Page 137 of Hunt Me
“Largemeaningfulrectangles.” Sofia’s exasperation carries genuine affection.
Across the room, Dmitri pours wine while Tash perches on the counter beside him, swinging her legs like a child. She’s been trying to convince him that his suit collection needs “diversification” beyond shades of blue.
“Navy is not a statement, Dmitri. It’s a surrender.”
“Navy is classic.” He hands her a glass, fingers lingering against hers. “Unlike that disaster you wore to the Vanderbilt charity auction.”
“That ‘disaster’ was vintage Dior, you philistine.”
“It was vintagesomething.”
Tash throws a piece of bread at his head. He catches it without looking.
Nikolai sits at the head of the massive dining table, reviewing something on his tablet with the intensity he exudes. Sofia abandoned her art theory lecture to perch on his lap.
“Are you working during family dinner?”
“I’m ensuring we still have assets to finance family dinner.” But he sets the tablet aside, arm sliding around her waist.
Alexi emerges from the wine cellar carrying a bottle I know costs more than my first car. He’s been down there for fifteen minutes, which means he was actually checking the security feeds and running diagnostic sweeps on the estate’s network.
Old habits die hard.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” I accept the wine glass he offers.
“Always.” His smile carries meanings only I understand.
Dmitri clears his throat. “So when do we tell them?”
Tash shoves him in the ribs. “You said you’d decide.”
Dmitri shrugs. “I think it’s time.”
“We’re pregnant,” Tash blurts out, then winces. “I mean,I’mpregnant. Dmitri just provided genetic material.”
The room erupts.
Sofia launches herself from Nikolai’s lap, nearly knocking over his wine. Katarina gasps, hands flying to her mouth. Erik sets down his Glock.
“How far along?” Sofia’s already hugging Tash, who looks simultaneously thrilled and terrified.
“Ten weeks.” Dmitri’s composure cracks just enough to show genuine emotion underneath. “We found out three days ago.”
Nikolai stands, moving around the table with that predatory grace. “Congratulations, brother.” He clasps Dmitri’s shoulder, then pulls him into a rare embrace.
Erik follows, his version of affection more reserved but no less sincere. “You’ll be a good father.”
“Better than ours,” Dmitri mutters.
“Low bar,” Erik agrees.
Alexi crosses the kitchen, pulling Tash into a hug that lifts her off her feet. “You’re going to be the most terrifying mother in Boston.”
“Damn right I am.” She’s laughing when he sets her down. “This kid is getting self-defense lessons in utero.”
“I’ll handle the training,” Erik offers.
“Absolutely not.” Dmitri’s back to his usual control. “My child will not be learning combat maneuvers before learning to walk.”
