Lyov
“Well, congratulations are in order, Mr. Ivanshov. You are now the proud owner of a new hotel chain. How do you feel?” Isaak smirked as he brought his glass of scotch to his lips.
I flipped him the finger before taking a long drink from my own glass. I thought of all the things that had happened the past few months.
Just like I had promised my Angel, The Royalist had been shut down. Valentin gave me shit. Carlos didn’t let go easily either.
It was a hard, dangerous game to play.
“You can’t do that, Lyov,” Valentin snarled.
“I can and I will. Watch me,” I replied with the same steady cold voice. There was no room for argument. Solonik bristled at my tone, and I saw him wanting to end me, right then and there. His fingers were probably itching to take his gun out and pull the trigger, a bullet right through my heart.
But he was a pathetic man.
He knew he stood no chance.
He knew killing me would only bring war upon all of us. And there was no guarantee he would make it out.
That was why he never could become the Pakhan. The Bratva needed someone, a kingpin, without fear or weakness.
You see, Valentin Solonik was a coward. He was scared of death. He was scared of losing.
And lastly, he preyed on the weak—because he was never strong enough to fight someone more powerful than him. Me.
“Lyov.” Carlos jumped in. His thick accent was laced with fury. God, how he must be dying to end my life too.
They couldn’t, though. My men had their hands on their guns. They were alert. Solonik’s men were ready too. Carlos’s men were not far. But I had them all surrounded. If we started firing now, none of us would make it out alive. And today was not the day to die.
“Do you realize what you’re doing? How this could affect us?” Carlos spoke in a low, menacing tone.
I shrugged. Carlos was not a man to mess with.
If I were the King, then he was no less. He was not a man to mess with. Carlos ruled the Mexican Cartel with an iron fist, and nobody could bring down his organization. Not even me. Not that I ever tried.
It was an unspoken truce. I let him do his own shit, and he let me do mine. As long as we didn’t fuck each other behind our backs, then we had no problem.
“The Royalist is mine. Yes, I agree, you are my business associates, and you have invested a lot into this organization. Like I said, if the problem is money—then I will have it all deposited into your account. Count it as my agreement of peace. After all, we don’t want to be enemies, am I right?” Carlos stayed silent. He knew we couldn’t afford to be enemies. He regarded me with questioning cold eyes, waiting for me to continue.
“We part ways from here, and we shall never cross paths again. You do what you want. Run your businesses how you want and I rule the Bratva how I want. But The Royalist is coming to an end. That is not up for discussion, gentlemen.”
Carlos lifted his chin up in angry defiance. “Fine. You do whatever the fuck you want. Take down the Royalist for all I care. You seem to forget that I own my own rings—my own fucking arena. I am not the one losing here, Lyov. You are.”
Touché, asshole.
I nodded. I knew that. I knew there were more human trafficking rings around the world and Carlos ran the biggest one after the Royalist. I also knew that this one was beyond my control. I could end the game from my side…but I had no power when it was being played from the other side.
We stared at each other until Carlos’s lips curled back angrily. “I have nothing else to say.”
I nodded again. “I guess this meeting ends here.”
Valentin looked livid, but he stayed silent. His dark eyes tracked my every move, and I knew he was a man not to be trusted. We might be from the same cloth, Russian, in the same brotherhood—but when it came to power and money, he would do anything. Even stab his own in the back.
I also didn’t have to go far to know that when push came to shove, Valentin would extend his loyalty to Carlos instead of me.
Valentin’s hands balled into fists at his side. His glare was made to kill. Too bad for him, I had thick skin and thick bones.
I liked to say I was…indestructible.
“Until next time,” I said casually with a nod into their directions.
That was all that was left to say, and with it as my final word, I walked away. I wasn’t scared of being stabbed in the back, though. I had my men with me, behind me, beside me—in front of me.
No one could kill the brain behind the game. The Master of it all.
Long live the fucking King.
Isaak brought me back to the present. I focused on him again. He tsked and raised an eyebrow mockingly. “You need to get laid. What’s wrong? Haven’t been getting it lately? I thought pregnant women want it all the time. Here I thought Maria would have tired you out.”
“You’re pissing me off now,” I growled.
He shrugged. “When am I not pissing you off is the question.”
Boris tried to hide his chuckle behind his fist. At my glare, he replaced it with a cough and looked everywhere in the room except at me. Assholes.
“Maria should be giving birth soon, and she’s been sick lately.” I finally admitted my silent fears. Isaak and Boris lost their teasing look, and both harboured serious expression at my words. They knew how difficult Maria’s last trimester had been. She’d been on bedrest for the last three weeks, and she’d grown progressively weaker.
