Chapter 42: Mafia Prince’s Secret Baby: Chapter 41

“Is everyone packed?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder to make sure all the suitcases are in the car.

Katya nods, the sunlight streaming through her dark strands, making her hair glow like it’s caught fire. It’s been less than a week since the incident, and while her bruises are fading fast, the sight of them still makes my jaw clench. Every time I see the faint shadows on her skin, a quiet fury rises inside me. I can’t change what happened—I can only make sure she and Sofiya never face anything like that again.

I’ve been treating Katya like a porcelain doll ever since, as if any wrong move could break her. And yet, every night when I hold her, we’re anything but fragile. I’ve made love to her in ways that leave me dizzy with how much I need her—so many times, in so many positions that the Kama Sutra would blush.

Across the yard, Sofiya runs around my parents’ house, chasing imaginary butterflies, while Damien sits on the porch steps, staring wide-eyed at the newest addition to the family—a tiny gecko they’ve named Arnold. The sight is absurdly domestic and strangely perfect.

“Are you sure you don’t want to return to your apartment?” Katya asks, her voice drawing my attention back to her.

“We’re starting something new.” My words are steady despite the storm of emotions churning inside me. I take her hands in mine, my grip firm but careful, as if holding on too tightly might shatter this fragile moment.

There’s a weight between us, heavy and unavoidable—the unspoken conversation about her job in Russia and the possibility of her leaving. I’ve thought about it a hundred different ways, all the ways I could force her to stay.

She and Sofiya belong here. With me and Damien.

But none of that feels right anymore.

It’s not who I want to be. Not with her.

I swallow hard, my thumb brushing across her knuckles. I’ve always been a man who takes what he wants, who shapes the world to his will. But with her, I am different.

She has to see it for herself—how much she means to me, how much this life I’ve built is incomplete without her and Sofiya in it.

“It’s only right that we start from scratch.”

She chuckles, shaking her head in amusement, but the light in her eyes tells me she’s happy with the change. And how could she not be? Her first experience in my old condo wasn’t exactly warm and welcoming.

“Where is this new apartment?” she asks as I put the last of our things in the car.

I grin, unable to keep my pride in check. “Upper East Side’s one and only Fifth Avenue.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “We can afford that?”

“Oh volchitsa,” I chuckle, shaking my head at her disbelief. “We can afford it several times over.”

With the recovered shipment and the paycheck that came with it, everything’s fallen back into place. And as a suitable punishment for Olenko, I made sure he paid for every ounce of damage his family inflicted on mine. After the numbers were settled, I walked away as the proud owner of The Velvet Echo and three other clubs just like it.

“Okay, kids, it’s time to leave,” I call out, gesturing toward the car. Sofiya is looking at me, and I wink at her. While I’m still learning sign language, she and I have gotten better at understanding each other. She smiles, a silent, sweet promise of trust, and climbs into her seat. Damien follows suit, gently cradling Arnold in his little hands.

Once the kids are buckled in, I slide into the driver’s seat, Katya beside me.

“Tomorrow’s implant day,” Katya reminds me as I start the engine, her eyes scanning the agenda on her phone. “I know the initial results were good, but I’m still nervous.”

Her voice wavers slightly, betraying the worry she tries so hard to suppress. Katya’s always meticulous and careful when it comes to Sofiya’s health, and the implant feels like a leap into the unknown. But I have faith—faith in the doctors, faith in the technology, and most of all, faith in Sofiya’s resilience.

“There’s nothing to worry about.” I reach over to squeeze her hand.

“Igor,” she starts, her voice dropping low enough that the Damien won’t hear. “You keep saying that, and I want to believe you, but what if it doesn’t work? What if things don’t get better?”

I glance at her, frowning as her words sink in. “What do you mean? Are we still talking about Sofiya?”

“Yes. No. I mean…” She exhales a shaky breath, running her fingers through her hair. “After everything that happened—that day at the apartment…” She falters. “Galina’s still alive.”

“She’s in a hospital,” I remind her firmly. “Vasiliy’s men are watching her around the clock. They’ll transport her to Russia as soon as her condition stabilizes. She’ll never set foot outside a prison cell. Vasiliy has enough authority in the FSB to make sure of that.”

Katya’s lips press into a thin line, and she stares out the window, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. “I’m scared,” she whispers. “Not that I wish her dead, but what if she comes after me again? Or Sofiya this time?”

The knot in my chest tightens. If anyone deserves peace, it’s Katya. And damn if I’m not going to do everything in my power to make it a reality.

“You’ll have to trust me, volchitsa,” I say softly, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “Vasiliy’s on a plane to Moscow with Boris right now. And while I’m not a fan of the Russian secret service, even I have to admit, they’re experts at making people disappear. I’m just glad your brother is on our side, dealing with the Olenkos instead of us.”

Her expression softens, and a small smile tugs at her lips, the worry lines on her forehead fading slightly.

“There’s one more thing we have to talk about,” she says hesitantly. The weight of her words hangs in the air between us.

“Yes,” I nod, my heart thudding as I prepare for what’s coming. “I have all my arguments ready. If you want to do this now.”

