Chapter 33
PASHA
Peeling Daphne off me took more willpower than I expected.
My dick wants me to go a hell of a lot further than just quietly holding her as she dreams. But that’s easy enough to tame. What was much harder- surprisingly so–was how good the rest of me felt.
She just fits so perfectly. Naturally. Like she’s where she belongs.
I swallow back whatever the hell these feelings are and focus on fixing the situation at hand. Once I’m sure she’s sound asleep, I tiptoe out of the bedroom and head for the main living room.
“What could you possibly need?” Mak yawns into his phone. “You’re not running recon, are you?”
“I’ve got a problem.” I flop down onto the suede couch with a heavy sigh.
“So take a pill. Or one of those nighttime cough syrups. I don’t care, as long as I can sleep.”
I ignore his complaining and cut to the chase. “She’s terrified of me, brat.
How the hell is this supposed to work?”
Mak sighs. “Let me guess: you just barged on in without so much as a text.” “It’s my penthouse.”
He can’t see me do it, but I’m glaring at the phone while he laughs his ass off. It’s a solid minute before he calms down enough for me to get a word in edgewise.
“Please tell me she clocked you good. I bet good money she hit you so
fucking hard,” he cackles.
My shoulder still smarts where she hit it with the lamp, but I’m not about to admit anything. “You’re useless.”
“And you’re clueless.” “Watch it.”
“No, no, you don’t get to pull the mob boss bullshit at three in the morning. Not while we’re off–duty. You called me as my brother, so you get my responses as your brother. You’re a dumbass.”
I click my tongue against my teeth. “Do I need to call Sofi instead?”
“She will murder you if you wake her up. I’m your best and only option. And I’m telling you right now,
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Chapter 33
you’re asking for the moon from this woman and wondering why your spaceship keeps crashing.”
“The fuck are you talking about?”
Mak sighs, groans, and sounds like he’s sitting up in his bed. “Dude, I don’t know the first thing about pregnant women. But I do watch a lot of nature shows, so, like… take what you will. Every time. something knows it’s about to have babies, they start nesting, right? Making a home, getting everything set up, making a safe space.”
“Alright.”
“Right. Nice, warm, safe space for baby.” He takes a deep breath. “So what have you been doing lately, hm?”
I frown. “I gave her a safe space. Mine. It’s safe, with me, and has plenty of space.”
“Uh–huh. And how many times did you manipulate her into relocating so you could give her this little love nest of yours?”
“It’s not a love nest.”
“Does she have her own room?”
I glance at the only other bedroom door down the hall. “… No.”
“Did
you turn the second bedroom into a fully furnished nursery for your baby with the hopes that she’ll see how thorough you’re being?”
“Have you been going through my accounts again?”
I can hear Mak’s smirk through the phone. “Let me guess: if she were to walk into that kitchen right now, she’d find it fully stocked with all the best prenatal foods your Google research has come up with. All organic, too.”
“It’s important to be prepared.” He’s really starting to grate on my nerves.
“You literally created a love nest. ‘Look at me, I’m the best mate, I made you a nest with food and shiny rocks! Penguins mate with more subtlety than you.”
“Get to the damn point, man.”
“You made your biggest, bestest love nest to show your intended mate how ideal you are on all the logical terms. But you never once considered that she’s been making her own nest, on her own terms, for the baby she’s carrying. Instead of taking sentimentality into factor, you smashed all over her nest and squawked in her face until she had no choice but to hunker down in yours. So yeah, congrats, you have her right where you want her. But you don’t have her where she wants to be.”
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Boyfriend L
Chapter 33
I despise that he might have a point.
“Fine.” I know when to accept defeat, temporary as it may be. “The hell do I do about this now, though?”
“You don’t do anything; time does. But while you wait for the clock to tick in your favor, maybe do your best to make her feel more at home? And that may mean swallowing your pride and letting her put up some of that
flowery pink shit girls like. Hide your guns. Make the Bratva life feel more like normal life.”
I sit up. “Hide the guns? Are you-”
“Nesting, bro. You’re nesting. Please explain to me how leaving guns out in the open makes a safe space for an infant. You want your heir toothing on a shotgun?”
Again. I’m annoyed at how right he is–and that I’ve been overlooking things that should be obvious to me. Call it nerves, call it being distracted by the siren currently asleep in my bed–whatever it is, it’s affecting me in ways I don’t like one fucking bit.
I blow out a puff of air and stare at the ceiling. “I’ll keep you posted.”
I could go back in there. Curl up beside her, hold her close. Make her feel how safe she is with me.
But Mak might be onto something. In the very least, it wouldn’t hurt to give her some space–and save me the trouble of additional bruises courtesy of weaponized decor.
So I find a few pillows, a throw blanket, stretch out on the couch, and set an alarm for the morning.
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