The Life (16 page)

Without really saying it, Anton had also just told Viviana that Rory and Joe wouldn’t be back for several hours, likely well after midnight.

“How?” she managed to ask.

Anton stepped behind Viviana’s form, saying nothing. Viviana wondered if he would tell her at all, but she forgot those thoughts the moment his fingertips wove into her hair and trailed tenderly in a back and forth motion on her skin. When his warm smell danced along her flesh, she sighed.

“The guys helped a lot—I owe them big. They’re probably the only two men who have a personal viewing to our daily lives. They eat with us, sleep in our home occasionally, keep to the shadows, and help me to protect you. In a way, they know us, too. Rory, especially, was more than happy to help.” 

Wringing her hands and suddenly feeling unsure and nervous as to what she should do next, Viviana found herself lost to the movement of the swaying flames. In every way that counted, she was overwhelmed. From the fast pace of her heart, to the unknown emotions swirling around in her chest, to the choked sensation holding back her air. Anton caught her totally off guard and she didn’t know how to react about at all.

It was lovely, amazingly thoughtful, and Viviana was so grateful.

As his arms wrapped around her trembling figure, his hands lacing over her stomach, and his chin rested to her shoulder, Anton grew silent. It seemed like he wasn’t even breathing for a second, like he was absorbing the shock from her, too.

“This is …” Viviana couldn’t find the words, but her heart was filled, pumping out love by the gallon as slivers of tears escaped from her eyes. “Thank you.”

“No, I don’t want to hear that. Not right now.” When his arms tightened, pulling her closer, Viviana sank into his hug as a quiet sob broke free from her throat. Grazing his hand affectionately over her swelled middle, palm pressing down protectively, Anton placed a kiss to the side of her throat. “Thank
you
, baby. Your body, your love, your life—those are the things you share with me. Every single day you share those things and the only thing you ask in return is for me to show you that I love you, too.”

Viviana was straight spun. Her heart was beating to the tune of his heartfelt words, while her soul was twisting to reach out and find his. Laying her arms over his to feel more of his heat and have more of their skin touching, she let the topsy-turvy emotional waves wash over her freely.

Anton took a deep breath, smiling against her hair. “There’s nothing in the world that I could give to repay you for carrying my child. I know that sometimes you think he makes you crazy and terrible, but for me, he makes you amazing and beautiful. This is my first child—my
son
—and the greatest woman in the world is giving him to me. A woman whom I love more than what should be possible. And without even knowing him, I already love him. That’s pretty damned incredible to me. Also, I lied.”

At that moment, Viviana didn’t care what he did wrong. She forced herself to speak, but her words still came out breathless.
“About what?”

“The things I said I didn’t get for you.” It took her a moment to understand what Anton was getting at, but he continued before she had the chance to refute his offerings. When his finger trailed along her neck where a chain would rest, a shiver rolled over her shoulders, causing him to chuckle deeply in response. “Well, the jewelry, of course. I think had I bought you another car—”

“I don’t need another car,” she grumbled half-heartedly.

“Oh, I know.”

The distinct sound of his sharp inhale as Anton leaned down to graze his mouth along the shell of Viviana’s ear echoed. Something wonderful and wicked was beginning to rouse in her body. Beneath the yoga shorts she had slipped back on, her sex was already throbbing, wet, and hot. She didn’t know if that had been her husband’s intention, but he was sure as hell working her up to it quickly enough.

“But,” Anton added, popping the word from his mouth. “I was looking into a private jet last month. If I wanted to take my family out of the country for a vacation, I couldn’t do it publicly due to my lack of a passport because of those weapons charges.”

“You bought a jet for me?” Viviana asked, trying to wrap her mind around that little tidbit of information. Nope, she still couldn’t do it. “That’s insane.”

“
Us
. And no, not yet, it should go through next month sometime. Fly to Jamaica to smoke some of the best grass we can find, hmm? England, maybe, so I can see my son standing on the steps of a palace like the prince he is. I intend to see you sprawled out on a white sand beach, baby, looking like fucking sin in not a thing but your skin.”

Jesus Christ, Viviana wasn’t getting enough oxygen.

The quietest click of beads hitting together caught her attention, but the nip of Anton’s teeth to her jaw made it all disappear. At the same time, something cool slid around Viviana’s neck and she reached up automatically to touch the item.

