Chapter 111
1012words
"It's taken months, but I think we're finally about to root out all of the corrupt cops on Yannick's payroll," Jonah says as he paces in front of his window. It's a new office, one that's on a higher floor and bigger than the last.
Whatever his complaints about me, our connection has helped lift him up in his career.
I nod as he finishes talking.
"Thank you for working so hard at this."
"Please, it's my pleasure," he chuckles, spreading his arms. "With the new police commissioner's help, this city will be scraped clean. This is a day that's been decades in the making."
Camila casts me a sly look from where she's sitting across the room. She sits everywhere now, her stomach jutting out as the baby threatens to come each new day. Her eyebrows wiggle; she's trying to tell me that Jonah is a piece of work. I agree.
"What happens now?" I ask him.
"All the paperwork is being organized, the records of the Grachev Bratva should be corrected in time. But you need to keep a close lid on things."
I arch a single eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Make sure nobody in your little group steps out of line," he threatens.
If Jonah was demanding before, now he verges on insufferable.
"Sounds like my Bratva have become enforcers for this city you love so much," I taunt. "Almost like a second police force."
He recoils like I've slapped him. "Just because the city owes you a debt of gratitude doesn't mean you should get cocky."
"They're not the only ones who owe me their gratitude," I say lightly, shrugging.
Jonah narrows his eyes. "One of these days, the Grachev Bratva will be dismantled."
"One of these days." Moving towards Camila, I help her to her feet. 'But it's not today. I'll keep the peace. See you around, Jonah."
He has no biting remark. Taking the elevator, I hug onto Camila from behind. My hands instinctively go to her belly where I can feel our baby kicking. It's the best sensation in the world.
"He can be a real prick," Camila giggles.
"Yes. But he's just scared."
"Of what?"
"Of losing what they've won." I escort her through the doors as they open. "Of what they treasure the most."
For Jonah, that's prestige and respect. And for me? Well…
Summer has finally come into its own. Outside, the trees that cluster the sidewalk are saturated with green, waxy leaves. I hold Camila's hand as we walk towards my car, our steps slow as she struggles along.
"Asher."
There's a tremor on her tongue. I pull up short, squinting at her with concern. "What is it?"
She looks down; the front of her leggings are darkened by fluid. She stares up at me with her eyes widening further by the millisecond. "Baby's coming."
I've lived through many things. I was sure, in my arrogance, that there was no emotion I hadn't felt.
Until I'm holding my son.
Blue eyes, deep and mysterious and ever changing, watch me from the face of the smallest human possible. He's minuscule in my arms. I worry that if I breathe wrong, I'll break him. I'm also certain I'll never, ever let any harm come to him. It's a love I've never felt anywhere else.
It rattles me, as if I'm holding my own heart outside of my body.
"He's perfect," I hush.
Camila watches me from the bed with tired eyes. "He really is."
Sitting beside her, I trace my finger over the boy's small arm. It's like pink satin. I try to wedge my finger into his palm, marveling at how little his own fingers are in comparison.
"How did we manage this?" I don't mean to ask it out loud, it just happens.
"Manage what?"
"This." I don't have a better way to phrase it. Camila quietly considers me, ruminating on the question. I consider trying again, but know it's pointless. "We never had time to talk about naming him," I say to change the subject.
"Well," she replies softly. "I just kept avoiding the topic." She sits up on the pillows, reaching out to hold our baby.
"Why would you do that?" I ask. I give him over, feeling the absence of his weight the second he's gone. The primal urge to touch him is powerful.
Cradling our child, Camila rocks him gently, her eyes warm with adoration. "Each day I woke up expecting something bad to happen. I kept thinking that the other shoe was bound to drop eventually. But here we are. Here he is."
My mouth dries out from hearing her sad explanation. "You shouldn't have had to worry like that."
"I'm not worried anymore." Kissing our baby's brow, she sighs gently. "And I have a suggestion for a name."
'Oh?"
'What do you think of Steven? For my father."
"Steven." I smile as I hear myself say it. "I like that. Steven Volkov."
Camila clenches up, the sorrow returning to her eyes. I want to banish that emotion from her forever. "I was worried you wouldn't be for it."
Swinging my head side to side I wrap my arm around her shoulder. We're cuddling on the bed, gazing at our baby. My other hand seeks out hers, linking so our wedding rings click. "Too much of our relationship has been about us being afraid. We didn't enjoy any of the fun parts of marriage or making a family. Hell, we didn't even have a honeymoon."
"True, that usually happens before the baby."
"We're anything but usual." I smile. 'Where would you like to go?"
"What?" She laughs, like what I said was a joke.
"Our honeymoon."
"Oh, you're being serious."
Kissing her cheek, I then kiss Steven's. "I want to take you somewhere special."
Our bodies bend together. We form a triangle, a symbol of strength... a harmony unlike any other. Camila's tone is light as star dust, but her hand clutches my own like steel. "As long as we're together, wherever we go, it will be."
