by Lylah James
“Have you thought of a name?” he asked.
I smiled at that. “Yes.”
He tried to wait patiently, and I couldn’t hide my giggle when he growled at my long silence.
“If it’s a girl, I think…Sophia,” I murmured. My heart ached at the whispered name. Sophia. My beautiful Sophia. If I had a daughter, then I would believe the higher powers had returned my princess to me.
“It’s a beautiful name, Angel. I love it,” Lyov agreed. His arm grew tighter around me, and I melted into his embrace. “And if it’s a boy?”
“I was thinking…”
“Maria. Stop doing that. Just tell me. I’m kind of dying to know our son’s name.”
Turning around in his arms, I faced Lyov on the bed. We were on our sides, in the dark, awaiting sleep. I loved this. Our moments. Our late night talks.
My fingers traced his hard jaw and then his lips. He kissed my fingertips in response.
“Alessio,” I whispered. “Our son’s name will be Alessio.”
That name, too, had a meaning.
Lyov wasn’t silent for a minute. He stared into my eyes, and I could see the wheels turning in his head. “Do you not like the name?” I asked, feeling anxious that he would say no to my choice. Although by now, I knew that was impossible. Lyov could never say no to me.
“No. I like it. It’s a very appealing name.”
“But you don’t seem to like it. I can tell.”
He shook his head. His thumb caressed my cheek as he tried to soothe me and erase my worry. “I have no problem with it, Angel. I am just thinking what the Family would think. Alessio is an Italian name.”
“Is that what you’re worried about? Because it’s not a Russian name?”
Lyov tried to shrug nonchalantly, but I pressed on. “Alessio means defender. It is a strong name, with an even stronger and more beautiful meaning behind it.”
His lips twitched at my passionate response, and I lifted my chin up in defiance. “Then tell me about it, Angel. Tell me the meaning,” he demanded softly into the darkness.
“There was a young boy at the abbey. He was only twelve. His name was Alessio. One of the helpers there, she ran away with her son from an abusive marriage. They found sanctuary at the abbey and helped us there. But he was sick.”
I paused at the memory. He was a sweet boy. Always ready to help. Always so nice and respectful. I still remembered the day we found out he didn’t have long to live. I still remembered his mother’s cries and then her anguished wail when he took his last breath, surrounded by all of us.
“He didn’t make it,” I murmured with a shiver of pain. My body pressed closer to Lyov, seeking comfort against the assaulting memories. “He was so strong, Lyov. He fought so hard. He didn’t want to die, didn’t want to leave his mother alone. He was so mature at such a very young age.”
Lyov’s arms curled around me, and he pressed a kiss on my forehead, his lips lingering there sweetly. “That’s why I want to honor him. The same way I would like to honor Sophia’s memories one day if we have a daughter. They both deserve it.”
Lyov cleared his throat before finally speaking. “We will name our son Alessio.” He paused for a second before continuing. “I love it.”
My heart soared, and I stared up at him in surprise. “Really?”
He raised an eyebrow in a mocking question. “Have I ever refused you anything?”
I bit on my lips, trying to hide my smile, but it was impossible. With Lyov, I couldn’t hide my happiness, because he made me happy every day. “No. You have never. Thank you, Lyov.”
His lips met mine in a soft kiss, and I sighed almost dreamily. He pushed his tongue past my parted lips, and he kissed me in a way that drove me crazy. I returned his kiss with the same fervor, my tongue dancing and mating sweetly, almost lovingly. I moaned into his mouth as we pulled away.
“Don’t ever thank me for loving you and for giving you everything you deserve, Angel.” His rough voice was hoarse with emotions. His feelings—all his love for me—was clear in his gaze. His once unreadable icy grey eyes were now filled with so many unsaid emotions, with so much warmth and adoration that it left me breathless sometimes.
How did he do it? Leave me flushed and my stomach fluttering with just a look. My heart would do a pitter-patter dance every time I was in Lyov’s presence.
“My name means Lion. I am a hunter. I like to possess and own things until they are solely mine. But I am also the protector of my pride, Angel. It’s deeply ingrained in me. It means I protect those I love. That also means I am your protector because I happen to love you very much. Fuck, I more than just love you. Love is a weak word to describe what I feel for you. I am yours as much as you are mine. When I made you mine, I promised that you will never lack anything. There are no limits on the hell I would walk through to make sure you are always smiling…always happy. Do you understand that, Maria?”
There we go again. That pitter-patter dance was back, and my heart clenched. Tears stung my eyes, and I quickly blinked them away.
For months, I had been holding fear in a corner of my soul. Fear that this would be ripped away from me. I panicked at the thought of this only being a dream and I would wake up in a cage again—back into the dark hole where I had ceased to exist, where I had only been breathing. Not living.
I cupped Lyov’s face in my hands. “What did I do to deserve you?”
