Gilded Cage: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 1) by Nicole Fox (best books for 20 year olds .txt) 📕

I see myself relinquishing control over to Budimir, whether he deserves it or not.

I see myself living somewhere quiet and peaceful, where our children can grow up safe and normal, untouched by the violence and loss that has plagued both of us our entire lives.

I lean into the image, truly tasting it for the first time and not turning away in shame.

“Esme,” I whisper, just because I want to.

She smiles. “He’s saying hi to his papa.”

Papa.

“It feels impossible,” I say. “I know there’s a baby inside of you, but it just became real.”

Esme laughs, obviously amused by how amazed I am. “You’ve never felt a baby kick before?” she asks.

The moment the words are out of her mouth, the smile slides off her face.

“Oh, Artem, I’m sorry,” she says quickly.

I grab her hand and pull her to me.

“Don’t be sorry,” I console, settling her into the crook of my arm so that I can keep my hand on her belly and still see her face. “It’s okay.”

“I didn’t think. It was so stupid. I shouldn’t have—”

“I think I can talk about it now,” I reply. “I haven’t been able to say that before.”

She nods, waiting patiently for me to say whatever it is I want to.

“I never felt the baby kick with Marisha,” I tell her. “I suppose it was too early. Or else, she just didn’t tell me. Now that I think about it, maybe she didn’t tell me.”

Esme frowns. “Why wouldn’t she tell you?”

I sigh, remembering the days leading up to her death. We hadn’t exactly been the happiest couple, but I’d been trying.

At least, as much as I was capable of trying at that point.

“She was upset with me,” I answer slowly. “She was…”

I trail off. Old fights resurface and plunge me into a past that doesn’t feel like it belongs to me anymore.

“She was worried about the Bratva life for her baby?” Esme offers.

I shift uncomfortably, my hand stilling over her stomach.

Of course Esme would assume that was why Marisha had been upset with me. She was assuming that Marisha had felt the same way she did right now.

“No,” I say. “Marisha knew who I was. She accepted that the Bratva was my life.”

Esme’s eyes dim a little with that. A flicker of hurt passes across her face.

I hadn’t meant it to sound like an accusation, but I realize now that that’s exactly how it sounded.

I squeeze her hand hard in mine.

“She was a different woman, Esme,” I say.

“She was braver than I am, then.”

I shake my head. “No,” I say firmly. “She was strong. But her strength was different than yours.”

Esme smiles slightly, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. I squeeze her hand once more, reminding her to stay with me.

“She was upset about the hours I worked, the pace I was going at. She wanted me to make her a priority.”

“Oh,” Esme breathes. “And you weren’t?”

“I was young,” I admit. “I was consumed with proving myself. I wanted to be…”

“You wanted to be the next don,” Esme finishes for me.

I nod slowly. “Yes, that’s exactly what I wanted to be.”

Her expression falls slack for a moment, as though she’s weighing everything I’ve just said against her hopes.

“Esme,” I say, pulling her face towards mine. “I never imagined I would walk away from the Bratva… until just now.”

Her eyes spark a little. She wants to believe me so badly. But she’s scared to hope.

I can understand that.

“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” she whispers.

“I do mean it. I mean it with every fiber of my being.”

She leans in and kisses me hard, her lips pushing against mine with a force that parts them. I run my tongue down her bottom lip.

She trembles, her hands scratching at my shoulders desperately, hungrily.

I want to give myself to her.

I want to take everything she’s giving to me.

I want Esme Moreno to know that I love her. That I am here for her. That she and our baby are the only things left in this world that matter to me.

And then I hear something outside.

A sharp sound that sounds like a boot on gravel.

I pull back at once, my mind alert and my body instantly tense.

“What’s wrong?” Esme asks in alarm. She must not’ve heard the noise.

“Someone’s here,” I whisper as I rise from the sofa and glance out the open window of the cabin.

I can see the silhouette of our car, but nothing else.

“Artem…?”

“Wait here,” I say, as I hurry to the table in one corner of the room and grab the stolen pistol from the inside drawer. “Don’t move. Lock the door until I’m back.”

Esme’s eyes go wide as she watches me walk towards the door.

“Artem!” she begs, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please be careful.”

I nod and slip outside.

I see now what I couldn’t see before: a car parked right next to mine, blocking us in.

I creep over to the rear passenger’s side, trying to peer in without being noticed. The windows are tinted dark. I can’t tell if it’s occupied.

I keep the gun raised, unwilling to take a chance just in case whoever has decided to pay us a visit is hostile.

More noise. Heavy footsteps on the other side of the car.

I duck low and race around the back on bare, silent feet. Someone is getting out of the driver’s seat.

I creep up. Press a gun to the back of the bastard’s head. It’s too dark to make out much in the way of identifying features.

“Don’t move, motherfucker,” I snarl.

Then the clouds overhead part and the moon lights everything up with a soft white glow.

I see blond hair.

And when the man pivots slowly in place, hands raised in surrender, I see familiar blue eyes. A familiar cocky smile.

“Really?” the man says. “I come all the way up here and this is the welcome I get?”

“Cillian?” I say, in shock.

His smile widens. “Forgotten what I look like already?”

“Fuck,” I breathe. I’m more thrilled than I can say. “Fuck!”

70

Esme

My heart thunders in my