I hated seeing her like this. Her skin pale and her small body curled up, so fragile and vulnerable. Maria had also lost the weight she had put on since I saved her from that living nightmare.
Fuck. I just wanted this to be over—soon—with both my Angel and my baby safe in my arms.
With a sigh, I started to get up. I chucked the rest of my drink down my throat, letting it burn and making me feel alive at the same time. “Let’s call it a night. Maria must be waiting for me.”
Isaak nodded and got up too. He clasped me on the back. “It will be okay. She’s stronger than you think.”
I knew she was. My Angel was so goddamn strong that she left me in awe every day. And this reason right here was why I was suddenly desperate to hold her in my arms. It had been a long day away from my wife.
Just when I was about to reach the door, it banged open, and I was forced to take a step back. Lena appeared in the doorway of my office, completely winded and a look of panic on her face. My blood instantly ran cold, and I lurched forward, pushing past her and running out of the office.
Lena was quick and followed me by my heels. She was out of breath as she spoke. “Maria is in labor. I found her in bed, and it looks bad. She is…bleeding.”
Her last word was choked out.
“Did you call the doctor?” I snapped. Fuck, I was going to lose it.
Lena nodded just as I reached my bedroom. I slammed the door open and found my Angel on the floor, curled up by the bed, whimpering. My heart sunk, and I was suddenly overwhelmed with a horrible sense of dread.
Maria moaned in pain, and I fucking lost it. Right then and there.
“Where is the fucking doctor?” I snarled at Lena. “Why is she taking so long?”
She didn’t even flinch. I didn’t waste her a second glance before sinking to my knees in front of my Angel and curling my arms around her body. I cradled her in my embrace. Standing up with her held closely against my chest, I put her on the bed. Lena threw the bedsheets away and settled the pillows comfortably behind Maria.
She moaned something under her breath before crying out. Her face was ashen, and her tears were my undoing. Maria gripped my hand, and she squeezed, rather strongly in her weak state. My breath left in a loud whoosh, and I wanted nothing more than to comfort her and take my Angel’s pain away. But for the first fucking time in my life, I was clueless and utterly helpless as I watched her cry out in agony.
Huge sobs racked through her body, and she begged. Begged for me to make it stop. Begged for me to save our baby. “Please, Lyov. It hurts…”
“I know, Angel,” I soothed, leaning over her body and placing a kiss on her sweaty forehead. I pinched my eyes closed, trying to breathe through my clenching, burning lungs. But it was so fucking hard. It hurt. I was hurting.
I fought down the panic and forced down the terror. It was a torrent of unmasked emotions, and I had absolutely no idea how to feel or control them.
“I can’t…lose…our baby,” she whimpered through each labored breath.
My heart pounded, and I fought the urge to throw up. “You won’t. Nothing is going to happen to either of you. I won’t allow it.”
My eyes drifted to her legs, and I could see the blood pooling between them, drenching the bedsheet underneath her. Why was she bleeding so much?
I stared up at Lena, as if taking some kind of courage from her—but she looked helpless herself.
“It will…be okay,” I breathed, trying to convince all of us. But it didn’t seem like it would be. It was at that moment that I started second guessing everything in my fucked-up life.
Dangerous thoughts bloomed in my mind, pushing me over the edge of insanity. I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that I was the one who got her pregnant…I was somehow responsible for my Angel’s state of pain. It was stupid to think so, but the blame was heavy on my shoulders.
Finally, the midwife appeared, running into the room, looking out of breath. I felt the urge to claw at her perfectly put together, stupid face and tear her eyes and tongue out. She was supposed to be here. With Maria. Always at her side. But she wasn’t when my Angel needed her the most.
Her frightened eyes met mine, and she knew she fucked up. Without wasting any time, she came to the bed. I closed my eyes, trying to tone down the alarm rising in my chest.
The midwife swore, and I heard her giving orders, asking for towels and a basin of water. I tuned her out, refusing to listen to any words around me. I could only focus on my Angel’s whimpers and moans of pain.
I held her hand as her cries tore through my heart and split open my soul. Fear rippled through me at the thought of losing my Maria now. I wouldn’t survive it. Not when she was so deeply ingrained inside my soul, rooted underneath my beating heart, and was there to stay.
Maria gasped out loud, and my eyes shot open. She tried to struggle into a sitting position, her hands flying to her stomach as she screamed.
“What’s wrong? What’s wrong with her?” I asked urgently to anyone in the room. My arms curled around Maria as I tried to soothe her in any way I could. “Do something,” I finally pleaded to the midwife.
I didn’t know how much time had passed. All I knew was that Maria’s pain hadn’t lessened. I couldn’t stop touching my Angel. Her skin was hot and feverish, and her body wouldn’t stop shaking. With each horrible contraction, she cried out in agony. Her small body was giving way, and I could tell she was growing weaker.
