Page 158 of The Wrong Monster

A faint hum draws my attention, and I look toward the doorway, where Matilda disappeared minutes ago to take a shower.

Two months until our wedding.

A daughter asleep against my chest.

A woman I love waiting for me.

And an empire that, for the first time in my life, can wait.

“I’ll handle what needs handling,” I tell him. “Tomorrow at nine, starting with Ariadna’s request. Tonight, I’d like to remember what a regular sleep schedule feels like.”

“You promise?”

I look at the tiny face tucked beneath my chin.

“You may have to wake me.”

Timur laughs.

“But I’ll answer,” I say. “Nine.”

And for once, that feels like the right answer.

Eloise has one tiny fist tucked beneath her chin, her mouth slightly open. I have no idea how something this small can command an entire room without making a sound.

I shift the baby higher against my chest.

“I trust you,” I tell my brother.

“Then trust me when I tell you which decisions need your attention.”

“Fair enough.”

“And if I need you before then?”

“Call. I’ll answer that too.”

“Actually, wait,” I add. “Talk me through Ariadna’s request.”

He does. I ask a few questions, then give him my answer. “Tell her to go ahead. We’ll check in at nine.”

Art’s update arrives while we’re talking. No renewed move from Yuri’s remaining men. I send back one instruction: keep the protection in place.

He sighs. “How’s Matty doing, then? She’s recovered okay?”

“Mmm. She’s better; less anxious now. I think it all just caught her off guard.”

Eloise, five weeks early, had spent fourteen days in the NICU before they finally let us take her home. Fourteen days of machines, alarms, doctors reassuring us, and me discovering exactly how little control a man can have over anything that actually matters.

But now?

Perfect. Matilda is perfect. Our daughter is perfect.

And somehow, we’ve even figured out nights. Mostly.

A yawn slips out, catching me by surprise.

“Was that you?” Timur asks incredulously.