The Life (3 page)

“Does the meaning of the name have to be terribly important?”

Another graze of his hand over the unblemished plains of her stomach had Viviana’s body turning into a puddle of want and desire. Starting in on her final months of the pregnancy had dimmed her sexual appetite, and she worried her lack of desire would send Anton off running to find it elsewhere. That didn’t happen. Anton seemed to find the things to say or do to have her need for him flaring up with a power she simply couldn’t ignore.
Like now.

“Not if you don’t want it to be,” he said, laying a kiss below her breast. It wasn’t long before he had her shirt pulled up and tossed away, the textbook pushed to the bed sheets. “It just … has to sound strong—feel important. He has to be able to own it.”

“Alexei means defender.”

“That’s nice. You’re getting warmer.”

A few random names that had managed to stick out in Viviana’s memory were on the tip of her tongue. “Vadim?”

Anton made a face. “No.”

“Marat?”

“No, Viviana,” Anton mumbled, kissing the swell of her tender breast. Then, he leaned up and said, “It reminds me of something like Igor. I don’t want to give him a name that doesn’t fit in being said in English. There had to be one name you really liked.”

Viviana pursed her lips, considering the many baby name books she’d read since finding out their baby was a boy. There had been one name, but she wasn’t sure if it would fit well for a Russian Bratva child. Especially for theirs, considering the Avdonins seemed to really prefer their names to be wholly Russian and well suited to the child.

“Well, how about
Demyan?” Viviana was thoroughly enjoying the view of Anton tugging off his shirt. Her husband froze, the action making her nerves grow. “I mean, I know it’s the equivalent of Damien in a way, but it still has that Russian ring and style. It’s strong and fits in. I kind of liked that one. But if you don’t, then that’s okay.”

“
Demyan.” Anton tilted his head, his fingers drumming a tantalizing beat to her side. “And what about for the rest?”

“I think the middle names should reflect the footsteps he’s following, because you can say he’s making his own way all you want, but he’s still an
Avdonin. Your middle name is Daniil, and I really wanted your given name somewhere in there. So if we add in Daniil, it’s almost a repeat of yours, anyway. You don’t want that. So, Anton Nicoli for the middle, then.”

“Say it for me, all of it. I want to hear it from you first.”

“Demyan Anton Nicoli Avdonin,” Viviana said, smiling nervously. Names were so important, especially for this boy she carried. After all, it would be his first title, and whether she wanted to admit it or not, so much was already expected for Anton’s son. “What do you think?”

The flash of his movement as he leaned down over her, his face coming to stop just a millimeter from hers, was a flurry in her vision. The brilliant grin overtaking his features washed every worry she had down the drain. When his hands weaved into her hair, his thumbs sweeping along her neck, Viviana sighed into his touch. Instantly, she was relaxed again

“You like?” Viviana asked, breathless.

“
Love
,” Anton said fiercely. “It’s fucking perfect.”

Chapter Two

Anton tossed a wrench hatefully to the floor. “I’d rather be shot in the face than deal with this crap.”

He was completely exasperated. Every damned ounce of patience that was left in his body disappeared. Anton didn’t think he could take another minute of this shit before he totally blew his top.

“Why does this have to be so hard?” Anton asked the empty room.

Well, he thought it was empty.

The snickering from the doorway drew in his narrowed, aggravated gaze to where his lawyer stood with half of a cookie shoved in his mouth. At the sight of Anton’s growing anger, Ivan shrugged apologetically and took a step inside the room. Looking around at the mess scattered across the floor, the older man didn’t seem to know what to say.

“You’ve built three of these goddamn things so come fix this for me,” Anton barked.

“Nope.”

“Ivan!”

“Nope, I did not build them,” Ivan said, cocking his eyebrow. “I came home one day and they were already set up. Eva did it without a lick of my help and never fails to remind me.”

Turning to glare at the offending wooden and metal pieces scattered over the floor, Anton had absolutely no idea how he managed to get himself in this predicament. Running guns, getting the narcotics past authorities, and keeping his business and guys in line was his thing, not
this
.

Even the fucking directions were in Chinese!

Not really, but they might as well have been.

Defeated, Anton heaved a sigh. “This is pointless.”

Ivan swallowed the last bit of his sweet. “No, it isn’t. You’re just pissed off because everything else comes easy for you and this hasn’t.”

That was a little bit true. Anton couldn’t help it that he wasn’t the kind of guy who had tools in the shed and the basic understanding of how to work a fucking wrench. That wasn’t the values and life lessons he’d learned growing up. If Viviana walked in and saw him now, she’d probably laugh herself into labor.

“I feel like an idiot,” Anton said, sitting down to the floor.

Sounding just as bleak, Ivan muttered, “I did, too.”

“Eva did it for you, remember?”

