Page 89 of Scarred Bratva King

The sincerity in his voice takes my breath away, but it also terrifies me. “You’d just walk away from everything? From the life you’ve built?”

He nods slowly. “For you? Yes.”

My heart clenches. “I don’t want you to quit. I just need to know that there won’t be any more deaths because of me.”

His expression darkens, and I see the conflict in him as he leans back again, his hand raking through his hair.

“I can’t promise no more violence, Veronica. But I can promise you this: no more blood on my hands. The Lombardi threat is gone. There’s no reason for any trouble on that scaleto ever happen again. Ivan’s on his way to shut down their last surviving operations across the country. It’s over for their empire. For good.”

I feel my resolve wavering, his words pulling at something deep inside me. “And what about being a father? Can you promise me you’ll put our child first?”

He stands, stepping closer until he’s right in front of me, his towering presence intimidating. “Yes,” he says, his voice low.

I search his face, looking for cracks in his armor, any sign that he’s lying to himself or to me. But all I see is sincerity—and love. It’s terrifying in its intensity.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I whisper, my voice trembling.

“I never do,” he says, his hand reaching out. His touch is so gentle, it makes my heart ache. “I’m not a good man but I am loyal.”

I swallow hard, the divorce papers still clutched in my hand. Slowly, I lower them to the desk and let them go. “You’re wrong. And you’d better not make me regret this.”

He glances at the papers. “Unsigned.” A faint broken smile curves his lips as he rips them in two. “So you already made your mind up.”

“You helped me make it up just now. You might not be a good man but I reckon you might become one. As long as you watch The Truman Show regularly. It’s the only way.”

He takes me in his arms, his face inches from mine, his expression unreadable but his eyes brimming with vulnerability.

“You make me want to be better,” he says, his voice hesitant, like he’s unsure how the words will land. “For you. For our child. I love you, Veronica.”

The words hit me like a wave, my heart stumbling in my chest. For a moment, I can’t speak, the sheer weight of hisconfession stealing my breath. “You love me?” My voice wavers, and I hate how unsure I sound.

He nods, his hand cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear from my cheek.

More tears come freely, but they’re not from sadness. They’re from relief, from hope, from the overwhelming feeling of finally hearing the words I’ve been waiting for.

“I love you too,” I whisper, smiling through my tears. “But don’t think this gets you off the hook on the baby name debate.”

His lips twitch into a small shy smile. “As long as they’re not Italian, I don’t care what you choose.”

I step back slightly, just enough to grab his hand and pull him toward the couch in the corner of the study.

We sit together, close enough that our knees touch, and I can’t help but laugh as I think about the absurdity of the moment. “Okay, so let’s hear it. What’s your idea of the perfect name for our child?”

He leans back, his arm draping across the back of the couch behind me. “I was thinking something classic. Like Anna. Or Konstantin.”

“Russian classics, huh?” I tease, raising an eyebrow. “Why am I not surprised?”

“What’s wrong with that?” he asks, his smirk growing. “Anna Karenina is a masterpiece. And Konstantin is a strong name. My dog was called Konstantin.”

“Hold on. You had a dog and you want our kid named after it?”

“Yes, I had a dog and what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. You just don’t seem like the dog type.”

“Wouldn’t mind another one.” He chuckles, the sound deep and rich. “Let’s hear your suggestions, then.”

I straighten, pretending to look serious. “Elizabeth. Darcy. Maybe Jane. You know, something from proper classics.”