been one of the first to know. His response had been…typical for him, but as the months waned on, his outlook had shifted. Soon his questions had shifted from how Lauren was doing to how the baby was doing. It was clear that he cared, and Mishca had a sneaking suspicion as to why, but he had yet to speak on this with his brother. The timing had never been right.

Drawing air deep into his lungs, Mishca did as he said. Already, the thick emotion that was constricting his chest loosened a bit.

Niklaus glanced over at him, his gaze searching his face before he finally asked, “Can you handle this?”

The question was laughable really. There was blood on his hands, not just because of lives he had taken, but also from the work he did in general. And yet, he felt like he was about to pass out just because his wife was about to give birth. Shit, he was definitely losing it.

“Yes,” he finally responded, even if he didn’t fully believe that, but it wasn’t like he had a choice in the matter.

When Lauren’s groans carried from the room she was in, Mishca started forward, but hesitated. “Thanks … for coming.”

Niklaus shrugged, glancing away. “Even I can call a truce for a night.”

By the time he got in the room, Lauren was bare from the waist down, her feet up in stirrups as Dr. Quinn sat in front of her, gaze riveted to her…was that the baby?

Before Mishca could get close enough to see, the nurse—whose name he still hadn’t bothered to find out—intercepted him, walking him into an adjacent room to get him sterilized and covered before they reentered.

He was at Lauren’s side in seconds, slipping his hand around hers as he brushed the strands of her hair off her damp forehead.

“God, this is all your fault!” She said between clenched teeth, taking in shallow breaths as she squeezed his hand again.

It took everything in him not to smile at the fury he heard in her words. “I love you, Lauren. So much.” He’d mistakenly thought those words would help.

“I know! It was your love that got us here in the first place!”

“Okay, Lauren,” Dr. Quinn spoke up. “It’s time to push.”

And so it began.

As she bore down, she squeezed his hand, making him believe that by the of this, he would never write again, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to give if that meant helping her through this. He tried to remember everything he had read, how best to comfort her, but all of it flew out of his head as he chanced a look down, just seeing his boy’s head emerge.

Now, he thought, if Lauren weren’t clutching his hand, he might have passed out.

At this point, Lauren was screaming, bearing down with everything she was as Mishca whispered the same words over and over again against her damp hair.

I love you.

And only when the first, sharp cry rent the air and Lauren sagged back in relief did Mishca look up, and cradled in Dr. Quinn’s arms, shrieking his little lungs out was their baby boy.

Sacha Cameron Volkov.