Ida Jane’s eyes widened, her lips forming a perfect O of surprise. My gaze sought Ida Jane’s, and she held mine for a long moment.

  “Okay. Well, that’s not what I expected you to lead with. I’m happy if you’re happy, which I’m assuming you are since you’re telling me about the baby. Who’s the father?” she asked.

  Millie snorted. “Luka…who else?”

  I rocked back on my heels, wondering if Millie had talked to Stolly about the pregnancy.

  “You’re the first person I’ve told,” Millie said, sounding teary. “I’m not sure what to do.”

  “Be honest with Stol,” Ida Jane said. I released a breath that held a lot of tension. I wasn’t sure what I expected her to say, but I was glad Ida Jane had counseled her friend in a way that benefited my friend.

  “Do you think he’ll care? I mean, he must have moved on with, like, a million other women by now.”

  “He hasn’t, and he’s a better guy than you’ve given him credit for being,” Ida Jane snapped. She inhaled, then released the breath through her mouth. “Look, he comes over a couple of times each week. He’s a good man. Thoughtful and responsible. He has a past, but so do you. Don’t hold that against him—just like you wouldn’t want him to only see you as a survivor.”

  I swallowed, my throat thick, as the weight of what Ida Jane said settled over me. My vision dimmed as I remembered Nadia in the hospital bed the last time I saw her.

  I hated the mere idea of another woman going through something like that. I squeezed my hands into fists and stalked from the room where I called the detective who’d been assigned to Ida Jane’s case.

  He had no additional news about Dillon, who’d been lying low. But I knew that wouldn’t last—and not just because of my dreams. That kind of man never let something that chipped his ego slide. He would come after her. I knew it.

  I had to do something to make sure that piece of shit stayed away from my wife.

  “You really think this is a good idea? Especially if you’re trying to stay under ICE’s radar?” Cruz said as I thumped my fist on Dillon’s door. I had to admit that the shitbag lived in a decent-sized place in a good neighborhood. Large trees created shade but did little to lower the temperature thanks to the high humidity. The lots weren’t large, but each plot around the houses was green and well-manicured with flower beds. Down the street, a sprinkler clicked, spraying a thick arc of water onto the grass.

  So, Dillon had some money or made a good salary, but so did I. And I wasn’t in the habit of emotionally abusing women or cheating on my partner, which made me a much better option for Ida Jane. I wasn’t like Dillon. I wasn’t. But I couldn’t shake that dream or the way I’d treated her after my first talk with Coach. I should have been honest then. From the beginning.

  “I’m going to protect my wife,” I snapped.

  “I thought that was what the security guards and bad-ass dog were for.”

  “The douchebag was at our game, and he made her upset,” I said.

  “Her or you?”

  Damn Cruz and his insightful comments. I didn’t need psychoanalyzing. I just required Ida Jane to be safe. Cruz was more intimidating than I was, so I’d assumed he was my best choice of a wingman. He was proving to be annoying, though, not helpful.

  “How’d you find this place?” Cruz asked.

  “None of your business.” I wasn’t telling him that I’d sweet-talked the front office secretary into letting me see the ticket holders to the last game and copied over the address to the credit card Dillon had used to purchase the tickets. That was all kinds of wrong, and I wouldn’t have had to go to such means if the garbage pail had just kept his distance.

  I pounded on the door again. A shadow scooted through the space, and I narrowed my eyes. “Come out, Dillon. I want to talk to you.”

  The door opened a crack and a woman’s face filled the narrow gap. “He’s not here.” She sized me up, her eyes lingering on my shoulders and crotch. Real classy.

  “When will he be back?”

  She opened the door wider. She had a baby bump poking out of her short top and low-ride shorts. “Not today. Wanna come in, and—”

  “No, I want him to leave my wife alone,” I snapped.

  She blinked slowly. “Um, who are you?”

  “I’m Maxim Dolov, and Dillon needs to leave Ida Jane alone.”

  She snorted. “The mousy little blond he dated during college? You actually married her?”