The smooth globes under her fingertips ranged in size from small, to medium, to large depending on how high or low she felt along the three stranded ropes of pearls. Looking down to where the long strands reached below the hollow of her neck, Viviana lifted up the ropes enough to see the pearls were a pretty grey. At the base of the back of her neck, Anton’s hands touched down with the faintest of grazes before something slightly heavier than the jewelry itself rested against her skin. While keeping her one hand on the pearls, she reached back to feel the diamond encased clasp that held the links together.

Viviana still couldn’t speak. Anton filled the silence for her.

“Pearls are the queen of gems, and it’s often said they are the chosen gem of queens. So, it’s most appropriate that I give my queen her first pair at one of the most beautiful times in her life. I thought about giving you these after
Demyan was born, but I think now is better, no?”

Only a faint nod answered him back. Anton laughed low, running his fingers tentatively along her new accessory before he spoke again. “From the day he is born, and on that same day every month until his first birthday, there will be flowers delivered to our home. For the first year, they will include letters. For every year after, you will receive flowers on his birthday.” 

She felt the air leave her lungs in a shaky puff. “You didn’t—”

“Oh, I’m not finished yet. Some of these things have been in the works for a while. This,” he said, touching her pearls, “… for example. Others, like the lodge, tonight, and Scarlett, were last minute thoughts that somehow managed to come together for me. Somebody is looking out for us, Viviana.
Or just you.”

“The only thing I did was get pregnant, Anton.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

No, Viviana didn’t, but making sense of his worship of her would be a heck of a lot easier if it was that simple. If she was any other normal woman with a regular husband who didn’t have the means and mode to buy things eighteen years’ worth of flowers, pearls that probably cost more than a house, a jet, and—wait, he did say there was more …

“That old bookstore in Little Odessa you visit every couple of months to stock up your collection?”

Viviana turned around in his arms, surprised he even knew about that. It wasn’t that she kept it from him, but Anton wasn’t exactly a huge reader unless it was something dealing with weapons.
Although he would act as her pillow while she read. A hard pillow.

“How did you know?”

Anton smiled down at her, the mischief in his blue eyes lighting up his whole face as he traced her bottom lip with his finger. “You kept leaving piles of books in our bedroom until you had a whole stack in the corner. It’s not like I have a bookshelf sitting around, Vine. Where did you think that came from, anyway? It didn’t just magically appear. While I ordered that, I wondered where in the hell you were getting all of those books from. Joe offhandedly mentioned the bookstore you frequented, so I went from there.”

Viviana was scared to ask, but she did anyway.
“And?”

“Did you know Mr. Lander’s wife is sick?”

Viviana nodded, remembering the man speaking about it. He’d been terribly sad because the bookstore had been for his wife—built over fifty years earlier in the beginning of their marriage, it was her dream to own and run one successfully because she loved to read.

“Well, I didn’t,” Anton said, frowning. “I should have. Harold’s wife was a good friend of my grandmother Anna.
Nicoli’s wife. Sometimes in the midst of running in the new world, I forget about those who helped run the old one, however it was that they did it. Sandra helped my grandmother once or twice before Nicoli came into the picture, back when her first husband was beating the living hell out of her on a nightly basis.”

“Small world.”

“Yeah, I guess. I thought I should go in and say hello to him one afternoon after I realized that was the place you were buying all your books from. Harold told me about Sandra, which just …”

“Hurt?” Viviana asked softly.

Anton frowned again. “Nicoli would have done anything for Sandra because of what she did for my grandmother. In fact, he did—they almost lost the bookstore a few years before he died and he cleared their debt no questions asked. He didn’t want a damned thing in return, either. It had nothing to do with the Bratva, just him being a friend because he had the ability to do so for someone his wife had once loved.”

“That was pretty great of him.”

“It was.” Sighing, Anton leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “So, I guess it was ironic that it also happened to be the place my wife found comfort, too. Especially because Harold needs to sell the place to help pay for his wife’s hospital stays and treatments. Again, the new world and the old one intermingling. It wasn’t expected of me to help, or even to consider it, but it wouldn’t have felt okay with me had I not. They’ll be able to enjoy their last couple of years together, without worrying about money, or stress, or their business.