“I ask myself the same question every day, Angel. Pretty ironic, isn’t it?” He laughed with a slight shake of his head.
I found myself smiling too. There was a kick between us, where our bodies were pressed together. It appeared the little one was demanding our attention again.
“There, there. It’s time for you to sleep now,” Lyov chastised gently, his palm finding its way to my round, rigid stomach again.
After a few seconds of dancing and moving around, the baby finally settled down. My eyes also started to droop, tiredness seeping its way into me.
“Alessio Lyov Ivanshov,” Lyov whispered. “A strong name for a future King.”
My lips parted, and I wanted to agree, but sleep took me under.
That night, I dreamed of a baby boy. He had blue eyes, like mine. But Lyov’s smile and nose. I dreamed of holding him. And I dreamed of Lyov holding us.
It was perfect. It felt real.
And that was how I knew…my first born would be a son.
And his name would be Alessio Lyov Ivanshov.
Chapter 19
Maria
Lyov left early this morning with Boris and Isaak. Business. Work. The Clubs. I never asked for clarification. Partly because I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want the gruesome details of that side of Lyov’s life. I knew what he did and how cruel he was in the position as the Pakhan. He built his empire of blood and the brutality that came with it. It was all dirty money.
But now he was expanding his empire. The human trafficking rings had been shut down after great difficulty. Lyov was scared that this would bring war upon our grounds. But they solved it rather peacefully after everyone realized Lyov wouldn’t budge on the matter and there was no point in fighting him. He was the Master. The ruler. The King. The game belonged to Lyov Ivanshov and only him. His words were law, and everyone bent to it.
The Royalist was no longer active. It died the night I sobbed for my Sophia in Lyov’s embrace.
Now, Lyov was investing into other means. He promised me it would be safe, and I trusted him. He was a wealthy man. Powerful beyond words. Nothing was impossible for him.
My thoughts returned to the present when I stopped in front of Lena’s door. I knocked and waited for her reply. We decided to go baby shopping today. Feeling excitement coursing through me, I waited almost impatiently, bouncing on my tippy toes.
A minute passed, and there was no response. I knocked again and called out. Leaning into the door, I pressed my ear there and tried to listen for anything on the other side. Silence.
But I knew Le
na was in there because she was nowhere else.
Grabbing the handle, I twisted it around to check. It was unlocked, and the door opened. Uneasiness crept its way into my body, and my stomach twisted with a strange feeling.
I walked inside and paused on the room’s threshold.
Something wasn’t right.
The room was tidy, with bright sunlight soaking in the wide span of it. It was a deceitful look because the atmosphere in the room felt all wrong.
“Lena,” I called out.
There was another few seconds of silence. My palms grew sweaty, and I hated this feeling brewing inside of me, a silent storm fighting to break free. My stomach tightened, and my happy baby stopped moving, as if the little one could tell something was wrong too. I cradled my bump, soothing both of us.
“Lena,” I said again, looking around the room. “It’s Maria. Are you okay?”
There was more silence.
Until I heard a whimper.
And then a sob.
It was pained, and my lungs clenched. I suddenly felt cold.
I followed the sound and realized it was coming from the bathroom. I moved through the room and opened the door.
The sight almost brought me to my knees. A small gasp escaped past my lips when I saw Lena curled on the floor, next to the toilet, whimpering and crying in pain.
Her eyes met mine, and they were filled with anguish. My heart dropped to my stomach, and I felt a cramp there. I could feel Lena’s pain, and I quickly waddled over to her.
With some maneuvering, I finally knelt down by her side. I reached out to touch her, but she flinched and then let out another choked sob. My eyes scanned down the length over her body before pausing on her flat stomach.
My throat went dry, and my tongue felt heavy when I tried to speak.
“It hurts,” she whispered through a scratchy throat. Her voice was almost unrecognizable. Gone was the happy, chirpy girl. In its place was a fragile, broken woman, crying out her loss.
My gaze fell on the blood that had pooled by her side. “Oh, Lena.” I closed my eyes. My chest seized, and it hurt when I realized the meaning of this situation.
Shaking my head, I swallowed against my dry throat and opened my eyes. I needed to be strong for Lena.
“You need to get up. We’ll go to the doctor. Nothing will happen. It will be okay, Lena.” I grabbed her arm, trying to pull her up. She didn’t budge. Instead, she curled more into her body, as if wanting to hide from everything. “Please, Lena,” I begged.
She let out another whimper, and her sniffles filled the bathroom. Her hand went to her stomach, her fingers curling tightly around the fabric of her dress.
“It’s…too…late.”
“No. Don’t say that!” I pulled at her again, feeling panicked.
“…too late,” she whispered, closing her eyes.
Her dress had ridden up, and I could see blood coating her inner thighs. It appeared as if there were blood clots, a lumpy-looking thing between her legs, on the floor.
