Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“Why?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.
I look away, struggling to articulate my feelings. “I don’t know.”
I tell myself I don’t want to have swollen ankles and heartburn and stretch marks. But the truth is, I really don’t know why I don’t want children. There’s a part of me that really, really does. I love holding babies, kissing their sweet little heads. The way they hold your finger when they sleep and how adorably they smile and coo. It’s not that I don’t want babies…just maybe not right now.
And I always envisioned having babies with a man I actually love. My voice is a bit tighter than I intend when I snap back at him. “I just don’t want babies right now, okay?”
His face grows serious. “My family will expect it.”
“Really?” I ask, curiosity piqued. God, of course they do.
“We are strengthening our roots by having children. Growing in numbers.” He shakes his head. “I want you to want the children, though.”
I purse my lips. “Why is that?”
A muscle tenses in his jaw. Before he responds, he takes our plates, stacks them, and lines up the napkins before placing them on a tray.
“Because children aren’t commodities.” Ooh. That touched a nerve. “My father treated us like that, like trophies to win and put on a shelf, and it’s not right.”
I swallow, looking at him. “You want me to want a baby,” I repeat.
“Absolutely.”
Well now he’s really pushing it. I frown at him. “You want to be a father?”
His dark eyes grow earnest. “I do. So much.”
It is not fair the way he makes me melt like that. What is it about a man that says he wants to be a daddy? I swallow the tingly feeling in my throat and look away.
“Even though you had a bad one…” I guess I’m telling him more than I planned.
I turn my head away, uncertain how to continue. How would that work, me being the queen of Colombia and him in the Bratva and pregnant?
Maybe it’s time I tell him about my plan. Maybe it’s time he knows marrying me comes with decided benefits… if we play this right.
I stare at him, unsure if I can trust him yet.
Will there ever really be a time?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Lev
I have to hand it to Mikhail.
First of all, this place is fucking awesome.
Second, my wife is fucking awesome.
We had to get to know each other, and we needed to get to a place of trust, but we didn’t have the luxury of time that most people do. Being dropped down in the middle of nowhere in an absolute paradise and having to trust each other? It’s getting the job done.
Three days into our stay on the island, we enjoyed the private beach area, taking refreshments onto the sand. Kissing under the shaded canopy. Skinny-dipping in the ocean, with nothing but the blue sky ahead and the occasional call of a seagull.
She lives for sex, and if she has a hard limit, I haven’t fucking found one yet.
We’ve taken full advantage of the Jacuzzi and hot tub on site. She even made me do a fucking yoga routine—said something about it opening my chakras, whatever the fuck those are. She tried to guide me through meditation after, but I tackled her and fucked her in the middle of the yoga studio.
She didn’t seem too bothered by that.
It’s nice, not having technology at our fingertips constantly, notifications vying for our attention. Even though I love my family with my whole heart, it’s nice to have a little break from them.
And sex with Isabella is mind-blowing. There is nothing she won’t do, she’s a savage. I am here for it. Every time she screams beneath me or on top of me because she’s all about riding me, I feel like Superman.
“We’ve used up most of those premade meals,” Isabella says. She’s lying on the beach in a bikini, her eyes closed. I let my gaze roam over her beautiful, finely tuned body stunning.
We’ve fallen into a routine: working out together in the gym, swimming or hiking during the day, followed by lazy afternoons on the beach. Some days, we eat light; other days, we cook a feast. She has a hearty appetite and isn’t picky. Everything seems to excite her. She has a thirst for life that brightens my day. She loves to explore and talk about the future… but there’s an elephant in the room we need to address.
Two, if I’m honest.
We’ll get there.
“Mi querido jefe,” she says, her eyes closed. The sun beats overhead, but the woman doesn’t burn. She just becomes more golden.
“Yes?”
“What are we having for dinner?”
“I think we need to cook together. Are we going to survive?”
She opens one eye and gives me a sly grin. “That depends. Can you keep your hands off me?”
Well, that decided it. No.