[REBECCA]
I roused from slumber to find the expanse of the bed empty beside me, an unexpected void that jolted me into alertness. Swiftly, I elevated myself into a sitting position, my eyes grappling with the persistent morning radiance as I blinked away the remnants of sleep.
Emerging from the covers, I navigated my way toward the crib stationed nearby, only to discover it vacant, devoid of the presence I anticipated. My recollection painted a picture of Artemy embarking on his early morning ritual to tend to Cevia. Had they not returned to the comfort of our shared sanctuary?
While enveloping myself in a robe, I embarked on a trajectory towards the bathroom, swiftly tending to the ritual of dental hygiene and facial invigoration. With my hair haphazardly ensnared in a makeshift bun, I made passage to the adjacent room, the sanctuary of Cevia, her nursery.
Ajar was the door, granting me an unobstructed view of the scene within. My gaze alighted upon Artemy, his frame bowed in devoted reverence over the changing table, an orchestration of gentle words flowing from his lips toward our cherished offspring. The sight birthed a smile on my countenance, a testament to his consummate role as a devoted father.
I leaned against the doorframe, a silent witness to the tableau as Artemy continued his symphony of affection upon our progeny. An instant presented itself wherein he scooped Cevia into his embrace, her cherubic head nestled atop his shoulder, adorned with a dainty, floral headband.
The transmutation of his posture unveiled Cevia’s ensemble-a resplendent rosy dress that draped her form. It became apparent that her custodial guardian had already orchestrated her attire for the day, an act that resonated deeply within me.
Breaking my role as a mere observer, I initiated my ingress into the nursery, the utterance of “Good morning” serving as a melodic prelude to my presence. Artemy pivoted, his form now oriented toward me, a regal figure enshrouded in morning illumination, the infant princess secure within his embrace.
“Mornin’,” his response resounded, his voice a velvety resonance that echoed through the chamber. “I thought I’d bestow upon her a regal visage ere your awakening.”
A smile tugged at the corners of my lips, an unspoken acknowledgment of his endeavors. A leisurely stride propelled me toward him, my arms extending in a yearning gesture. Artemy, acknowledging the proffered invitation, delivered Cevia into my awaiting hold.
Cradled against my chest, she emanated an aura of fragrant innocence that beckoned my senses to partake in its enchantment. Bending my head, I inhaled her ethereal baby scent, a sensory indulgence that never ceased to captivate.
“Nourishment precedes our descent,” I declared softly, my gaze now affixed upon Artemy. With a calculated motion, I bridged the distance between us, my arm forming an embrace around his neck.
Our daughter found herself cocooned between our entities as a chaste kiss graced his lips. In response, he fostered a more ardent connection, a union of breath and desire unburdened by the presence of Cevia nestled betwixt.
A gentle melody of coos from Cevia elicited a disengagement, relinquishing us from the spell we had woven. My gaze locked onto Artemy, a mingling of breathless allure as he reciprocated my gaze with a wink, sealing the sentiment before imprinting a tender kiss upon my forehead.
Our collective essence migrated toward a commodious rocking chair, a familial throne that we collectively occupied. Nestled within Artemy’s lap, Cevia became the fulcrum of our attention, ensconced within my embrace, her tiny form preparing for the vital ritual of sustenance.
While Artemy nimbly untied my robe, I tenderly drew Cevia toward my bosom. Swiftly, her inquisitive mouth sought refuge upon my breast, a seamless connection that echoed with the primal rhythm of life. With my head finding a natural resting place upon Artemy’s shoulder, I surrendered to the moment, enveloped by the tenderness of the scene.
A quiescent moment presented itself, wherein I elected to share a contemplation. “Lynda and I are slated to convene today for wedding deliberations. Our protraction has yielded to the imperative of preparation. A mere three weeks remain until the ceremony, yet I’ve yet to lay the foundation.”
Artemy’s response was a whisper, a resonance that wrapped around us like a gossamer thread. “Not you, perhaps, but Lynda has orchestrated the overture. I suspect she’s woven her magic into every detail.”
A smile, a wistful twist of the lips, heralded my response. “Her adeptness doesn’t surprise me. Would you find it fitting to join us for the discourse on decor? The affair is not mine alone; it is our shared narrative. Your voice, too, should echo within its tapestry.”
Artemy’s chest reverberated with a soft chuckle as his lips pressed a tender kiss onto my forehead. “Follow your heart’s desires, my Angel. Your choices are mine to embrace. My focus lies solely on standing at the aisle’s end, where our vows will intertwine and our love will merge into passion.”
His words elicited another smile from me; his mastery of expression was undeniable. “Mmm… the notion of you making love to me sounds enchanting,” I responded, my attention momentarily divided as I shifted Cevia to my opposite breast.
Artemy emitted a low groan, his head finding solace against mine. “This anticipation is a form of torment. Why did no one prepare me for this waiting?”
