Page 27 of A Baby for the BRATVA Boss
She rolls her eyes, smiling as she does when she thinks I’m being dramatic. “You always think you know everything.”
“Only when it comes to you.”
The twins stir, tiny noises like contentment. Sophia rocks them gently, the rhythm hypnotic. “You’re serious?”
I nod. “Completely.”
For a while, neither of us speaks. The fire crackles, snow presses against the windows, and the faint smell of cinnamon drifts from the kitchen.
She looks down at the babies and whispers, “I’m not scared this time.”
“I wouldn’t let you be.”
She meets my eyes. “You always keep your promises.”
I stand, sliding my hand through her hair, letting my thumb rest beneath her chin until she looks at me. “And I’ll keep this one too. You’ll never want for anything again. Not you, not them, not the next one.”
Her smile softens. “You mean our nextones.”
I can’t help it, I laugh quietly, shaking my head. “You’ll be the death of me,angelu.”
She reaches for my wrist, pressing a kiss to the inside of it. “No. I’ll be your life.”
She’s right. She’s always right.
When she finally lays the twins in their crib, I draw her against me from behind, both of us watching them sleep. Their smallbreaths, the way their fingers curl like they’re already learning to hold on.
Outside, the bells in the valley start to ring. Midnight. Christmas Eve.
Sophia turns in my arms, looking up at me. Her eyes shimmer in the firelight, full of love and exhaustion and something eternal.
“Happy Christmas, Yury.”
I press my forehead to hers. “Happy Christmas, Mrs. Dubovich.”
When I kiss her, it’s slow and certain. The kind of kiss that carries the weight of everything we’ve built, the danger, the devotion, the family born from it. And as the snow keeps falling, and our children sleep, I realize this: I don’t need to own the world.
I already have it.
Sophia
He has been softer with me since I had the twins, and it’s been driving me insane. It started around the second trimester when I began to show, and it never stopped, even when the doctor gave me the all clear.
Now I’m heavier, softer,saggier. As wonderful as becoming a mother was, the feeling that I lost my power grates against my nerves.
“What’s on your mind?” Yury asks me once we leave the nursery and pad through to our room.
“It’s nothing,” I say, not knowing how to for the sentences without sounding pathetic.
He pulls me back into him. “Not so fast, angelu,” he says before sliding his hand over my shoulders and rubbing at the tension. “Tell me.”
“I’m not delicate or fragile.” The words burst from me, louder than I’d intended and I shrink back from them.
His eyebrows flicker. “I know. You have proven that time and time again.”
“Then why are you being so gentle with me? I need what we had before.” I don’t know why tears have sprung to my eyes, and I brush them away in frustration. “I need to feel the way I did before.”
“I see,” he says, smoothing a thumb over my cheek. “I didn’t realize you felt this way.”
