by Bethany-Kris
Maybe he shouldn’t have.
“Listen, I’m sorry,” Anton started to say.
Viviana shrugged as she opened up a dresser drawer and began pawing through her clothes. “Don’t be. I know you want another baby, and I do, too. It’s just …”
“What?” he asked.
“We can handle another child, I know. Demyan would be so happy to have a brother or sister, which is great. Children after thirty wasn’t in my plans, but thanks for pointing it out to me again.”
Anton flinched. “Vine.”
“I know all of these things, Anton.”
“But?” he prodded.
“But nothing.”
Every inch of Anton that wasn’t awake fully before suddenly was. Whipping around to stare at his wife with wide eyes, a slow smile crept over his lips. Was she saying what he thought she was? God, he fucking hoped so. “Yeah?”
Viviana rolled her eyes. “You’re so unobservant sometimes, Anton.”
Well, he disagreed there. Nothing about his family flew under Anton’s radar. They were the most important things in his life. “No, I’m not.”
“A little bit, especially when the Bratva is keeping you away from home like they have been lately.”
Unfortunately, that was truer than Anton wanted to admit. Ever since the mess with the New Jersey Bratva two and a half years earlier, his own guys had to be doubly careful over everything and anything they did. Taking out the Jersey boss ended up being a hell of a lot messier than any of them intended it to be, and the feds were so far down their throats that a lot of their dealings were just barely scraping by unnoticed.
But, wasn’t that always the mafia way?
Until the feds found a bigger fish to fry, they’d be on Anton’s ass like dogs looking for something to bite into. Being the boss of an organized crime family, he knew the risks he took. He also understood his responsibilities. Sometimes they had to come first, whether he wanted them to or not.
For instance, spending later nights at his club in Brighton Beach to keep the attention on him while his guys slipped by the ever watchful eye of the feds. Anton also felt the need to be constantly on his men, now. They couldn’t afford mistakes and he was the one left guaranteeing no one made any. No one would take him away from Viviana or Demyan. Not one of his guys screwing up. Not Anton overlooking a fuck up. Certainly not the FBI.
Viviana dropped her choice in clothing on the bed. “You have been gone a lot more than normal. Four nights this week I’ve put Demyan to bed without you. Sure, you’re always here before morning, and when you’re home, we have all of your attention. I’m not disputing that at all. I’m just saying that if you want another child, something has to give. Promise me I won’t be eating supper alone every day of the week. Tell me you’ll be here to read Demyan his bedtime story. Say you’ll make every doctor appointment.”
“I didn’t realize I’ve been letting you down so much lately.”
Viviana blinked back, surprised. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Didn’t you? If you feel like I’m lacking with you or our son—”
Before Anton could say another word, Viviana was climbing over their bed. She crossed the space between them in a flash, forgetting about the clothes she’d tossed to the bed and the morning routine she kept for their son. Instead, Anton found her falling into his lap, her thighs straddling his as her fingers fisted into his T-shirt.
Soft, warm lips pressed to Anton’s. He drew his wife closer into his body by wrapping his arms around her lower back and holding tight. For a long, silent moment, they stayed just like that with their foreheads pressed together and lips moving a slow, languid beat. Something heated and sinful built in Anton’s groin. Maybe it was the way Viviana’s hips were shifting on his waist, creating just enough friction to wake his body up all over again. Or, maybe it was the gentle breath of air she blew against his mouth when she finally pulled away.
“Never,” Viviana told him quietly, her gaze sharp and fierce. “You don’t let me down. You can’t. I just want you here more, that’s all. I know you’ve got a crap load of stuff going on, but can’t you let a little bit go, for us? Demyan asks for you when he wakes up in the night and I’m so tired of telling him you’ll be here in the morning. Be here at night, too, Anton. I don’t want to feel like I’m doing this alone, okay?”
Anton nodded, wishing the thickness that had built in his throat would disappear. “I’ll take him with me today. Let him spend time outside of the house with me, or whatever.”
“We have that dinner reservation, too.”
“I know. I made it for us,” Anton said with a smirk. “Just be ready by seven, Vine.”
“Any requests?” she asked, a coy gleam lighting up her eyes.
Anton’s hands slipped down lower to grab roughly on her backside. Viviana’s legs tightened to his waist as her bottom lip found its way between her teeth. There was no hiding the hard length of his erection pressing to the cotton of her panties.
“No, you’ve always got that handled just fine, baby, but I might send something along for you to have.”
Viviana hummed low. “About the rest …”
“Another baby, you mean. I’ll stop pressuring you about it, if that’s really what you want, Vine.”
“Unobservant,” she repeated, punctuating her words with a kiss to his mouth.
No, Anton wasn’t as inattentive as she thought. Viviana might have presumed he was so busy with everyone else that he was forgetting about her, but that certainly wasn’t the case. She was, and always would be, the first thing he considered when he woke up in the morning and the last thing he wondered about before bed. It didn’t matter when those times happened to come, especially if he was late getting home, or early getting up, Viviana still owned them.
Anton grazed his nose along the apple of his wife’s cheek as he said, “Two weeks ago you cancelled your appointment at the clinic.”