A laughter bubbled out from between my lips, prompting me to gently pull my head away. “Patience, Artemy.”
He exhaled with a mixture of exasperation and longing, his gaze fixed on me intently. “Do you derive amusement from this?”
“Perhaps a tad,” I replied, a casual shrug accompanying my words.
Our eyes locked in a brief exchange before a bout of laughter enveloped us both. Amidst our mirth, Cevia’s cry cut through the air, and I swiftly consoled my startled baby.
Artemy’s laughter subsided into a soft chuckle. “We’ve startled her,” I murmured, observing Cevia continue to nurse eagerly.
In the tranquil ambiance, Artemy and I remained silent witnesses to Cevia’s nourishment. Her eyes remained closed, a delicate fist nestled beside my other breast.
My gaze wandered around the nursery, an appreciation for the room Lynda and I had meticulously assembled taking hold. Artemy’s contribution was palpable too.
The space held a generous expanse, arguably too spacious for a baby, yet its proximity to our bedroom made it the logical choice. The walls adorned a gentle beige hue, and Cevia’s crib nestled between two expansive panel windows.
Fit for royalty, her crib was swathed in delicate pink curtains cascading on either side. Adjacent to it, a comfortable couch and an ottoman were positioned, while a rocking chair graced the opposite corner.
As my gaze lifted to the wall bare of curtains behind the crib, a flutter of emotion stirred within me upon reading the inscribed quote:
“Your first breath took ours away.”
The profundity of those words resonated deeply. She was our miracle, our beacon of light.
Two more quotes adorned the nursery’s walls. My eyes shifted to the second one, adorning the wall beside the window where the dresser stood:
“We loved you before you were born.
And now, our love for you shines brighter.”
Turning my attention to the final quote, I suppressed a chuckle:
“There is no Prince Charming for me. My Daddy is my only King.”
Yet, the original quote had been different:
“Someday I may find my Prince Charming, but my Dad will always be my King.”
True to his nature, Artemy had promptly acted upon his instincts. Upon discovering the original quote, he had fetched paint from downstairs and replaced it with his own rendition. Thus, the new version was born.
Artemy’s protectiveness and possessiveness extended beyond words. I pondered the fate of Cevia’s future suitor, and a shiver traversed my spine. It wasn’t solely Artemy’s watchful eye; the young man would also have to navigate the scrutiny of three doting uncles and two steadfast grandfathers.
A challenging prospect, indeed. The notion of encountering a Prince Charming seemed remote.
My reverie was broken as Cevia ceased nursing. Standing with her nestled in my arms, I directed my gaze toward Artemy. “Could you take her downstairs while I prepare?”
Artemy rose from his seat, his movements graceful yet purposeful. A fleeting tenderness illuminated his gaze as he leaned in, planting a swift, affectionate kiss on the tip of my nose before drawing back.
As I carefully passed Cevia into his awaiting arms, a sense of longing and uncertainty gripped me. His words hung in the air, laden with a touch of regret. “I have matters to attend to, so breakfast together won’t be possible.”
A subtle inclination of my head acknowledged his message. In the shadow of the Loskutov’s power that now held sway over the Italians, Artemy’s life had become a whirlwind of responsibilities. Raffaele’s chaotic legacy had left behind a trail of challenges, a tangled web that Artemy now endeavored to untangle.
His eyes bore a weight that spoke volumes. He wished to shield me from the maelstrom of intrigue and danger that engulfed his world. Yet, our lives were indelibly intertwined; I wasn’t a mere spectator but a participant, living and breathing the same existence as him.
This life wasn’t just his-it was mine as well. Born into the labyrinthine folds of the Mafia, fate had cast me into its darker aspects. But amid the shadows, love had blossomed. It had bound us together, making me as much a part of his realm as he was of mine. For he wasn’t just my husband; he was The Boss, the sovereign of this realm, and I was his confidante, his Queen.
Summoning a gentle smile, I aimed to dissolve the tension that had etched itself onto his features. His shoulders, tense with the burdens he carried, eased at the sight of my affection.
“Until later then,” I whispered, my voice a soft promise. His affirmation came in the form of a solemn nod as I approached the exit.
But as I crossed the threshold, a whimsical impulse took hold of me. Glancing back, I painted a playful grin across my lips. “A mere three weeks, Mr. Artemy Loskutov, and then I am entirely at your mercy-ready to fulfill your every desire.”
His eyes ignited with an intensity that was as exhilarating as it was seductive. Desire danced within his gaze, raw and untamed. A guttural growl rumbled deep within him, and sensing the untamed hunger it carried, I stepped away, leaving the room behind.
Yet, not before his voice, a blend of warning and promise, reached my ears. “Mark my words, kitten, those vows won’t go unanswered.”
A laughter bubbled from within me, vibrant and charged with anticipation. My cheeks flushed with a mixture of excitement and a hint of bashfulness as I eagerly counted down the days, longing for the moment when the three-week interlude would finally come to an end.