  I clenched my fists, but Cruz pulled me back. “Please let Dillon know we stopped by—and that we’d appreciate him adhering to his restraining order that is now permanent,” Cruz said.

  My teammate yanked me down the sidewalk and toward the new SUV that I’d purchased to accommodate Blade’s travel needs. I’d thought giving up my one toy would bother me, but it hadn’t. I enjoyed its greater space. And now I had a back seat to fuck my wife in—which I’d already done twice, to highly satisfying results. Ida Jane hadn’t had sex in a car before, either, which made the adventure all the more exciting for both of us. As I’d told Ida Jane, I’d never had a car back in Saint Petersburg, so I was catching up on typical American milestones.

  “That was stupid,” Cruz said. “You can’t threaten pregnant women.”

  “I didn’t,” I said with a huff. “I wanted to threaten a pregnant woman’s asshole boyfriend, but you didn’t let me.”

  “Whatever. That wasn’t smart. Coach will have my ass and yours if he finds out.”

  “Then, he better not.”

  “You owe me lunch,” Cruz grumbled.

  “Fine. But then I’m taking you home. I want to get to Ida Jane’s office early. Some of the foster kids are at a group meeting tonight, and I like to hang out with them.”

  Cruz raised his eyebrow.

  I sighed, relenting. “They remind me of me,” I said. “But they have it better. Even though many of them live with people who don’t truly give a shit about them, they have a roof, food, clothes. Just those things make a difference.”

  Cruz rubbed his fingers through his bristly beard. “Yeah, I can see that.”

  He remained quiet, thinking. When we pulled into the parking lot of a Mediterranean place we both liked, he said, “So, your childhood was bad. Like, really bad?”

  “Drunk father, dead mother, and an older sister who started dating at fifteen in order to call in favors—like meals—with the older men she was with.”

  “That really sucks.”

  “And it’s the reason I never wanted a family.”

  He hummed. “Does Ida Jane know that?”

  I shrugged. “She hasn’t seemed interested in a child. You remember how she lunged at Dillon for suggesting she’d want kids out front of the restaurant.” Dammit. Now, I was thinking about Dillon again.

  Cruz turned quiet again, but as we settled at the table, his expression was serious. “You need to let her know where you stand on a family. That’s a big fucking deal for people. It broke up Cormac and his first wife.”

  I ignored the uneasiness that had been building in my chest since Dillon appeared at the hockey game.

  Chapter 19

  Ida Jane

  It was a Friday night in late March, and I was getting ready for the children’s charities gala. My life had taken such a strange turn. I now attended galas that raised money for the type of program I worked for. And had a driver for the days when Maxim was out of town or couldn’t take me to or from work. He was teaching me how to drive, but I still didn’t enjoy the process and made silly errors that had nearly caused me to smash his brand-new SUV into a tree…in an empty parking lot. Not my best moment.

  My life was surreal, and I loved it, because I got to spend my days with Maxim. Who knew the taciturn D-man would be such a softie? With me, he talked often, expressing his thoughts and opinions. I learned that he loved mysteries but struggled to read them in English. He preferred to work out in the evenings, and he shied away from most American junk food, shocked by its strange, unnatural colors.

  He loved movies—any movie—and would happily settle in to watch a romantic comedy as he did a sports movie or an action flick. He rarely drank coffee, but if he did, it was laced with copious amounts of milk, which he said was good protein.

  And he made me happy. Very happy. I’d had more orgasms in the first week in Maxim’s bed than in the entirety of my life. But more importantly, he listened to me, he respected my work and my time, and he made me feel important. Loved.

  I’d fallen hard for the frugal, growly man with a big heart, and he seemed as enamored with me. I just wanted to make sure he felt pride when I was on his arm tonight, not just thankfulness that I’d solved his immigration issues.

  I wanted Maxim to remain my husband. I craved the family my mother mentioned the night before our wedding. The idea of a child with Maxim excited me.

  I closed my eyes and breathed through my nose. I wanted it all—the happily-ever-after I hadn’t allowed myself to think about since I found out Dillon was cheating. But, because of my experience with Dillon, I remained too afraid to ask Maxim if he wanted the same. I needed to get over that—be honest with him. More than likely, we were on the same page.

