“You look breathtaking.”
She beams at me before walking right into my arms. “You look handsome.”
“I try.”
“How did the meeting go?” she asks cautiously.
“It went well,” I say. “I’ve reforged a few old alliances and new oaths of fealty have been pledged to the Bratva.”
“My peacemaker. I never thought I’d see the day.”
I roll my eyes and grumble, “Don’t think I won’t get a little handsy with anyone who tests my limits. You most of all.”
Phoenix gurgles a little as he turns on his chest and catches sight of me. He’s not sounding out words yet, but he has just started recognizing faces. Another reason why he’s always attached to Esme.
“Hey little bird,” I say, adopting the moniker that Esme uses on him all the time. Half the time, I don’t even realize I’m doing it.
I pick my son up and plant a kiss on his forehead. He smells like baby powder and fresh soap. He’s also wearing a long-sleeved shirt with little black suspenders.
“Someone just had a bath,” I observe.
Esme laughs. “I gave him one just now.”
“Why the fuck am I paying Talia if you’re the one doing all the work?” I ask.
Esme laughs. “Because Talia’s his nanny, but I’m his mother,” she says. “I’m still the one in charge of taking care of him and raising him.”
“And I have no problems with that,” I say. “But it’s not necessary for you to be washing him when you’re all decked out like this.”
She smiles patiently at me, as she runs her hand over Phoenix’s downy hair. “I got dressed after I washed him.”
“Not the point.”
She laughs. “Will you stop being so grumpy?” she demands, patting my arm. “It’s the grand opening tonight. You should be excited.”
“And I am,” I say. “In more ways than one.”
I paw at her ass. She yelps and ducks away from me laughing. “No tocas! Keep those filthy hands to yourself, Mr. Kovalyov,” she exclaims. “Talia could walk in at any moment.”
“Let her walk in. We’ll show her a thing or two.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “We’ve had this conversation before—you cannot grope me in front of the nanny. It took her a week to look me in the eye the last time she walked in on you pawing at me like a horny teenager.”
“That was her fault,” I point out. “She was the one who just pranced into our private quarters.”
“If I recall, it was the main sitting room.”
“Still my house.”
Esme laughs and shakes her head at me. “Some things never change.”
She turns her attention to our son in my arms. He’s playing with my lapel, little fingers grasping and tugging.
“Doesn’t he look amazing?” she asks.
“He always does,” I reply. “As do you, my beauty.”
“Ah-hem!”