Page 64 of Forced Mafia Bride
Lifting a brow, I looked down at her pretty face. “For what?”
Rosalyn sighed. “I found your words comforting. You know, after losing him, I was trapped with my brothers and wanted nothing more than a life without them in it. I have that wish granted, and I am glad I am with you.”
Before I could stop it, a snort passed my lips.
“Hey, what was that for?”
I looked straight ahead. Avian and another man were passing by the pathway, and when their eyes met mine, they whispered between themselves and hurried their steps.
“Lately, it doesn’t seem like it.”
“It doesn’t seem like what?”
“Like you’re glad you are with me. I am always getting on your nerves, and we sleep in silence.”
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s not been the easiest journey navigating through this.” She pointed at her protruding belly, earning a short laugh from me.
The spontaneous instinct to touch her kicked in, and my hand moved on its own will, covering her small hand over her belly. She smiled up at me, her glassy green eyes twinkling when she said, “Can you feel it? It moved.”
“You meanhemoved.”
She swatted my arm and sat up straight. “What if the scan was wrong and our little miracle turns out to be a girl?”
“You don’t hear me arguing; the love will be the same. I’m just excited to meet our baby boy.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
“You know, we should name him after your dad,” I suggested, remembering her stories about her father.
She looked up, eyes wide and lips parted. “What? You’d really do that?”
I nodded, enjoying the glow of joy that quickly spread through her face.
“Perfect! I think I already have a name. Father’s name was Cedric, so I’m thinking…something similar?”
“Like?”
“Cian Nikolai—after him and you.”
Laughing, I hugged her close, feeling my chest swell with pride, and kissed her forehead. “Then, Cian Nikolai, it is.”
Chapter 25 – Rosalyn
By the time the chicken was cooked, the kids were already halfway through stuffing their faces with burgers and fries. Swaying her hips with purposeful strides and feminine grace, Freya emerged from the kitchen with thick muffins in one tray and brownies in another, and behind her, her husband, Egor, had the decorated tray of grilled chicken.
The house buzzed with Yezhovs everywhere: distant cousins, cousins, uncles, and aunties. Children played around the house, a few of them running around with water guns and being yelled at by their mothers to take the gun fight outside.
It was fun to watch everyone mingling, like small worlds in a much larger one. The older girls, perfect Generation-Z representations, went upstairs for privacy while the boys played sports outside.
I stuck closer to Freya and Yezhov, embracing the warmth that came with their side talks and laughter. A few men were gathered on the table, bantering in their language, but we paid them no heed.
Alina was the first to spot the brownies her mother dropped on the table. With giddy excitement, she abandoned her plate of unfinished fries and rushed to take one out of the tray. Freya smacked her hand away with playful affection and turned her away from the table, earning a low chuckle from Egor, who was now seated at the head of the table, and ready to eat.
“We had a deal, girlie. Burgers and fries in exchange for my scrumptious dinner. You and your brother chose the former.”
Alexei jogged up to his sister’s side, and as if they’d pre-planned it, they whined together in one voice. “But the food took so much time.”
The duo were the cutest pair I’d seen. It had been an hour since Niko and I arrived at his brother’s house for dinner and, in that hour, the children had been the most entertaining to watch, running between their parents’ legs and offering to help even if their father insisted they sit this one out, in order to not get hurt.