  To my embarrassment, I continued to remain quiet about my feelings, hoping he’d tell me he loved me so I could throw my arms around his neck, kiss him silly, and repeat the words back. Because I was afraid to say the words first. What if he didn’t feel the same?

  What if he didn’t want me forever?

  Dillon hadn’t.

  No, no. Maxim cared for me, deeply. I knew he did. And once he said the words, I’d show him how much he meant to me. Ida Jane with a high sex drive was new, but this version of me was used to getting off whenever my sexy husband was home, and I definitely didn’t want that to end.

  “You ready?” Maxim called from the other side of the closet door. I’d fixed my hair and makeup before heading into the closet to slip into my dress.

  I wore a teal velvet sheath with an asymmetrical hem that slid from mid-thigh on the right down to my ankle on the left. I’d paired the dress with some flashy Jimmy Choos—way outside an art therapist’s budget, but a big splurge I’d made for Maxim’s gala appearance. My hair was down and clipped to the side a la Veronica Lake, but I didn’t wear red lipstick—still couldn’t stand how that stuff felt—so I’d coated my lips with a bit of lip stain that claimed it would last all day.

  “Keelie’s right. I look kick-ass in this dress.”

  “Better than kick ass,” Maxim rumbled from the doorway.

  I turned to face him, eyes widening as I noted the enormous bouquet he held. It had to be fifteen hydrangeas, from white to pale pink to indigo. He bought me flowers and other little gifts every week, even though I told him I didn’t need them.

  He said he liked spoiling me. Well, I was getting very spoiled.

  “Oh, they’re beautiful.”

  “You’re beautiful.” He strode forward and tugged me to his side, slamming his lips to mine. There went my lip stain. And the flowers. But I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back.

  The man made me crazy, made me burn. Made me so damn horny I could barely think straight.

  “The gala.”

  “Yes, we’ll go. After I do this.”

  He pulled out a small box, and I gasped as he opened it, showing off a pair of stunning sapphire and diamond earrings. “I have a confession—I looked at your dress. But that’s because I wanted to get you something to wear with it.”

  “I…” Words failed me.

  “Will you wear them?”

  I nodded, still unable to find my voice. Maxim rarely spent money on himself. In fact, he lived a Spartan lifestyle. Yet, he’d bought a new SUV so Blade could ride around with us more easily. He’d gotten me an entirely new wardrobe and a security detail and so many other little things. But these earrings weren’t little. They were expensive.

  My eyes welled with tears, but I willed them back. “Thank you. I’ll cherish them.”

  During the car ride, I kept touching my earrings, enjoying the feel of them in my ears.

  “I’m glad you like them,” he said. After a moment, he said, “You need to tell Millie to talk to Stolly. He deserves to know about his kid.”

  “I agree,” I said. “But it’s not my place—”

  “He deserves to know that his life’s changed.”

  “I agree,” I said again, trying hard not to feel defensive. “Millie’s going to tell him—”

  “Soon,” Maxim snapped. “I don’t like holding this from him.”

  I inhaled through my nose. “I’ll tell her your concerns.”

  “If she’s worried about him meeting his responsibilities, she doesn’t need to.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t think that’s her worry. And why do I get the feeling that you’re not talking about Stol any longer?”

  He bit back a curse. “The world’s fucked, and I had the worst role models. I can’t imagine having a kid. I’m glad I know you feel the same way.”

  I swallowed hard. “I never said I didn’t want kids.” The words came out somewhat garbled, thanks to the emotion in my throat.

  “Yeah, you did. You hung up on your mom when she brought it up and you were so mad at Dillon, at the restaurant that night…” He shot me a glance, taking in my crumpled expression.

  “Wait. Are you telling me you do want children?” His tone was accusatory.

  “Not right now. I’m still young, but, eventually, yeah, I see myself with a family.”

  He remained quiet. “Blade and I aren’t enough?”