Viviana stilled in his embrace, her brown eyes flicking down to meet his smug stare. That appointment was for her birth control shot. Ever since she missed the one that led to the pregnancy for Demyan, Viviana was always on the ball about keeping up her shot. She only missed the shot by a couple of days and was still able to conceive within weeks afterwards.
“Instead, you brought Demyan to the club so we could have lunch together. You’re not the only one who keeps track of those things, Viviana.”
“You’ve been so busy …”
“Mmhmm,” Anton agreed, reaching up to cup her cheek. “But I still know what my priorities are. Sometimes they get a little skewed and end up mixing up with the rest of the stuff, but they’re still there. I don’t ever forget about you, or him.”
“Promise?”
Anton brushed the bangs that had fallen down over her eyes out of the way so he could see what was really behind that question. “Do I need to?”
Another puff of air blew against his mouth. “No, of course not.”
“I show more than I tell, and I obviously haven’t been doing that a lot, either. I haven’t had time to sit down lately so you could tell me about the appointment, I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
This time, Viviana didn’t ask for a promise. “Okay.”
“So …” Anton trailed off with a suggestive lift of his brow, allowing his hands to clasp tight to Viviana’s ass again. “Are we a go for at least one more?”
Viviana smirked playfully. “We’re certainly going to try.”
Chapter Two
“Do you think—”
Erik’s question was cut off as Demyan barrelled into the office at Seven Lights with his self-appointed best friend in tow. Rocco, their always faithful German shepherd, rarely left the boy’s side, even taking to sleeping in his bedroom beside his little bed.
“Papa! He got the car. He got it!”
Rocco barked, resting himself down proudly beside Demyan. As was their favorite game to play, Demyan would hide a toy somewhere, and the pup w
ould go and find it. Perhaps the bomb that nearly killed Viviana and their dog hadn’t nullified all of Rocco’s scenting ability as much as they thought, considering he found the toy nearly every damned time.
“That’s great, little man,” Anton said, turning back to Erik. “Do I think what, now?”
“Should we put off that export—”
“But, Papa …”
“Demyan, I’m busy. Don’t interrupt. It’s rude.”
“But—”
“Demyan!”
The indignant blue eyes of his toddler son glared up at Anton. When the boy rose his dark eyebrow, just like his father would when someone irked him, Anton held back his chuckles and a grin. It never failed to astound Anton how much Demyan acted and looked just like him. From his mannerisms, to his attitude, to his appearance, he could have been his little twin.
Sometimes, it was annoying as hell.
Other times, it was cute as shit.
Anton knew he and Viviana were in for a world of trouble when puberty hit. Just thinking about how he acted all those years ago was a scary prospect. He’d surely given his parents enough trouble and headaches to last them more than a lifetime. Anton dabbled in everything and anything he could get his hands into, chased every pretty face that caught his eye, and barely kept his head above water all the while.
Thank fucking God they still had a few more years before that storm came with Demyan.
Sighing, Anton went back to his son. “What, buddy?”
“What’s intewup … intewup …”
“Interrupting, child,” Erik said, shooting Anton a smile. “It means coming in on something you shouldn’t.”
Demyan huffed. “But, Papa, I got to pee.”
“I have to,” Anton corrected. “Not got, have, Demyan. And you know where the bathroom is.”
With another baleful look tossed over his small shoulder, Demyan disappeared out of the office with Rocco on his heels.
“You know,” Erik said, “he’s just like you.”
Anton grinned. “Thank you.”
“That’s not a compliment, asshole.”
“Oh, I know.”
“I’d be very afraid of that child, Anton,” Erik said teasingly. “He’s only two—”
“And a half.”
Erik snorted like that didn’t make a difference. “He’s taller than everybody his age, talking like he’s four-years-old, and you’ve even got him potty trained, for Christ’s sake.”
“Nah, that was all Vine,” Anton replied. “The moment he showed interest in taking a leak standing up, she had him all but trained.”
Thank fuck, Anton added silently. He hated changing diapers, but he did it.
“Does he point when he tells you no like a smartass, too?”
Anton’s head jerked up from the paper he was reading. “What?”
Yes, Demyan did that. At least once a day he tried to pull that nonsense on somebody. Viviana thought it was cuter than nothing else, but Anton couldn’t figure out who taught Demyan that ridiculous shit. They assumed it was because he was two and all toddlers did that kind of thing.
Didn’t they?
“You used to do that to Daniil all the time. Picked that up from Nicoli, you did. They never did break you of it, either. Hell, you still do it.”
“Really?” Anton asked.
Erik nodded, pulling a cigar from the inside of his suit jacket. “Yeah.”
“Huh.”
A wave of sadness washed over Anton as he considered his dead father. Surely Daniil would have enjoyed Demyan and the likeness he shared with his own son. Anton’s mother Sasha still told Demyan stories of his grandfather every chance she could, though he was still too young to fully understand.
With a sigh, Anton said, “No smoking while Demyan is in the club.”
Erik scowled. “But it didn’t kill you.”
Anton pointed his finger at his friend. “The answer is still no.”
“See, right there.”