Bringing a hand up to my mouth, I tried to stop my choked cry. There was too much bleeding. And I knew she was right. It was too late.
We were both so happy last night, when we found out she was pregnant. We were going to be mothers together. Lena couldn’t stop chatting about it…our babies.
She had meant to tell Boris the good news today.
“It hurts. So much.”
Her broken words felt like lashes against my soul. “I didn’t…have…a chance to tell…Boris. He was…going to be a…father.”
My mind raced. My heart ached. I didn’t know how to console Lena. I wished I had the proper words, but nothing could be said to lessen a mother’s pain at losing her baby.
So I sat against the wall. I gripped one of her hands in mine, while the other stayed on her stomach. Giving Lena a gentle squeeze, I tried to comfort and soothe her with my touch. I thought of going to call Boris. She needed him at a time like this, but I also didn’t want to leave her alone. When I tried to move, her hand wouldn’t let me go. She made the decision for me.
Lena continued to cry until her tears turned silent. I thought maybe hours passed. Or was it just minutes? I couldn’t tell. I lost track of time. It was tormenting to feel my baby’s kick.
Eventually, I moved away from the wall and knelt next to Lena’s head again. Touching her sweaty forehead, I tucked her hair away from her face and caressed her cheeks.
“Lena. You need to get up. We need to clean you up. Please,” I said quietly.
She opened her eyes and stared into mine. Hers were dark—a mask of misery. Her lips parted as if she wanted to speak, but then she closed her mouth again. Silence.
I didn’t say anything either, because words weren’t needed. In fact, speaking hurt more than the silence around us.
Lena winced when she moved. I helped her into a sitting position, and her gaze went to the blood on her dress. Her expression turned bleak, and then she shuddered. With my help, she stood up on wobbly legs.
When I was sure she could stand while leaning against the wall, I took a step away and went to turn the shower on. I let it run, warming up the water to a temperature I knew Lena might like. I went back to her, where she was still standing, unmoving. Her arms laid limply at her sides as she just stared at the floor. I avoided the small pool of blood and stopped in front of her quaking body.
She let me help her undress until she was just in her panties and her bra. Lena’s chin wobbled, and I could tell she was about to cry again. I knew the pain wasn’t just emotional but physical too. I kept a firm grip on her arm and walked her into the shower. When she was under the cascading water, I took a few steps back, giving her privacy. I even turned around. “Do you want me to leave?”
Lena didn’t answer, and I kept my back to her. After picking a new towel and a pair of underwear from her bathroom drawers, I placed them on the counter. There was still no sound except the water running.
I took a peek over my shoulders to see Lena standing still under the water, staring into the distance. She still hadn’t moved from the position I left her. My shoulders slumped, and I took a deep breath, trying to ease the ache in my chest.
My feet took me forward, and then I stopped. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to help, but I was scared it wouldn’t be welcome. And then I wasn’t sure how to help.
Lena wrapped her arms around herself as her small body trembled. Seeing her so fragile, so vulnerable, I made my decision without thinking twice. She needed me now, more than ever.
My dress pooled at my feet as I quickly disrobed. I left my underwear on and joined Lena in the shower. She barely acknowledged me until I touched her hands and tried to uncurl her arms from around her waist. Lena grimaced, and then she whimpered.
Her eyes met mine. “Maria.” Her whisper was strained and hoarse, coming out from deep within her. I saw a hint of relief there, when she realized she wasn’t totally alone.
We didn’t speak as I lathered up her body and hair. She let me help her as I massaged her scalp. Her eyes closed, and she sighed, her body relaxing the slightest bit. That was enough for me.
After washing away the soap and shampoo, I let the warm water cascade around her. Lena breathed a long, deep breath, and she finally opened her eyes. Her hands gripped mine tightly, as if she was scared I would let go. But I didn’t plan on doing so, ever.
Lena and I, we were a team. It had been like that since the very beginning—the first day we met and she decided we would be best friends. There was no separating us.
I pulled her out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her body. She shivered as I scrubbed her dry and then helped her into one of Boris’s shirts and her pants. I did the same with myself, pulling on my dress again. We left the bathroom together, without sparing the pool of blood another glance. My throat felt heavy with a lump again.
The door closed behind us, and I helped Lena onto the bed. I went to kneel behind her on the mattress and combed through he
r wet hair until every single strand was untangled. She then laid down, and I joined her, pulling the comforter over us.
“Thank you,” she croaked. Two simple words that meant a thousand things between us.
In response, I hugged her close, and she curled into me. “Thank you,” she said again in my chest. Lena softly cried herself to sleep, and my tears fell down my cheeks silently. I rocked her gently until I knew she was asleep.
I am here, Lena. It will be okay.
One day soon, our babies would play together. That dream wasn’t shattered. It was cracked, with a few pieces missing. But it was not forever gone.
Chapter 20
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.