"The other gang is receiving a nasty surprise from us tomorrow anyway," I explain. "I’m never worried about winning a war. My only fear is losing the woman I love in the crossfire." I gently tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "So from now on, please stop sneaking past my security team. Stop messing with your tracker. I will honestly not survive the stress if this happens again. You are helpful just by being my wife and brightening my mornings. If you need me to kneel again to prove my point, I will gladly do it."
"Alright," she agrees softly. "I’ll behave from now on."
"Good. I want you to go upstairs and take a warm bath," I instruct. "I’ll give you a proper massage afterward."
"I really don’t need a massage right now," she argues mildly.
"I need to give you one because focusing on you will help calm my nerves."
She studies my exhausted face before nodding in agreement. She turns around and heads up the elevator.
I turn my attention back to the guards and call for Ruslan. He steps forward at once. “Tomorrow morning, i want you to send a violent message to our enemies. Make sure every single one of their contacts in Moscow receives a brutal reminder of exactly who controls this city.” He nods in understanding. I straighten my wrinkled jacket, draw a slow breath, and follow my wife upstairs.
I can hear Zoya humming softly inside the bathroom, a sweet, absent sound from someone who believes she’s alone. I prepare the bedroom, pulling the expensive oils from the wooden cabinet and rubbing the bottles between my palms to warm the liquid before laying thick towels across the mattress. A moment later the bathroom door clicks open. Warm steam drifts out as Zoya steps into the bedroom, her hair dried but her body wrapped only in a loose towel. She pauses when she sees the careful setup on the bed.
“This looks incredibly professional,” she teases as she walks over to the mattress and lies down on her back. She carefully pulls the towel up over her chest and tucks the edges in to secure it.
I stare at the unnecessary fabric. “What are you even trying to hide from me?”
“I am protecting my dignity,” she jokes.
I grab the towel, rip it off her body, and toss it across the room. “You don’t need to hide anything in this room.”
“Alexei!” she gasps in surprise.
"I’m going to put oil everywhere, and that fabric is simply in the way," I explain.
I lean over her body to press a soft kiss directly to her stomach, leaving another one right next to it before letting my lips trail slowly across the small bump. Moving higher, I kiss the sensitive skin between her breasts, then take my time with each of her nipples, my mouth gentle and tender against her skin. She shivers happily beneath my touch.
I move further up to press my lips against her collarbone and the side of her neck, tracing her jawline with my mouth before finally capturing her lips in a very slow and deep kiss. I take my time tasting her. When I finally pull away to look at her, her eyes are soft and hazy with desire.
"Now you need to stay still," I whisper.
I pour the scented oil into my palms and rub my hands together to warm the liquid. I reach out to find the tight muscles knotted up in her shoulders, using my thumbs to work out the heavy tension with slow circles and deep pressure.
She groans happily against the sheets. "Oh, my God!”
"Does that feel good?"
“Why did I fight you on this?” she breathes out. “This feels so good. You’re in the wrong line of work—you should be giving massages, not running the Bratva.”
"So you want me to surrender my entire empire just to rub oil on you full time?" I tease her.
“Yes. I really don’t think that would be a bad idea at all.”
I chuckle quietly and slide my hands down to massage her arms and sides, careful when I brush over her ribs and move toward her stomach. I’m gentle here, smoothing the warm oil over the small swell of her belly in slow, tender circles.
I lean down and press my lips to the bump. “Okay kid, emergency family meeting. Your mother has lost her damn mind. I need you to start kicking—preferably when she’s about to do something stupid. Think of it as an early warning system. Can you do that for Papa?”
“Alexei, the baby is the size of a plum and cannot hear you.”
“Plums have ears.”
“What?”
“I don’t know, I’m grasping at straws here, Zoya. You’re giving me a heart attack and I’m trying to recruit our fetus as my ally.” I look back at her stomach. “Please, kid. I’m begging you. Team up with me. I’ll buy you a pony.”
“Stop bribing our unborn child.” she says laughing.