“I visited Sandra, too—she’s in the same hospital as
Daniil, coincidentally. It’s crazy, her and Harold, I mean. Years later and they’re so in love, even sick and dying and losing each other in one way or another.”

“A lot like your mom and dad,” Viviana said, feeling a sentimental smile take hold of her cheeks.

“Yeah, that, too. A lot like what I thought of us in fifty, maybe sixty years, too.”

“Did you buy me the bookstore?”

Anton smirked sinfully, the sight making Viviana’s insides swirl with desire. “Yep. I know you want to go to finish school eventually, and I’m sure you will, but Demyan is going to put a slow to that for a while. This bookstore … it’s not mine. You’re also not one to sit in the house and do nothing but be a housewife—you need to feel like you’re doing something, Vine. It has to be something you enjoy, also. I sincerely hope the bookstore will give you that, and the ability to keep our son closer all the while.”

“I …”

Seemingly seeing her difficulty of creating speech, Anton held her close, tucking her face into his chest as arms enclosed her frame. “So, tonight, we’ll do whatever you want to do. Dance, love, relax—whatever, Vine. We’ll try to come back here at least once a year, and I’m not going to use it as a safe place when I need you out of state, just a getaway for our family. I know you how much you’ve come to like it. Nicoli gave it to Daniil, he gave it to me, and eventually, I’ll give it to Demyan, too.”

God, Viviana wished her mind would come up with something appropriate to say. Something as heartfelt as his, something to make her seem grateful for the time, extravagance, and beauty of his words, gifts, and love—anything at all.
But, nope. Nothing came. Speechless again, the only thing Viviana could do was cry. Anton let her.

“Thank you for giving me our child, Viviana.”

Chapter Twelve

There was a man in Anton’s bedroom.

Viviana was downstairs reorganizing all the cupboards in the kitchen, of course, but still.

There was a man in his
bedroom
.

Anton was twitchy. Or his trigger finger was.

“Boy, you better quit glaring at those stairs like you expect them to fall in on themselves.” Clarissa kept her eyes on her dusting while scolding. “I thought your week away would have rid some of that tension of yours.”

Anton appreciated how Viviana had managed to bring their maid out of her introverted shell. Before, Clarissa addressed him as sir, no matter how many times he asked her not to. She had always been properly respectful and kept her distance. Now, she was more like family, and she didn’t let Anton get away with a single fucking thing.

“There’s a man in my bedroom.”

“That’s the fourth time you’ve muttered that in the last twenty minutes. He’s been up there for an hour. Is it really bothering you that badly?”

Yes
, Anton thought petulantly. There was nothing he hated more than the thought of another male even coming near the marital bed he shared with his wife. Anton didn’t know where that little issue of his stemmed from, but it had his blood fucking boiling. Irrational? Maybe. That didn’t make the problem any less real.

“Well, how about I call your mother and let her verbally smack you back into this century. Or better yet …” Clarissa said lightly, cocking a brow at her boss, “I could go in the kitchen and tell your pregnant wife that while she’s been fretting and nesting for the last week, you’re sitting here being jealous over the man who is painting your bedroom mural instead of helping her.”

Goddamn it.

“You wouldn’t call Sasha,” Anton replied, not wanting to call Clarissa on whether or not she’d tell Viviana. She probably would.

“Try me. Go help your wife and leave the poor painter alone, Anton.”

Sighing heavily, he crossed his arms and glared at the stairs for a while longer.

Perhaps Anton wouldn’t have been so agitated about the man if his week hadn’t been so damned stressful. While the week long getaway to Vermont had been beneficial for him and Viviana in more ways than one, it had also left things on hold back in New York. Too many things. Nobody would or could do a whole hell of a lot on the business side of things if the boss wasn’t around to give the okay.

Well, the boss hadn’t been answering calls unless they weren’t for business, so shit didn’t get done. Now, Anton was backed up to the nuts. It was making him freaking
crazy for Christ’s sake. He really needed to give Erik and Ivan a little more leeway with their positions and stop taking so much of the responsibility himself—that was all there was to it.

It certainly didn’t help that Anton was still worrying about the possibility of one of his guys making plans to kill him. He had been pushing that to the side of his mind, though, attempting to see it from a different perspective. Unfortunately, he had only been able to see it from his own and he hadn’t yet confessed his suspicions to anyone else.

