Chapter 27
Gavril
I woke to darkness, and for a moment, I wondered if I had finally died in transition.
Gradually, however, the room came into view, and I drew in a breath, swearing when it hurt like hell to do so.
“So you are finally awake. Welcome back.”
Fuck. Now I really was in hell if Roman Marchetti was sitting at my bedside. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked hotly, fighting through the pain that was coursing through my body.
He chuckled, snapping on the lamp before stretching his legs out before him. “I’m giving your wife and mine a break. Trust me. I would rather be anywhere but here.”
Naomi. I tried to sit up, but Roman placed a hand on my shoulder. “Now don’t go undoing all the doctor’s hard work. I believe you are going to have to pay him double what you normally do.”
“Where’s my wife?” I rasped.
Roman reached over and pulled a glass from the bedside table, one that had a straw dangling from it. “She’s sleeping, and I would suggest that you let her do that just a little bit longer. She’s fucking exhausted.”
Guilt wound its way through my body as he held the straw up to my lips. “Slow,” he told me. “Trust me. I’ve been where you are. It’s going to fucking hurt like hell.”
I managed a few sips before he pulled the glass away, replacing it on the table. “How long has it been?” I asked, sounding more like myself.
“Three fucking days,” he sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “Ilsa refused to leave Naomi’s side, and I refused to leave my pregnant wife’s, so here we are, sleeping in your fucking house.”
I fought the urge to grin, finding it hard to believe myself. Marchetti and I were sworn enemies, choosing not to get into each other’s shit. “I hate that I missed the sleepover.”
He shot me a look of pure fury. “I’ve already warned our wives that this is the one and only time I’m willing to do this. You owe me a favor, Kirilenko, and I intend to cash it in one day.”
“And I will give it to you,” I told him, hoping that he could hear how grateful I was for what he had done for my wife. It was a tad too much for me to thank him. That would imply we were on some even playing field, and no matter what our wives wanted, it wasn’t going to happen.
Not anytime soon.
He gave me a single nod. “You have a pain pump to your right,” he said a moment later. “If you need it.”
I fumbled around until I found the button, choosing to press it before I could feel anything else.
“Your brigadier has handled the majority of the clean-up,” Marchetti continued. “Good man you got there. Hate that you don’t have many left.”
I swallowed hard, knowing he was right. My Bratva was decimated, and it was going to take some time to get my forces in line to where I had been previously while trying not to attract any sort of attention from my enemies.
Namely the man sitting at my bedside.
Marchetti must have seen the look on my face because he chuckled. “Do you really think I want to face my wife’s wrath?” he asked lightly. “I’m not planning on taking over, and I won’t say anything to anyone else if that is what you are worried about. Fuck, Kirilenko, I’m about to be a father. That’s the only fucking thing on my mind.”
“Thanks,” I said, not caring what he thought about the word. He could easily step in and take over my Bratva, but he was choosing not to. I couldn’t thank him enough for that.
His eyes widened. “I should have had my video on to catch that.”
I chuckled before hissing a breath as the pain filtered through my abdomen. “Fuck, that hurt.”
“It’s only going to get worse,” he said as he stood. “Trust me on this one.” He took a step toward the door. “I will go get Naomi. How about you pretend that you just woke up, all right? She’s been worse than Ilsa.”
I didn’t respond, breathing through the pain as he walked through the door. Somehow I had survived an injury that should have killed me.
Someone upstairs was giving me a second chance at life, a life with Naomi.
I wasn’t going to waste this opportunity.