She draws a slow breath. “I have a job waiting for me back in Moscow,” she says, her tone weak, like she’s trying to convince herself as much as me. “My sabbatical is coming to an end next month. It’s a good job—an influential one. A job that allows me to make a difference. And I worked very hard for it.”

I take a deep breath, buying myself a moment to collect my thoughts. This shouldn’t be so hard. I have no right to ask Katya to give up her career for me. But at the same time, I can’t lose her and Sofiya.

The car isn’t the best place for this conversation, especially with two kids in the backseat, but if Katya’s ready to talk about it now, I can’t push it aside.

I pull over to the side of the road and shift in my seat to face her.

“I understand everything you’re saying,” I begin, reaching for her hand. “No matter what you decide, I’ll support you. We can make it work over long distance too. The decision is yours. But…”

She watches me, the fingers of her free hand nervously toying with her earrings, that little habit I find maddeningly sexy.

“But I need you to hear me out. Can you do that?”

She nods slowly, her eyes meeting mine, and in that moment, I feel it—the raw vulnerability in her gaze, the way she’s looking to me for answers and reassurance.

“You changed me, Katya,” I whisper. “You came in like a tornado, sweeping away everything dark and stale. From the moment I met you, you unlocked something in me—something I didn’t even know was there. You embraced my darkness. You gave my life meaning again. And damn if I’m not going to fight for you.”

My voice catches, and I take another breath, my grip on her hand tightening.

“I want us to be a family,” I continue, my voice firm and unwavering. “I want you and Sofiya to stay in New York. I want you to be my wife. And if we’re lucky, I want us to have a few more kids.”

Her lips part, her eyes widening, and for a moment, the world stands still.

A tear slips down her cheek, catching the golden light filtering through the window. It clings there for a heartbeat before sliding down, and my chest tightens. She doesn’t need to say much for me to know I hit the mark.

“The love I have for you and the kids… It’s a love that won’t dim or fade. I want to be with you, Igor. But…” She hesitates, her hands nervously twisting together in her lap. “I’m not built to be a housewife or a stay-at-home mom. I like working. I love my job. What will I do if stay here?”

It hits me like a punch to the gut. This is so quintessentially her. Katya is strong, independent, driven. It’s one of the reasons I love her, one of the reasons I can’t imagine a future without her.

I exhale deeply, inching closer, my hands moving to cup her face. Her skin feels warm under my palms, grounding me as I gather my thoughts.

“Katya,” I murmur, “You of all people deserve the best. Hell, you are the best. So stay with me. Help me take care of our family and build something of your own. I know it’s not ideal to start over, but I promise I’ll help you set it all up. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Her lips part slightly, her bright green eyes searching mine. It’s as if she’s peering into my soul, dissecting every word, weighing every promise I’m laying at her feet. I lean closer, letting the sincerity of my words hang in the air.

“You can get a license to practice law in the States,” I continue, warming to the train of thought. “I’ll figure out how. Hell, I’ll sit down and study with you if that’s what it takes. You can take every step at your own pace, and I’ll be with you for all of it. Every late night, every early morning—I’ll be there. We’ll make it work. You’ll never have to give up what you love, and you’ll have us. What do you say?”

She blinks, and for a moment, I can see the weight of her fears lifting.

“I suppose we can try,” she whispers, her words trembling with the uncertainty of someone stepping into the unknown.

The words are like music to my ears. Relief courses through me as I pull her in for a kiss, desperate to show her how much this means to me. But before our lips can touch, a tiny green blur lands on my shoulder, startling both of us.

“Arnold!” Damien’s delighted cry cuts through the tension, his voice bubbling with excitement.

The gecko clings to me, its small claws scratching against my shirt as I look over at Damien, who’s grinning ear to ear. Innocent, joyful laughter fills the car, wrapping around us like a warm embrace. It’s infectious, pulling a deep, unrestrained laugh from Katya. I glance over at her, and my chest swells at the sight.

Her smile is radiant, her earlier worry forgotten as she reaches out to gently pluck Arnold from my shoulder and place him into Damien’s eager hands. “Careful,” she warns, her voice soft and motherly, “don’t squish him.”

Before I know it, we’re all smiling, our laughter blending together in a way that feels impossibly perfect. We probably look like the happiest family on earth—and maybe, for the first time, that’s exactly what we are.

With a content smile still tugging at my lips, I turn back to the wheel and start the engine. The car hums to life, and we pull away from the side of the road, heading toward our new home.

Katya’s hand slips into mine, her fingers lacing through mine in a quiet show of trust. I squeeze her hand gently, silently reassuring her of everything we just talked about.

In my mind, I can already see it—the apartment on Fifth Avenue, its wide-open spaces filled with light and laughter. It’ll be a place where Sofiya can grow up safe, where she can dream as big as she wants. A place where Damien will always feel loved and secure. A place where Katya can thrive, where she’ll never feel like she has to choose between her dreams and her family.

Because wherever they are—Katya, Sofiya, and Damien—that’s home.

“Tomorrow’s going to be a big day,” Katya murmurs, her head resting against the window as she watches the scenery blur past.

“Yes,” I agree, glancing over at her. “But we’re ready for it. Things are going to get better now. I promise.”

And for the first time in a long time, I truly believe it.