Page 29 of Secret Bratva Baby
“I want to make her some warm milk with sugar. It helps her sleep.”
“I’ll make it and bring it up. Pick any of the bedrooms upstairs,” he sighs, burdened with emotion. He gestures towards the staircase leading to the upper floor.
“Any bedroom?”
“Yes. Whichever one you are comfortable in.”
“Thank you,” I mutter.
Upstairs, I glance into three bedrooms. One is crisp and white and stark. Another is dark gray, and it looks like it might be his bedroom. The third one is decorated with softer colors, coral and green tropical wallpaper adorning two sides of the room. Lily will like this more than the boring white room.
I try to set her down on the bed, and she grips tighter onto my T-shirt, not wanting to let me go.
“Hey, sweetie. It’s okay. We’re all okay now.”
“They were baddies,” she says, her voice small.
“They were baddies, but Luka kept us safe, didn’t he?”
“Mm,” she nods.
“And now, he brought us to his castle.” I gesture around the room.
Luka walks in carrying a glass of milk. “Here you go, kiddo. Milk for the princess.”
“Is this really a castle?” Lily asks, staring up at Luka with wide eyes.
“Of course, it is. It’s a magical castle. Tomorrow I’ll show you around the garden when the sun is out.”
“Okay,” she says, lifting the milk to her lips and taking a sip.
She’s exhausted. Her eyes are red and she’s struggling to keep them open.
Luka leaves, and I sit with her, talking, telling her stories, until her head drops onto the pillow and she’s breathing softly.
It’s time.
I have to go downstairs and talk to him.
My heart clenches tightly in my chest.
It’s going to be ok.
Downstairs, I find Luka on the patio, standing near the edge, staring up at the night sky.
He hears my footsteps but doesn’t turn to look at me.
“There’s a whisky on the table for you,” he says.
“Thanks.” I pick it up, taking a sip and letting the smooth, single malt heat my throat.
“Luka,” I sigh, trying to figure out how to explain myself.
“She’s my daughter?” he asks, searching for confirmation of what he already knows.
“She is. She’s yours. I fell pregnant the last time we were together, about a week before you left me.”
It feels so good to admit that. So good to just tell the truth and not have to hide it anymore. “I’m sorry, Luka. I wanted to—I—” I stammer, not finding the words.
