“They could have friends,” Aleksandra counters. “When they’re older, they’ll have friends, and I’m not going to keep them under lock and key.”
She makes a valid argument.
“Any other conditions?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says, “I demand my freedom to come and go as I please, and lastly, I do not want Sophia or Liam to know that you are their father.”
“Is that all?” I mock, and my eyes crinkle with a faint smile. “I can work with you on most of your demands, but in time, the children will discover that I’m their father, and I won’t lie to them if they ask.”
She grumbles under her breath.
“What was that?” I ask. I’m sure it was a snide remark, but I didn’t quite catch what was said.
Aleksandra presses her lips tight together. “Nothing,” she mutters.
“Good. Now that we have that settled, you should be aware that I have several conditions of my own.”
Aleksandra groans, and her eyes are glassy but not from sadness. There’s a frustration brewing, an annoyance with having to follow my demands.
“Go ahead,” she resigns with a sigh as I’ve defeated her.
Except I haven’t, she’s had her say, and I’ve met her with my own set of conditions.
“Any guests must be approved by myself or my second, Ardian. That includes for the children or yourself.”
She opens her mouth, but then shuts it and gives a weak nod. “Fine.”
I suspect she’s holding something back, but I don’t push. “This goes without saying, but you are not to consort with the police, feds, or anyone else regarding our business dealings and what you may or may not overhear.”
“I’m not a rat. If I wanted to have your organization destroyed, I wouldn’t go to the police.”
“Good to know,” I say and pull her closer, her knees against the sofa, my gaze locked on her. “You’re not to see, speak, or communicate within any form the bratva or any of the men who associate with your brother.”
“I don’t want to see them,” Aleksandra says. “What else?”
“When you or the twins leave the complex, you will bring a bodyguard with you. I don’t trust that your brother’s family won’t come after you or my children.”
She tilts her head, resting it on the top of the plush sofa. “That’s nothing new. I’m used to having a bodyguard. Next?”
I’m surprised that she isn’t fighting my demands, but maybe she’s given up all hope.
Gently, I guide her legs from being squished between me and the sofa onto my lap.
She tenses at first until my fingers caress her feet. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to help you relax,” I say.
“Antonio,” her voice holds a tinge of warning.
But she doesn’t tell me to stop.
“The final rule that you must abide by under my roof, you cannot bring another man home.”
“You expect me to be celibate?” She rolls her lips between her teeth, but she doesn’t pull away.
“I never said that.” I watch her squirm against the sofa.
Have I made her uncomfortable?