  “Maxim, it’s not that. For now, I’m happy.” But was I? Knowing that Maxim and I wouldn’t create a sweet little life hurt, deep into my soul. “I need to think.”

  We drove the rest of the way to the gala in silence. He seemed to want to talk but never did. I shook off his hands the moment we stepped off the red carpet where the local press took pictures. I was too preoccupied to worry about the photos.

  Maxim remained aloof, just like he was with people he didn’t know well. I didn’t understand his need to close himself off, though I thought his coping skill came from losing his sister. Or maybe from having an alcoholic father.

  My research into that minefield showcased a heartbreakingly high number of survivors with post-traumatic stress disorder. I struggled to imagine a life where young Maxim wouldn’t know if his father would be home and what mood he’d be in—if the man had spent their grocery money on booze. Such an antithetical upbringing to my own, and one that made me want to clutch him to my chest.

  So, yes, I could understand and even sympathize with his concerns about children. But for him to decide for me, without having a conversation… Anger and hurt mingled, leaving me lightheaded and nauseous.

  Tonight wasn’t going the way I’d hoped.

  Maxim had trotted off to be with his friends under the pretext of getting me a drink while I stood with Keelie, Naomi, and Nicole near our table. My friends looked gorgeous in their gowns. Keelie tugged at the neckline of hers, the most anxious of all of us.

  “It gets easier,” Nicole said, watching Keelie with a kind expression. “I had no idea what to expect at the first one of these I attended.”

  “Is there a right way?” Naomi asked. She waved her hand. “There is. I know that. I’m just…” She shrugged. We exchanged a look. Naomi had been quieter than usual.

  “Are you Ida Barlow?” a woman asked from behind me.

  I turned to find a woman with a pixie cut dyed blue towering over me. She rested her hands on her baby bump, which she wore proudly under a slinky silver dress. A riot of tattoos spilled down her arms and large chandelier earrings brushed her shoulders.

  A sinking sensation hit my stomach. I knew this woman. She was the one I’d seen with Dillon at the hockey game. Stella.

  “My name is Ida Jane Dolov,” I said.

  “I don’t really care what you call yourself. Just tell your hockey bully to stay away from Dillon.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “What?”

  She smirked, triumph lighting up her face—as if she knew something I didn’t. “Ah, I see. He’s kept you in the dark.” She leaned in closer. “Makes you wonder about what else he’s hiding.” She shoved an envelope into my belly hard enough that I grasped it. She immediately let go but so did I. The envelope fell to the floor. “Might want to ask him about those. And tell him I play hardball, and I will win. This is just a little preview.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  She tossed her head. “You’ll see, and I guarantee you won’t like it.”

  “Watch your mouth,” Naomi said in a dangerous, low tone.

  “Or what? You’ll assault a pregnant lady?” The woman laughed. “That would be great. I’d get to sue your husband’s ass for all his money.”

  “You need to leave,” Nicole said, stepping in front of me. She was our elder by a decade and she seemed to know how to handle all these situations. She raised her hand and motioned to someone. “I’m going to have security remove you.”

  “You’re all stupid. I paid for a ticket—same as you. Enjoy your dinner…and the last few minutes of calm before the storm.” Stella glanced around Nicole at me, her gaze critical.

  “No wonder Dillon cheated. You’re not pretty and you’re clearly not smart. Clearly, Maxim’s using you for your American citizenship.”

  Before I could muster a comment, she spun on her heels and strode across the room, away from the hockey players descending on us.

  “Oh.”

  At Keelie’s gasp, I followed her gaze to find pictures spilled from the envelope Stella had shoved at me. They were of Maxim. He was shirtless, no, nude…and he wasn’t alone.

  I bent down and snatched the photos from the floor, stuffing them back into the envelope, my heart pounding and ears ringing. Maxim stepped into my line of vision, and I could hear Naomi’s animated voice as she recounted the interaction to the guys.

  I tipped my head back and stared up at the man I’d come to love so fiercely. My gaze traced the lines of his face, resting on his frowning lips. They’d kissed me earlier with such tenderness.