“Oh, shut up,” Anton muttered under his breath.
Whether he liked it or not, Anton knew the truth of the matter was simple. Demyan was reflecting him. Just like Anton had for those around him. But, unlike his father and step-grandfather had while he was growing up, Anton tried to keep his son away from the family business as much as possible.
At just two-years-old, it already seemed like that was becoming a losing battle.
“Just like you he is,” Erik said quietly, glancing up over the cigar he was cutting. “The little prince.”
“I’d like to keep him as just my boy for a while longer.”
Erik shrugged. “Sometimes, you don’t get the choice.”
Those were dangerous, familiar words. Something Anton had once told his wife. It was a truth he didn’t want to face anytime soon.
“He’s just a kid, Erik. He doesn’t even understand all of this.”
“Yep, and so were you.”
***
The note smelled like roses. Fitting, considering it was written on a pink parchment with golden roses embossed in the corners.
Do not open, it read.
Viviana’s curiosity was killing her. She knew better than to open the gift before Anton wanted her to, though. Half of his pleasure was giving her something, the other half was watching her unwrap his presents. Damn man. He could have just brought it home himself, but no. Instead, he sent it home with one of his bulls so she could stare at it for hours and wonder.
“What did he do, now?” Clarissa asked, observing the velvet case resting the kitchen counter.
“I’m not sure.”
“Weren’t you two just going to dinner?”
Viviana nodded slowly, contemplating. “Yep.”
“Jewelry, then?”
“Probably not,” Viviana replied. “Diamond earrings yesterday morning for my birthday. Anton isn’t one to do a repeat.”
No, he was liable to go bigger and better. Something that would make her heart pound and her breath stutter. Money wasn’t an issue for her and Anton, and he never went cheap with anything he bought. Sometimes Viviana wondered how much money he spent on her, but she learned it was better not to ask and just appreciate the time and effort he put into his gifts. That way, she wasn’t so frightened to wear things like those pearls that were nearly a million dollars in her jewelry box upstairs.
Damn man, she thought again.
“Could be something to match,” Clarissa suggested. “It’s big enough to be that.”
“Too big. He knows I’d never wear something gaudy.”
Clarissa offered Viviana a smile that said she was on her own. “I think that husband of yours enjoys torturing you like he does.”
Well, after missing a good portion of her birthday yesterday and not coming home until after midnight, Anton was due for a show like this. “I did tell him he owed me something special.”
“Good luck. You better start getting ready, Vine. It’ll take your mind off that box.”
Sure it would.
Viviana took her sweet time getting ready for dinner. Make-up, while she rarely needed to wear it, was used to accentuate her dark eyes and create the smoky look her husband seemed to love so much. A deep, crimson red balm popped her lips with the same color that she used to rosy up her cheeks. Carefully, she hid the tiredness and nerves with strokes of concealer and brushes of bronzer.
Being that it was December, Viviana was choosy about her choice in shoes and a dress. The mid-thigh, white sweater dress that was suggestive enough to be considered sexy, but appropriate enough to be worn in a high-class restaurant and the white leather pumps were fine, so long as she didn’t have to walk through snow. The black thigh-high stockings lined with lace at the top would be enough to give her husband a hint of the garments she wore underneath the heavy dress and heels.
Knowing Anton, she wouldn’t have to hint at anything.
Just as Viviana was putting the finishing touches on her messy chignon, her cell phone buzzed with a tex
t.
The pearls. You know which ones. Wear them. There will be a car to pick you up in five. Bring the box.
Viviana stared at the phone, confused. Where was Demyan? She was sure Anton would bring their son home so he could stay with Clarissa. Also, Anton was supposed to pick her up so they could go to the restaurant together.
What in the hell was he up to?
She sent him back a text to ask about their son, but Anton didn’t respond.
Sticking her head out of the master bathroom, Viviana called, “Clarissa?”
Oddly, there was no response from her, either.
Viviana unlocked the jewelry case and grabbed the pearls in question, ignoring the queasy feeling in her stomach over the dollar price of the jewels she held. If she lost them, or worse, someone accidentally broke one of the strands, her heart would surely break. They had been a gift from Anton for the birth of their son.
After the pearls were secured around her throat, Viviana made her way through the house, grabbing one of the darker mink coats from the hallway closet. Again, she called out for Clarissa to tell the maid she was leaving, but no one answered her back. A quick check of the bottom floor told her the back entrance was locked and Clarissa was missing. Had she said she was going out, too? Viviana didn’t think so. Clarissa didn’t have many friends, given her past and lack of trust in outsiders. She didn’t have a great deal of places to go, honestly.
Grabbing the velvet box and slipping on the soft, heavy coat, Viviana opened the front door and nearly fell out onto the front step.
The car that should have by all intents been just a regular car to pick her up, was anything but. Sleek and black, it sported strong lines and sexy curves. The chrome lining the doors and wheels surely cost the same as a small car. Red lines trimmed the bottom of the vehicle, giving it the sporty, expensive effect those cars were known for.
Only on scarce occasions had Viviana seen a vehicle like the one at the end of the driveway, and she was pretty sure it was only on the television.