A bitter laugh chimed in the room. The silence that followed the laughter felt awkward, and Anton wondered if maybe he crossed a line with his friend, but Ivan only shook his head and chuckled. Bending down, Ivan picked up a bolt and twirled it between his fingers.

“Yeah, she did, but not until after I tried to set one up myself. The damned thing was a deathtrap waiting to happen. My pride wouldn’t let me call my father and say, “hey, can you come down here and teach me how to set up a baby’s crib?” I mean, it’s a fucking crib. Just wood and bolts.” Ivan waved at the pieces of what should have been set up an hour ago if Anton knew anything about what he was doing. “It can’t be that hard, right? Yeah, whatever. I spent a decade getting the education I have and spent a couple hundred grand making sure I got the best one, but not a lick of it got me ready for this shit, or parenthood.”

“I wish I could call
Daniil. He’d tell me to suck it the fuck up and get it done.”

That was really all Anton needed; his father to say he was acting like a spoiled man, and to handle his stuff. Unfortunately,
Daniil wouldn’t be spending any time outside of the hospital unless it was in his casket. That only served to have Anton’s sadness rising. Simply thinking about not having his father around for things like setting up his son’s crib or a late night phone call when he didn’t know what to do after Demyan was born was a dreary prospect. One that broke his heart to pieces.

Sure, he would still have his mother, but there was a whole different facet to the relationship Anton shared with
Daniil. Be it the way his father raised Anton, the Bratva lifestyle, or the secrets each man carried for the other, their father and son relationship went a little deeper than others.

“Is this really about the crib?” Ivan asked. “Or is it something else, too?”

Anton blinked away the miserable expression he must have been sporting and slid on one of his usual masks. “What the fuck are you, my therapist?”

Ivan didn’t bite onto the jibe. “No, I’m your friend, so quit with the attitude.”

Fuck, Anton hated feeling shit. When it came to emotions, he would much rather just bottle it up and store it away for a rainy day when some asshole in the Bratva pushed the boss past his limits.

“Have you talked to Vine about whatever is going on with you?”

Glancing away with a grimace, Anton said, “A little.”

“And?”

“And what? She’s got enough going on, Ivan. I don’t want to stress her out with nonsense right now. Between being pregnant, her classes at the university, trying to get ready for her final exams before the baby is born, and now last week with the feds suddenly photographing her? My wife has enough to deal with without me adding to it.”

“Well, that’s crap if I ever heard it.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, it is,” Ivan said just as sharp. “Think about it, that girl knows you better than anyone, and you’re telling me she’s sitting back oblivious to the fact that you’re clearly bothered by something.
Absolute
crap
.”

Not wanting to dwell on the elephant in the room, Anton began tinkering away with what little bit of the crib he already had set up. Purposely ignoring Ivan, he somehow managed to get the four walls of the crib to stay up long enough for him to loosely place the bolts where they needed to go along the bottom. Without saying a word, Ivan was suddenly kneeling down beside Anton, steadying the structure as the younger man began placing washers along threaded steel and tightening the nuts to the backs of the bolts.

“I’m really going to miss my father,” Anton whispered, keeping his eyes on his work.

“Yeah, I know.”

“It sucks even more right now because it’d be great to have my dad as just my dad for once, without all the other bullshit we usually had to deal with around it, you know?”

“Yep.”
Moving out of Anton’s way so the younger man could start tightening the other side, Ivan said, “But I think you know as well as I do that you had a pretty great father in Daniil. It’s not like you’re going into this completely blind.”

“Still scary as hell.”

“Yep,” Ivan repeated.

Twenty minutes later, the white crib rested in the spot Viviana had asked for Anton to place it. On either ends of the bed where they curved with high, rounded edges, a crown had been carved into the wood. From the ceiling to the floor hung sheer fabric to match the colors of the furniture,
surrounding the crib in the billowy material. With the crib sitting opposite to the window, sunlight would grace the baby every morning he woke up.

Fit for a king but made for a little prince.

Despite Anton’s earlier frustration over his lack of skills in the building department, the crib was as sturdy as it was going to get, and he was a little more than pleased at his work.

“Didn’t you already have to put one of these together for your bedroom?” Ivan asked as Anton lowered the small mattress to the bottom of the crib.

“When were you in my bedroom?” The warning couldn’t be hidden.

Ivan guffawed. “You are the worst, do you know that? I have never met a man as jealous as you. I don’t know how Vine puts up with it.”

“Shut up. That’s my bedroom. I share it with my
wife
. No other man needs to be inside of it.”

“I wasn’t in your bedroom, asshole,” Ivan said, laughing. “Vine told Eva about the bassinet she came home to. So, I assumed when you asked me to come help you today that you already knew what the fuck you were doing.”