The annoying little issue that was Tatiana seemed to die, thank God. Since he’d been back, there was no random appearances, no attempt for contact. Nothing. Anton was grateful, but he was suspicious, too.

So, there were those things, and then there was Sergei.

The stupid, Russian fool.

The Jersey
Pakhan still wasn’t taking calls. Or better yet, he wasn’t refusing a sit down. After all, he couldn’t refuse one if he wasn’t asked to have one. Sergei had been playing this game for far too long, and Anton was goddamn well sick of it. Anton assumed because of Boris asking around about Tatiana, that it must have got the other man’s panties in a twist over something.

It made Anton nervous.

A good face to face should always happen after something happens to mix the blood between bosses in a bad way.

“What do you mean?” Anton asked, trying to forget his mafia problems for a while.

Clarissa rested her duster against her thigh. “Pardon me?”

“You said she was nesting. What in the hell does that mean?”

It wasn’t like he’d ever heard of it before. What did nesting have anything to do with her reorganizing every freaking inch of their kitchen … and the bathrooms, and their walk-in closet, and the baby’s room—four times in a week? If you added that into the sudden urge to clean Viviana had, Anton wondered when in the hell she found time to study for her exams coming up the following week.

“
Nesting
, Anton. Didn’t you read those books she gave to you?”

Anton stared at Clarissa like she’d grown a second head. Viviana didn’t say he had to read the books just that he should. So, he didn’t … well, most of them. “They don’t have guns in them.”

“You’re a riot. Really. The birth should be fun for you.”

“Why?”

“You’re just like your grandfather. You have two places your mind goes—family, and
the
family. That’s it. If it isn’t about guns and money, or wives and homes, you don’t want to hear it.”

Anton didn’t think that was a bad thing.
“Fine. I’m going to go ask Viviana what nesting means.”

Clarissa huffed, blowing a curl out of her eye in the process. “You men … I swear. She probably doesn’t even know she’s doing it, Anton. It’s getting close to the end, or at least her body and mind thinks it is. It’s like her subconscious way of getting her ready for the baby. She’s cleaning every speck of dirt and dust out of this house, making things easier for herself once he’s here, and tiring herself out so she can sleep a good ten hours every night.”

Anton had to give Clarissa credit, what she said made a lot of sense. He hadn’t even considered that was Viviana’s motherly instincts coming out to play, but given her sudden need to have a list of things for him to do when he returned home from the club, well … yeah.

“Huh.”

Turning back to stare in the direct vicinity of the man in his bedroom, Anton wished the painter would hurry the hell up and get out. It was still plucking at his nerves like someone was using them as an instrument, and not in a good way.

“The painter isn’t even bothering your bed, Anton. He’s just painting the wall in the baby’s cubby. Now stop being bitter for no reason and make yourself useful. Perhaps you could—”

“Go help Vine, Anton,” he said under his breath.

Everybody always needed to pick at Anton’s jealousy. As if he could help it, honestly.

“You said it, not me.”

The quiet, bluesy melodies singing through the kitchen had Anton smiling as he made his way in that direction. Viviana had her head stuck in the cupboards beside the sink, her hips swaying to
the beat as the lyrics rolled off her tongue. Anton didn’t get to hear his wife sing as often as he liked—she had a beautiful voice, even if she didn’t think so.

Also, Anton wondered where she got that love for blues from.
Nicoli had once enjoyed the tone, emotion, and soul to the music and had several favorite bars he liked to frequent to hear it sung live, but his daughter didn’t know that.

“
Nicoli used to love that noise, too,” Anton said, coming up behind his wife.

Viviana must have heard his approach, or knew he had been watching, as she didn’t start in fright. “It’s not noise. You like it.”

Resting his hands to those still swinging hips of hers, Anton moved to the tune of the beat, feeling Viviana press her backside into his groin as she danced. It wasn’t long before he was peppering kisses up the side of her silky, soft neck and one of her hands were weaving into the hair at the nape of his.

Time didn’t much matter to Anton when they were like this. It was far too easy for him to get lost in the rocking sway of her shoulders, the smell of floral perfume, and the heat of her skin on his. With Anton’s nose skimming behind her ear, her back melting into his front, he decided the best music in the room was her soft, contented sigh.

