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

leave you two be.” He steps back around her bed and exits the room, clapping me on the shoulder as he goes.

A moment later, the door opens and Dr. Sussman walks in. He’s a short, fat man with a bald patch and grey whiskers. His looks don’t inspire confidence, but I’ve seen firsthand what he’s capable of.

“Evening, sir,” he says with a cool, detached tone. “I’ve been briefed on everything. I’ll just do a small examination now and let you know where we stand.”

I nod and place Esme’s hand back against her stomach. My gaze lingers on her face for a moment before I walk around her bed.

“You can stay for the examination,” Sussman tells me.

“I have a call to make,” I tell him. “I’ll be back in soon.”

Then I head out of the room. It’s crowded outside with all the guards I’ve stationed to protect Esme.

Cillian’s off in the corner talking to someone on the phone. Probably coordinating with our men outside the facility to lockdown a meeting spot.

I pick up my phone and call Budimir, who picks up on the fourth ring.

“Artem, my boy.”

“Sorry I didn’t return your call sooner,” I tell him. “I was—”

“With your wife,” Budimir finishes for me. “Yes, Cillian told me. How is she?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

Budimir makes a sound that’s meant to be sympathetic, but it sounds more like he’s trying to cough up a hairball. Sympathy is not among his finer qualities.

“Those bastards really took us by surprise,” he scowls. “But we won’t be caught off guard the second time.”

“There’s not going to be a second time,” I vow through gritted teeth. “The next time there’s an attack, we’re going to be the ones to launch it.”

“Spoken like a true don,” Budimir says approvingly. “Your father would have been proud.”

I bristle against the words. We’re already talking about him in the past tense. It feels somehow like a betrayal.

“No, he wouldn’t have,” I counter. “He would have criticized every single decision I’m making.”

There’s a low chuckle that confirms the truth of my words. “That was his way of making you better.”

“Fat lot of good that did him,” I snap back.

“I’ve been searching for clues, Artem,” Budimir continues. “Trying to find out who was behind this attack.”

“And? Any leads?”

“A few. All unsubstantiated for the moment, but I’m following them through.”

“You’ll let me know the moment you know anything.”

“Of course,” Budimir assures. “You are the don now.”

The title feels strange coming from my uncle’s lips. I hang up and take a deep breath before walking back into Esme’s room.

Dr. Sussman is writing down something on a notepad, which he then passes to the blonde nurse.

“Well?” I ask, more gruffly than I intended.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Dr. Sussman says with a small smile. “Your wife will recover. She’s young, healthy and strong. I think perhaps she’s been under a lot of stress lately. That, combined with the stress of pregnancy…”

The stress of what?

“…might have exacerbated her anxiety. But you have nothing to fear: the baby is perfectly healthy as well.”

What the fuck is he talking about?

I stare blankly at the doctor, trying to reconcile what he’s just said with my reality.

I shake my head, trying to convince myself that I’ve misheard him.

Esme isn’t pregnant. She can’t be.

“Did you just say… baby?” I ask.

“Yes, I’ve checked both their vitals,” Dr. Sussman explains with a pleasant nod. “A strong heartbeat and vitals all look flawless. A healthy little bean.”

He must notice the horror in my expression then, because his smile sours to a frown.

“Forgive me, Mr. Kovalyov. Have I said something wrong?”

“How far along is she?” I demand, my eyes narrowing.

Fury rises up in my belly. Hot and vicious.

Esme lied. She hid things from me.

A baby.

A child.

An heir.

Dr. Sussman glances at the chart in the nurse’s hand and then back at me. “Uh… four months,” he reads. “Just about.”

Four fucking months.

There’s no way Esme didn’t know she was pregnant for that long. Which means that she knew and she didn’t tell me.

I tighten my hands into fists.

All the questions I’ve been asking myself for the last twenty-four hours dissipate completely.

Now, there’s only one left…

What else has my wife been hiding?

41

Esme

I know it’s a nightmare, but I can’t wake up.

I’m strapped to a chair in the middle of an ocean of darkness.

In the distance—footsteps. Heavy. Plodding.

A man emerges from the swirling shadows. It’s the son of a bitch from The Siren. The one who tried to rape me.

He’s back and uglier and twice as big as before.

Twice as hungry. Twice as cruel.

“No one is coming to save you this time,” he rumbles. His face splits in a sickening grin. “You’re all mine for eternity.”

Then, moving impossibly fast for a man of his size, he shoves a knife between my ribs.

I gasp.

Pain explodes.

The bastard grins. Vanishes.

Leaving me slumped forward in the chair. Unable to do anything but writhe with pain and scream into the empty void around me.

Then—more movement in the black beyond.

And Cesar steps forward into my line of vision.

He smiles sadly. That tousled black hair that would never lay straight looks the same as it always did. The same as it did the day he left and never came home.

My dead brother walks over, kneels next to me, and strokes the back of my hand.

“Hello, Esme,” he murmurs.

“You left me,” I whisper. The knife in my ribs hurts so bad. “You promised you wouldn’t, but you did. Look what happened now.”

“I know, little bird,” he says. His eyes are full of tears. Mine are, too. “I didn’t have a choice. I’m sorry.”

“That’s enough,” another voice says. Sharp, cruel, and horribly familiar.

A new man joins us.

“Papa,” I breathe.

My father ignores me. He sets a hand on Cesar’s shoulder and pulls my brother to his feet.

“She’s a lost cause,” he mutters. “A whore for the Russian. Do what must be done.”

Cesar nods. Dutiful as ever.

Slowly, he pivots to face me again.

“I’m sorry, little sister,” he says in a voice so low I can barely hear it.

Then