My breath catches in my throat. What does he mean by giving myself over to him? Isn't that what I've done by marrying him?
We arrive back at the house, and as much as I want to explore every inch of Nikita's body, Zion is awake and will be looking for me.
I skirt past Nikita and Luka, glancing around for my son. His laughter emanates from the dining room, and he's got an enormous plate of French toast and a tall glass of orange juice in front of him. Bay is seated across from him, and Hannah is at the head of the table between them.
"Congratulations!" Hannah offers a warm smile, and if there's any hint of jealousy, I don't see it. She's either good at hiding it or happy for us. "I want to see the ring," Hannah says.
I step farther into the room, showing her my left hand and the giant diamond wedding band that Nikita slid onto my finger during the ceremony.
"And it fits!" She's shocked.
"It's a little big," I say. And while it's barely noticeable, I don't want the ring to slip off and lose it. "I can get it resized." The diamond had to cost a fortune.
"Well, it looks amazing," Hannah says. There's a genuine smile on her face, and she throws her arms around me, hugging me.
I'm a little taken aback by her warmth and the friendly gesture. "Welcome to the family," she says in my ear. "Now, I need your help."
"Anything," I whisper, pulling back slightly.
Nikita is in the hallway with Luka, chatting about something. Whether it's the nuptials or business, I don't know and don't care. Nikita smiles and nods as I lock eyes with him. The man is gorgeous in his black suit. Sure, he always wears a dark suit, but something is striking about him today.
Maybe it's the smile on his face. It's not something I've seen from him too often in the short time I've known him.
"I need you to help me with Luka."
"Help you. How?" I ask. Things seem good between them. From what I can surmise, Luka wants to propose and Hannah is happy with him. What could she possibly want from me?
"I want to propose to Luka," Hannah says.
I gasp and cover my lips with my hand. My eyes must be wide because I'm trying not to laugh and pick up my jaw.
"What?" Hannah folds her arms across her chest. "You don't think I should because it's not traditional?"
The girl is putting words right into my mouth. "I think he loves you and intends to propose. Wasn't that what he was doing when I interrupted?" I may not have been here for long, but I can see the longing gazes and heated stares they exchange. It's like the two of them want to ravage each other at every possible opportunity.
Hannah purses her lips. "I should be mad at you," she says and glances past me at the two men in the hallway chatting. "But I'm not."
I sense that while she may not be mad, there might be a tinge of jealousy in that we made it down the aisle before they did.
"We're family," I say and ruffle Zion's hair as he eats his breakfast.
"Mom!" he whines and scrunches his nose as he stares up at me. "You're going to mess up my hair."
The kid does have gorgeous dark, thick hair. He gets that from Otello. I grimace at the thought of that man, his DNA making up part of my son.
"You look great," I say.
"When can I go back to school?" Zion asks. "I miss my friends."
"That's something that Nikita and I need to discuss." He'd been pulled out of school when he'd been whisked to Chicago with my sister to keep him safe. That hadn't gone well, and sending him back to school with the knowledge that the mafia might still go after my son, is concerning.
While I'm not fond of homeschooling Zion, perhaps we can find someplace that might be safer.
"But, Mom," Zion whines.
Nikita strolls into the dining room and stands in front of one of the empty seats, his hands on the back of the wooden chair. "Can I have a word with you?" he asks, his focus on me.
"Finish your breakfast," I say and drop a kiss on Zion's forehead.
I step out into the hallway with Nikita. Luka is heading around the corner of the hallway. It's just the two of us, although I'm sure there are several guards nearby.
"When do you planning on telling Zion about us?" Nikita asks.
I bite down on my bottom lip. I want my kid to think that I'm marrying for love. The last thing in the world I want is for him to believe that this marriage is to protect him, even if that is in part true. "I haven't figured out how," I say.
"We could tell him together," Nikita answers.
"I need to sit down and have a serious conversation with Zion." After all that we've been through in Chicago and now moving into this place with Nikita, I'm sure my son has a plethora of questions. And he deserves the truth, even if it's sugar-coated because of his age.
"We both do."
"And what do you think we should tell him?" I ask. I'm surprised that Nikita wants to be a part of that conversation. Is he worried that I'm planning on telling my son that the bratva now protects us?
"Just what he needs to know. That you married and we will be living here, indefinitely."
Exhaling a heavy sigh, I pinch the bridge of my nose. "I'd like him to think marriage is about love, not an exchange of services. A six-year-old shouldn't know the things that we do." I want only to protect Zion.
"And I'm not suggesting we explain it all to him, only that we love each other and that I have a very large family here to help out."
That's one way of putting it, and it's not exactly wrong. Nikita does have a large family, and from the short time that I've known them, they've been supportive and accommodating to our situation.
"That might work," I say and exhale a heavy sigh. I glance back in the dining room at Zion and Bay, eating at the table. Both are quietly giggling about some secret they're sharing.
Hannah glances down at her phone, oblivious to whatever is occurring between the two children. At least they don't seem to be getting into any drastic trouble while eating their breakfast.
"We also need to figure out enrolling Zion in first grade," I say. "I pulled him out of school temporarily because of what's been going on with the mafia and when I sent him to live with my sister."
"He should be enrolled locally, at the private school nearby."
I inhale a sharp breath. "I can't afford that," I say.
"It's taken care of."
"What?" He can't seriously be offering to foot the bill. He may be marrying me, but Zion isn't his son. He doesn't have to pay child support and the costs of raising a kid.
"We're married," Nikita says. "I'm helping with his tuition."
While I want my son to have the best education, I can't accept what Nikita offers. "That's more than generous, but it's too much."
"Are we not married?" Nikita asks.
I open my mouth and expel a soft breath. "This isn't about our marriage."