Under Control: A Fake Marriage Mafia Romance
Under Control: Chapter 43

Five Months Later

I walk slowly through the garden in the back of the mansion. Winding gravel paths lead between the big, blooming flowers.

Oleg Fedorov walks with me. The old man seems diminished now, like the winter took a lot of energy out of him.

“I hear your daughter’s still on the run,” I tell him, trying not to smile as I say it. “What’s her name again? It’s funny, I was going to marry her, and now—” I gesture in the air as if she turned into a ghost.

He glares at me. “Yes, Natalya is still missing, but she’ll be back.”

“Natalya, that’s right. Well, thank your daughter for me, will you? Without her, I never would’ve married Karine.”

“I suppose you’re lucky then. I have plans for my daughter, however, and I was hoping you’d give me your approval.”

“We can discuss that another time, but I’m open to your ideas.”

He smile slightly and his expression softens. “There’s talk about your wife, you know.”

“I don’t like talk about Karine.”

“Nothing bad, don’t worry. The brigadiers are just beginning to wonder when you’re going to make an heir.”

“What, we can’t enjoy being newlyweds?”

“No, unfortunately. You’re the pakhan. That isn’t how it works for you.”

I grunt in response, although I know he’s right. The heir issue has been floating between me and Karine for a while now, and though I know she’s ready, I’m not sure I am.

Not because I don’t want to have babies with her. I want a dozen babies, a million of them. I want a family with my beautiful wife.

It’s more that things are good right now.

The Bratva has been calm ever since Aram’s death. The Armenians have been busy killing each other as Arsen wages a vicious and bloody civil war. Karine’s been nervous for her cousin, but I’m just happy that shit’s all the way down in Baltimore and far away from my beautiful wife.

I don’t want change. If I could live like this forever, with me and Karine and this perfect little space we’ve built for ourselves, I would.

“I know you’re right,” I tell Oleg grudgingly.

“Come on, it won’t be so bad. You’ll have nannies and such.”

“That’s not the problem.” I glare at him and he takes the hint. This is not a topic I plan on discussing any further.

He clears his throat and moves on. “You should know, the newly expanded trade routes up through Canada are working very well. Product is coming in at faster rates than ever before. But there are whispers that the Italians aren’t happy about it.”

“We’ll deal with the fucking Italians.”

“Perhaps. Still, I worry. If they decide to get aggressive⁠—”

I hold up a hand. “If you came all this way to warn me about Don Marino, I’m sorry you wasted your time. I’m aware of their actions and their stance on our expanding trade, and I don’t give a damn. Like I said. I’ll handle them.”

Oleg inclines his head as we come down the path and enter a small sitting area in the back of the house. Karine’s waiting for me there, lounging back on a bench and watching a fountain bubble. Little fish swim, their scales catching the sunlight.

“Then I’ll leave you in peace,” Oleg says. He nods politely to Karine and hurries away.

I watch him go, a bad feeling in my guts.

Which instantly disappears when Karine walks over and leans into me.

“What was that all about?” she asks. “You have a big, nasty scowl on your face.”

“I do not.”

“You most definitely do.” She kisses me and smiles brightly. “Come on, out with it. And don’t say it’s just business.”

I pull her roughly against me. “What if I said Oleg wants me and you to have a baby?”

“I seriously don’t love the idea of you talking about my reproductive organs with Oleg.”

I give her a hard look. “There were no organs involved in our conversation.”

“That’s a massive relief.”

“I’m serious, malishka. What if we started trying?”

She hesitates, licking her lips. “I guess… I can go off birth control.”

“And then?”

“And then what? You know how to make a baby.” Her cheeks turn bright red.

I tilt her face toward me. God, she’s so beautiful. This gorgeous, perfect girl. My fucking queen.

“I think we should start right now.”

She laughs uncertainly. “I mean, I’m not sure⁠—”

“Now, malishka.” I kiss her hard and hold her tight. “Or are you going to fight?”

“You’d like that.”

“Yes, I would.”

She sighs dramatically. “We really are perfect for each other.”

“We really are.” I slap her ass and throw her over my shoulder. She yelps, kicks, punches, but there’s no stopping me now.

I have an heir on my mind, and she’s going to give one to me.