Page 96 of Masked Seduction
“I was terrified he killed the baby,” I whisper.
“So was I,” he answers. Then quieter, almost like a vow, he adds, “Never again.”
I tug him closer, needing the solidity of his chest against my cheek, the steady drum of a heart that just went to war for me. Sunlight spills over us, and for the first time since the restaurant I let myself believe we’re safe.
Abram settles on the mattress beside my hip, his big body somehow fitting there like a disciplined guard dog. His thumb sweeps tiny circles across my knuckles—sweet torture when every other part of him radiates lethal energy.
He clears his throat. “So.” The single word is deep, cautious, and weirdly hopeful. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I huff a soft laugh. “You mean why didn’t I blurt it out between spreadsheets and threat assessments?”
“That would’ve worked,” he deadpans.
I tug the sheet higher over my lap. “At first I needed to process it. Surprise pregnancies aren’t exactly something you announce on Slack.”
His brow arches. “Slack?”
“Figure of speech, Mr. Antiquated Communication.” A grin tugs at my swollen lip. He chuckles, but lets me continue. “Then Claire convinced me I should make it special. I thought the Michelin-star place you booked would be perfect—candles, anincredible view, a fancy soup I couldn’t pronounce. The perfect setting, right?”
Recognition flashes in his ice-blue eyes and he nods ruefully. “Ideal, before the armed-idiot intermission.”
“Exactly.” I squeeze his fingers. “Not really the vibe for baby confessions.”
He winces, but there’s humor behind it. “Point taken.”
My smile wavers. The hospital hum fades as all the unspoken fears crowd in. “Honestly, Abram, I didn’t know if you’d want any of this.” I gesture to my stomach. “We’ve known each other, what, almost two months? Six weeks since The 13th Floor. That’s whirlwind territory.”
His thumb stills, the quiet stretching between us until I think I might float away on it. Then he leans in, forehead almost touching mine.
“Listen to me, Jenna Ridley. You are not alone in this. Not for one heartbeat. I am in—blood, bone, and soul. You and our child are mine to protect.” Each word is deliberate, intentional.
My chest caves with relief, but old defenses kick in once more. “You say that now, but what if the Bratva world gets uglier? We survived last night, but what if…” I trail off.
He exhales like a volcano venting steam. “I hated every second of last night, other than our peaceful moments at the restaurant before all hell broke loose. But I promise, I will carve out a safer reality for us, for our family. You’ll never be used against me again.” His gaze slides to my belly, softening in a way that makes my heart ache. “This baby… it’s a gift I never expected.”
A ridiculous hiccup-sob escapes me. “So you’re not mad?”
“Mad?” His lips brush my bruised knuckles. “I’m furious. I’m furious at Nico, at myself for not preventing this. But about the baby?” He shakes his head, a small smile finally breaking through. “I’m over the moon. I’m just sorry you carried that fear and uncertainty alone.”
I dab at my eyes. “Thank you.”
“What do you need from me,malyshka?”
“Food. I’m starving.”
He laughs and stands, planting a gentle kiss to my forehead. “I’ll call the kitchen, have them make whatever you’re craving.”
“Steak and ice cream?”
Another laugh. “Anything. And after that, you rest. Tomorrow, we’ll talk names.”
Names. The word flutters through me like a sunrise. I watch him stride to the door and issue an order to the guard, letting my head sink back into the pillows.
He’s happy about the baby.
He comes back, wrapping his hand around mine. I notice a shift in his gaze—a flicker of storm-cloud gray passing through the icy-blue.
“What?” I ask, heart tripping. “Tell me.”
