Lap of Luxury (Love Don't Cost a Thing)

says confidently, casting sly looks at me and Mikhail. “We only told them to go to hell, and I find that Ravnikars never listen to anyone but themselves.”

Ciara laughs, tries to stop because it’s hurting her split lip, and then snorts with uncontrollable mirth. I give Bethany a dark look, and Mikhail grins as if despite himself.

Bethany takes a tight hold of my hand, a huge smile on her face and her eyes on the sparkling sea. “These babies will be just fine.”

Epilogue

Bethany

“It’s not fair,” I moan, watching Mikhail place a glass of pale pink wine into Ciara’s hand. I’m resting a tumbler of water on my fat belly. “Months and months we’ve spent in Provence, and I haven’t eaten the cheese or drank the wine. Pregnancy sucks.”

Ciara is sitting across from me in the dappled sunshine at the patio table. She takes a sip of the wine and passes it back to Mikhail. “It’s not like I can have much. Just a few sips after a feeding.” She gazes into the bassinet beside her, where little Nataša is sleeping peacefully.

Mikhail and Ciara weren’t sure how Damir was going to react when they told him they wanted to name their daughter Nataša. There have been tense moments since we left the beach in the Seychelles together and started a new life together in France, but I knew the feud was truly over when Ciara placed the newborn baby into Damir’s arms. My lover smiled down at her, and then met Ciara’s eyes as naturally as any brother-in-law would, his face full of love for the child. I think Mikhail and I both let out sighs of relief at the same time.

“At least you get some wine. Meanwhile, I sit here as fat as a house and equally useless.” I clamp my hands on either side of my swollen belly, but can’t help but smile and feel a spark of excitement. Any day now.

Whoever you are, I think to my bump, don’t make me wait too long. Your daddy and I can’t wait to meet you.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, princesa, and don’t you forget it.” Damir leans past me to place a dish of pasta on the table, and then kisses my neck.

“I’ll feel gorgeous when I can get up without calling for a crane,” I say over my shoulder as he disappears back into the kitchen.

“I don’t miss that feeling,” Ciara tells me.

“Well I think you’re both glowing,” Mikhail says, sitting down. He has to move mine and Ciara’s textbooks and notebooks out of the way to make space for our plates and cutlery. Since we got new identities, Ciara and I have enrolled in distance education courses. In a year’s time, once we’ve got the hang of this parenting thing, the plan is for us to enroll in a university. For now, I’m too pregnant to think straight for longer than ten minutes at a time and Ciara has to keep stopping to breastfeed, so courses that we can do at our own pace are ideal.

Meanwhile, Damir and Mikhail have been working on the investments that Mikhail and Ciara started in the Seychelles. So far it’s been entirely legal. Damir pretends to complain once or twice a week that he’s thoroughly bored, though with a huge smile on his face.

I watch Mikhail as he gazes down at his sleeping baby. Ciara smiles contentedly at him. Damir whistles in the kitchen, getting the bread and salad to go with our pasta.

“We have to protect this,” I say fiercely. “This happiness. We’re not going to pass on the Ravnikar curse to our children.”

Mikhail looks up from the baby. Then he turns to call out to Damir. “Did you hear what Bethany said, brata?”

Damir comes out of the kitchen carrying an enormous salad bowl and sets it on the table. “What did my princesa say?”

“That we have to protect our children from what our parents did to us,” I tell him. Not just the feuds, but the neglect, too. I still feel the pain that I never knew my parents. When Ciara meets my eyes, I know she’s thinking of her own strained relationship with her mother and father.

Damir strokes his little finger down the baby’s nose, smiling. “We have an excellent guide of how not to raise these little ones. That’s a good start.” Then he glances up at us, his eyes that were so often stormy in the past, clear and bright in the spring sunshine. “And I have you all to keep me on the straight and narrow.”

Mikhail snorts, but he’s smiling as he does. “Well, we’ll never be bored with you around, that’s for sure.”

Damir preens as he sits down, straightening the rolled back cuffs of his shirt. “I should think not. Maybe every few years we need a whole lot of drama and danger to get through, to remind us what’s important in life. Perhaps another worldwide scavenger hunt with Interpol on our tail.”

Ciara spears a piece of asparagus and munches it thoughtfully. “That could be fun. What would be the prize?”

“Our freedom, of course,” says Damir with a grin. “Perhaps I’ll frame myself as a counterfeiter and hide the evidence under Mikhail’s bed. Then we’ll split up and meet in Marrakesh or Melbourne to plan our next move.”

I laugh. “Damir, you’re terrible! I wouldn’t put it past you to actually do this, either.”

Mikhail grins. “Terrible is the word. I’ll start stashing more fake passports around the house, just in case.”

Damir dishes pasta into four bowls and hands them out. “An excellent plan, Misha. You’ll need to keep one step ahead of the law.”

I eat thoughtfully. He means this in jest, but practically speaking we do need to keep one step ahead of the law. We’ll never be able to go back to the UK. Mikhail and Damir have both been seeing to security and covering our tracks, but I know the lion’s share of the work of getting us safely into France under assumed names was Damir’s. He’s the glue holding us together, and I know that he’s strong enough to do it. He’s the reason that today, we’re all smiling.

After we eat, Damir helps me out of my chair, gathers me close to him and leads me toward our bedroom in the villa. “Siesta,” he calls over his shoulder to Mikhail and Ciara, and they laugh and wave. He’s been keen to have as much private time as he can before the baby arrives.