Page 43 of Oops Baby for the Mafia Boss
“I think a boy would be good,” I reply.
He shrugs and laces our fingers together, squeezing. “We’ll have a girl eventually.”
My tummy flutters and as he holds tight it feels like a promise. Does that mean he wants a girl? And he’ll want to have kids until we get one?
In the car driving away from the clinic, I clutch a small image the ultrasound specialist printed off for us. Markov finally broke his silence to the medical staff when she asked if we’d like a second copy, and he snapped, “Yes.”
He closed his fingers around the little photograph possessively, and then tucked it into the breast pocket of his suit jacket.
Seeing him there has shown how he’s making an effort for me. I don’t know where I stand with him, and he is still a Bratva Pakhan. Misunderstandings could be fatal.
And it’s only just occurred to me, since there’s been so much else going on, that his voice is a surprise. He has a British accent.
“You don’t have a Russian accent,” I say.
“I do in Russian,” he replies deadpan.
“Is it easier for you to talk in Russian? Should I learn?” I could do that?—
“No.” He sighs and takes my hand in his, squeezing it.
Okay. Well.
I guess English it is. Unease scratches at me. Markov is being very sweet, but after three months apart and only really knowing each other for an hour a day before that, can I trust it?
I’m in love with him, that’s obvious. But how does he feel?
He might want me and the baby now, but it’s not like we’re married. He hasn’t even said he loves me.
17
MARKOV
It’s over a week later when we finally go to the Mortlake headquarters. Between shopping trips for maternity clothes, spending a lot of time having sex that blows my mind and makes me never want us to leave the house again, planning the nursery, considering baby names, and ensuring Emily is eating and resting sufficiently, I’ve had plenty of excuses, and just enough time for my plan.
We bought baby clothes that I’m fairly sure will never be used, because I’m certain any baby with half my genetics will only be that size for three minutes, but they made Emily glow with happiness. We also listened to the whole of the latest book in theGame of Thorns and Dragonsseries. Mainly, sitting together in her library, sharing the headphones, Emily nestled between my legs and leaning back onto my chest. I love it when she falls asleep like that.
When we walk in with her hand tightly clasped in mine, we draw some cautiously curious stares from the reception and a group of my men. They all give me respectful nods, but I can imagine they must be able to figure out the relationship between me having them search for a girl for three months, and me arriving here with Emily on my arm.
We don’t go to my top-floor suite, instead taking the stairs to Emily’s old basement level. If she’s confused by this, she doesn’t show it.
She drifts ahead when we get to her office, and I allow her.
“Oh wow, it’s just the same.” There’s a note of wistfulness in her tone.
I take a deep, steadying breath that does exactly nothing to calm my nerves.
As she trails a finger over her old desk, I lower myself to one knee.
“It’s weird having been away for…” She turns and from this angle I can see how her neck is stretched, her head tilted up in expectation of looking into my face, well above hers given I’m six-foot-five.
There’s momentary confusion in her expression as I’m not where I usually am these days, right behind her if I’m not at her side, on top of her, or inside her.
Then her chin drops, and her big brown eyes widen as she sees me kneeling.
“Markov, what are you... Are you okay? Is there something on the floor? What are you doing?”
I shake my head for each question.
