Page 150 of Secret Heir

My vision is blurring. I’m trying not to break down. I need to hold it together for my son.

“And I have the best papa in the world.” Daniel looks up at me with those gray eyes that mirror my own. “A papa who stayed with me in the hospital when I was sick and teaches me things and plays with me and makes me feel safe.” His small hand touches my face. “I’m glad you found us, Papa. I’m glad we’re a family.”

And with that, I break. I pull my son against my chest and hold him while he wraps his arms around my neck. My shoulders shake with sobs I can’t control.

“You’re the best son in the world,” I manage to say between sobs. “And I’m the luckiest papa alive. I love you so much, Daniel.”

“I love you too, Papa.”

Aria joins us, wrapping her arms around both of us, her pregnant belly pressed against my side. This is what I searched for during those eight years. This exact moment. This feeling.

My family. Whole. Safe. Together.

That night, after Daniel is asleep, I make love to my fiancée.

I’m careful with her body, but I worship every inch of her, my hands and mouth mapping the changes pregnancy has brought.

“You’re so beautiful,” I tell her, my lips against her swollen breasts. “Even more beautiful like this. I’m going to keep you pregnant forever.”

“Ew gross, a pregnancy kink,” she laughs.

“Can you blame me?” I kiss my way down her body, over the swell of our child. “You’re carrying my baby and about to become my wife.”

Aria’s sensitive everywhere and when she comes apart beneath me, crying my name, I follow her over the edge with her name on my lips. We lie together after, my hand resting on her belly where I can feel our child moving.

“When should we have the wedding?” Aria asks, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my chest.

“Whenever you want. Tomorrow. Next week. Next year. I don’t care as long as you’re mine.”

She smiles against my skin. “Let’s wait until after the baby comes. I want to be able to fit into a proper wedding dress and I want to enjoy the day without worrying about going into labor in the middle of the ceremony.”

“You’d be beautiful in a wedding dress at nine months pregnant.”

“Sweet talker.” She kisses my jaw and I can feel her roll her eyes. “But I still want to wait. I want Daniel adjusted to his school, and want our daughter or son to be involved.”

“Speaking of which—” I shift so I can see her face. “We should start thinking about names.”

“You pick.” She says it like it’s obvious. “You never got to be part of naming Daniel so this time, you choose.”

The trust in those words hits me hard and it steals my breath. She’s giving me this gift—the chance to name our child.

“I have some ideas,” I admit cautiously, unsure of how she’ll take them. She chose such a strong name for Daniel and I hope she’ll like my choices. “If you want to hear them.”

“I’m listening.”

I take a breath. “For a girl: Anastasia, after my grandmother.” I watch her face carefully. “She was an incredible woman. She survived the revolution, immigrated to America with nothing, and built a life from scratch. She was strong and fierce and loving, all traits I would want our daughter to have.”

Aria’s smile is soft as she strokes my hair. “Anastasia Sokolov,” she murmurs. “I love it. It’s perfect.”

I beam at her, happy that she likes the girl name. “And for a boy—” I hesitate, suddenly uncertain as this is the name that I know will make her eyebrow raise. “Roman.”

Sure as shit, it does. “Roman? That’s not traditionally Russian.”

I shrug, a bit self-conscious. “No, it’s not. It’s just…a name I’ve always liked. It’s strong and classic. It works in any language. Roman Sokolov.” I pause. “If you hate it⁠—”

“I actually don’t hate it.” She pauses. “Roman Sokolov. It’s unexpected but perfect. I love it.”

Relief washes through me. “So we’re agreed?” I ask hopefully. “Anastasia or Roman?”