“What, are you suddenly in the mood to dance, Anton?”

Laughing low, he spun Viviana around so she could face him.
“With you, always.”

“Well, I have a lot of work to finish in here, so …”

“We’ve got a little while to get it done.”

Her lips curved with a playful smile. “Three weeks.”

Yes, only three. Their son would make his debut exactly on his due date, according to the doctor. Viviana had her appointment three days earlier and they were pleased the insulin seemed to be working to her favor, and Demyan’s. After the doctor checked Viviana’s cervix—something that made Anton cringe and rage at the same time—she wasn’t showing any signs of delivering soon. Not wanting to risk her going overdue, they set up an appointment for her to be at labor and delivery early in the morning on July fifth to be induced.

Anton couldn’t believe May had already passed them by and that June was there and leaving just as quickly.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Good. The pressure from this morning is finally gone.”

“And the pain?”

“Better,” she said.

Eyeing her speculatively, Anton wondered if Viviana was just saying that to appease his worry. She’d woken up around four in the morning out of breath, tears filling her eyes, and with what she described as a horrible ache in her hips. An early morning phone call to the doctor said it was likely just the weight of the baby settling into an uncomfortable spot and to walk until he repositioned himself.

So, Viviana had been on her feet all day. Anton didn’t like that.

While Anton loved seeing his wife pregnant, glowing, and so full of life like she was, he also knew it was taking a hell of a lot out of her body. Pregnancy was not an easy thing to get through, he’d come to learn. Not that he didn’t have respect for his wife before, but she had it from him in the bucketful now.

“Come on, go sit down and let me finish putting this away for you.” Leaning down, he caught her silken mouth with his. “Please?”

Her tongue swept along his bottom lip before slipping in to join his. Anton reveled in the taste of her kiss, the way her lips pressed harder, and her heat started a stirring in his groin. Fuck, how he loved his wife. Viviana fisted his t-shirt to bring him closer. Anton braced his hands to the counter and kissed his wife a little longer.

He could fight to get her to sit down in a minute.

“How about I go lay down in bed, and after you finish putting the rest of this stuff away, you can come join me?” Viviana nipped his jaw.

Anton froze. “No.”

Oh, the slap of rejection that colored her cheeks a bright pink had him backtracking instantly.

“Shit, that’s not at all what I meant and you know it, baby. The painter is still up there finishing the last bit of the mural and the room probably reeks of fumes. We’ll probably sleep in the guestroom tonight.”

Viviana glanced down at where his fingers were squeezing into her sides. “Why do you have a death grip on me?”

Anton loosened his hold. “I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No—”

“You do that whenever someone gets too close to me.”

“Viviana, it’s just you and me here.”

Something wicked curved Viviana’s pretty, pink lips up into a grin. A grin that said she knew exactly what was going on with him. Apparently Anton hadn’t been hiding it well enough. “There’s a man in our bedroom.”

Anton scowled, letting the lie roll off his tongue before he could stop it. “It’s not bothering me that bad.”

“Really? Well, I’ll just go up and say hello, then. After all, he is using that special paint that doesn’t give off as much smell. He’s got two fans working and the windows open. I’ll be fine for a minute or … five.”

“Fuck that you will.”

Without even considering his actions, Anton picked Viviana up abruptly and sat her backside firmly on the kitchen counter. He leveled her with a stare that gave away every single one of his feelings when it came to what she just suggested. Those doe-eyes of hers only blinked back mirth at his jealous flare.

“My wife will
not
be in our bedroom alone with any man that isn’t me, Viviana.”

“Ever?” she asked.

Anton’s hands slapped the counter. “
Vine
.”

“Some people think you’re scary when you’re mad. I think it’s cute.”

Cute. Great
, Anton thought.

Rubbing circles into his quickly throbbing temples, Anton stepped between his wife’s opened legs and met her gaze once more. “Please don’t go up there.”

“You know I wouldn’t, Anton.”

There was nothing Anton was more grateful for than
Viviana’s understanding. Some might have called his jealousy irrational, and sure, he knew it kind of was. Viviana never gave him any reason to be worried—she was as true and loyal to him as she would ever be. She was crazy, foolishly in love with him, too, no matter his ridiculousness at times.