Anton refused to acknowledge the dig. The gift in question wasn’t so much a bassinet as it was a miniature, circular crib. Carefully designed to match ornate carvings on Anton and Viviana’s four poster bed, he meant for it to be something they could pass down to their children.

“I ordered that in from Russia. Cost me a pretty penny. It was all made by hand and it
came put together. All I needed to do was take the damned thing out of the box.”

“I heard she liked it.”

“That she did.” Anton grinned at the memory of Viviana’s joy when she came home to find the little cubby in their bedroom furnished. It had been only one of his gifts to her, but it was the one she enjoyed the very most. So far. “Worth the cost, anyway.”

“So …” Ivan trailed off, grinning conspiratorially. “Did you two pick a name, yet?”

“Yep.”

“And?”

Having already decided to keep the name to themselves until after Demyan was born, Anton warned Viviana their friends and family wouldn’t leave them alone about it. His mother, in particular, had all but demanded she be told as soon as they picked it out.

“And?”
Ivan demanded again.

Anton shrugged, striking out with a playful punch to his friend’s arm. “And it’s perfect.”

*

Viviana rested into Anton’s side as they strolled through Little Odessa at a leisurely pace. While she had always called the neighborhood Brighton Beach, after a few trips through the place, she had been quick to adopt the nickname that everyone else called it as well.

Brighton Beach Avenue was bustling with activity. Voices carried through the streets, laughter ringing out high or deep. The shopkeepers had theirs doors opened wide, allowing in the cool air from the breeze sweeping the area. Seagull squawks became louder the closer they came to the boardwalk. In the distance, the life of Coney Island beginning to take shape in the background.

At first, Viviana was concerned she wouldn’t fit into Brighton Beach as well as Anton did. Maybe it was due to the fact that growing
up, she hadn’t visited the area once. It wasn’t as if that had been by choice, but it didn’t make a difference to the end result. Not a soul made her feel out of place when she walked the streets with her husband, or even without him.

“Anton, my boy, come!” someone shouted. A single look to the side showed one of the many restaurant owners leaning in the doorway of his place, his hand waving at the couple. “Hurry, now.”

With a questioning look down at Viviana, Anton conveyed his silent request. She nodded, and they crossed the road quickly, her hand still tucked into the warmth of his elbow. Drawing her closer into his side, Anton kissed Viviana’s temple before tightening the belt on her tweed coat.

“Look at you.” The man appraised Viviana, his voice heavily accented with his Georgian dialect. Giving only enough to pause to glance at Anton when his large hand came close to the roundness of her midsection, he asked, “May I?”

Anton shrugged. “Ask her, Gio.”

It wasn’t unusual for people in Brighton to want to be close to Viviana. It was as if communication between the residents fell somewhere in line with physical contact. It also wasn’t strange for them to know her by name or face, even if she hadn’t met them before. Little Odessa was a tight-knit community where everyone knew everyone else, and because of Anton’s family, he was one of the most recognizable. He was also one of the most respected. However, whether that was attributed to fear, Viviana wasn’t sure.

“May I, sweetheart?” Gio asked Viviana.

“Sure,” she said, smiling.

When the shopkeeper’s hand rested down to the top of her midsection, the baby boy inside seemed to wake up at the contact. The movement from the baby must have pleased Gio. His face lit up and his old, grey eyes wrinkled at the corners, causing Viviana to beam with happiness as well.

“Healthy, then?”
Gio asked.

“From what we can tell,” Anton said. “He’s certainly more than big and strong enough.”

“I had heard he was a boy. I’ll have to spread word that it is indeed a fact. I’m sure Nicoli would have been so pleased.”

Unsure if that had been said for her or Anton, Viviana chose to stay quiet. Anton, on the other hand, did not. “I hope so.”

“
Baruch dayan emet
,” Gio said, a frown tugging his mouth down.

She didn’t understand the words, but Anton seemed to. A brief flicker of sadness crossed his handsome features. Viviana swallowed back her own rising sorrow at the sight. Sometimes that happened as well on their travels through Little Odessa. Someone was always remembering who had once walked before them, and while their words weren’t meant to hurt, but rather console, at times they still did.
At least for Anton, anyway.

“It’s been a long time.” Anton responded with a shaky exhale that took Viviana by surprise. “You don’t have to recite that to me, now. You know I don’t follow the religion, either.”

“I know.” Gio nodded, rubbing his hand once more along the top of Viviana’s stomach. “But Nicoli did, my boy.”

“Yes, well—”

“Oh! One minute,” Gio interrupted Anton, pulling his hand away and grinning conspiratorially at Viviana. “I have something for you, sweetheart. I think your palate will thank me for this later.”

Only disappearing
long enough for Anton to pull her back into his side and replace the empty spot on her swelled stomach with his own hand, Gio was back in the doorway once more. In his hand, he held something wrapped in white, wax paper. Passing it to her with a smile, Gio winked.