Page 208 of Filthy Promises

His eyes drop to my stomach, then back to my face. “Are you alright? The baby?—”

“We’re fine.” I wrap my arms around my bump. “Physically, at least.”

His jaw tightens. “Arkady,” he calls over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off me, “conclude the meeting and take Anastasia home. We’ll reconvene tomorrow.”

No one utters a single syllable. They file out of the study, each nodding respectfully to Vince as they pass. Anastasia gives me a look I can’t quite interpret—sympathy mixed with something harder. A warning, perhaps. Then she is gone with the rest.

When we’re finally alone, Vince approaches me slowly. “Let me help you back upstairs,” he offers.

“No.” I step away from his outstretched hand. “Not until you explain what I just saw.”

He sighs, scrubbing at his beard with both hands. “This isn’t a conversation we should have standing in the hallway.”

“Then let’s have it in your study.” I gesture to the room behind him. “Since that seems to be where the real business happens anyway.”

His expression hardens for a moment before smoothing into resignation. “Very well.”

He steps aside, allowing me to enter the room first. It looks different now that I’m inside it—less intimidating, more familiar. It’s just a room. Just a normal, boring room with books and leather furniture and a desk too large for practical purposes.

You’d never know a man almost just died in here.

You’d never know my husband was the one who almost killed him.

I lower myself carefully onto the leather sofa. Vince remains standing, his hands clasped behind his back.

“What do you want to know?” he asks finally.

“Everything,” I answer. “What was that? Who was that man? What did he do? What’s going to happen to him?”

Vince takes a deep breath. “Igor Federov. Mid-level Bratva soldier. He’s been selling information to the Solovyovs—shipping schedules, security rotations, personnel details.”

“And for that, you were going to kill him.”

“For that, yes.” He doesn’t try to sugarcoat it. “Betrayal is punishable by death. It’s our way.”

“‘Your way.’” I can’t stand how those words taste when I say them. “Is that what you want our child to learn? That Daddy kills people who disappoint him?”

“That’s hardly fair?—”

“None of this is fair!” My voice rises despite my efforts to control it. “I’ve been lying to myself, pretending we can have some kind of normal life. Reading books together, planning the nursery, acting like you’re just a regular husband who happens to have unusual business hours.”

“It was working,” he says quietly.

“No, it wasn’t. I was just choosing not to see the truth.” I gesture around us. “This is the reality, isn’t it? No, don’t answer that—I know it is. This is your world. Our world now, I guess.”

He moves to sit beside me, not touching, but close enough that I can smell his cologne, can see the tiny lines of tension around his eyes.

“It’s part of it,” he admits. “A part I’ve tried to shield you from.”

“Why? Because you think I’m too weak to handle it?”

“Because I love you, Rowan.” The raw honesty in his voice catches me off-guard. “I don’t want this darkness to touch you. Or our child.”

I look away, unable to meet his gaze. “Too late, Vince. Way too late.”

The baby chooses that moment to kick—a strong, insistent movement that makes me gasp. Vince’s hand hovers over my belly, waiting for permission.

After a moment’s hesitation, I nod.

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