The midwife had ordered me to move behind Maria, supporting the upper half of her body in the cradle of my arms. She said it would be easier for Maria to push in this position. My Angel leaned heavily into my chest, her head rolling back against my shoulders. Maria’s breath came out jerky. “…hurts.”
I hated how small her voice sounded. Wounded and agonized.
My lips feathered over her cheek, and I placed a soft kiss there. She hiccupped back a sob. I brushed her hair behind her face and watched her blink her bright blue eyes open. They met mine, and I was ensnared once again.
Maria bit on her lips hard at another contraction, and I pulled them apart from her teeth. “You are hurting yourself, Angel.”
“I can see the head. I just need you to push one more time, Maria,” the midwife announced from between Maria’s legs.
She nodded weakly against my neck. The next time her contraction hit, she screamed, and I saw her stomach ripple. My arms tightened around her quaking body as I supported her from behind.
“There you go. One more push,” the midwife continued.
“You got this, Angel. Our baby is going to be okay. We’re going to be okay. I love you,” I whispered in her ears.
Another contraction. Another painful scream. Another push.
And then silence.
Maria stopped screaming. My heart stopped beating. The roar of my blood rushing through my ears stopped. Everything was eerily…silent.
Until…
“It’s a boy.”
My heart soared. Maria sighed and dropped her head back on my shoulders, but I saw a whisper of a smile on her lips.
“Alessio,” she muttered tiredly. I nodded in response, finding it hard to speak.
I kissed her lips, and she kissed me back, sweetly.
There was a commotion. Far away, I could hear the midwife asking to clip the umbilical cord.
A few minutes later, Maria and I heard something that made us pull apart.
“Why is he not crying?” Lena asked quietly from her position beside Maria.
I raised my head up and stared at the woman holding my son. She swallowed hard and gave a slight shake of her head. Maria let out a wail of sorrow.
I froze. My heart stuttered, and I could only stare.
“Do you want to hold him?” the midwife murmured.
Maria opened her arms, and our son was placed on her chest. She continued to cry softly, holding our unmoving baby. The midwife went between Maria’s legs again. She said something about stopping the bleeding. Maria flinched, and my arms tightened around her.
My throat closed, and all words were lost from me.
I watched as Maria opened her nightgown and then laid him on her chest, skin on skin. She turned her face into my neck and cried.
My palm pressed against the baby’s back. His skin was slightly cold, and I cradled both my wife and son in my arms. Maria looked down at him and softly, she started singing a Russian lullaby she had learned at the abbey in a low, melodic voice. Every night, while she was pregnant, she sang it to our baby.
My eyes focused on our son, and that was when I noticed it.
The rise and fall of his little chest.
My breath froze, and my eyes widened. I squeezed Maria’s hand where our fingers were entwined. I breathed out a single word. “Angel.”
She stopped singing, and she noticed it too.
And then we saw it.
The smallest movement. Just a twitch of his little fingers that rested on his mother’s breast.
“Lyov. He’s moving.”
Things happened fast then.
Alessio was taken away from us. The midwife examined him, and I saw her rubbing his back continuously, with small little taps.
And then he cried.
A loud, piercing wail that let us all know he was alive and very much breathing. His presence was loud and strong. Alessio Lyov Ivanshov.
He was cleaned and then swaddled before he was brought back to us. Maria’s bleeding had also stopped by then, and Lena had helped clean her up. She left the room afterward, after tearfully kissing Maria’s forehead. “You did so good, sweetheart. I will give you three some time alone. And then it’s my time with the baby boy,” she said before pulling away and smiling down at Maria and me.
After Alessio was placed in Maria’s arms again, I could have screamed in joy, but I fought it down. I was still holding my Angel, and now she was holding our baby. They were both delicate.
“He is so beautiful.”
And that he was.
I leaned down and kissed his forehead. “You gave us all a scare. That was one hell of an entrance, Alessio,” I said against his now warm skin. He hiccupped in response. His face twisted. His little hands balled into tiny fists, and then he bellowed loudly, almost angrily.
I couldn’t help but laugh. This. This right here was…happiness.
“He is your son, after all,” Maria sighed dreamily. “You Ivanshov men never do anything the easy way. Always dramatic. Always hungry for attention.”
I kissed my Angel’s lips next. “You were perfect. Thank you for giving me a son.”
She hummed in response. “Thank you. For not letting me go. It was your strength that made me go through this without giving up, Lyov. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”
“You will never have to do anything without me. We will always be together, Angel.”
A vow was made. I never broke my vows.
They were always made with blood. But this time, it was made from the depth of my heart.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”