I had held Ivan’s hand before he was wheeled into surgery. His specialist had diagnosed a serious varicocele and strongly suspected surgery would improve the health and number of his sperm. Ivan had agreed immediately to the procedure, and we were both hoping it would have a positive effect.
After he was discharged from his outpatient procedure, he sat beside me and held my hand as we had our first IUI. He had been giving samples at the clinic for the last ten days to get enough of his swimmers for an insemination procedure. It was a complicated process of collecting, washing, and choosing the strongest sperm to inject directly into my uterus. I had taken a course of injectable drugs to prepare my body for the baby bomb. They had made me a hormonal mess, but it was worth it for a better chance to conceive.
“Okay,” Ruby announced as she entered the room with a basket. “I’ve got one ice pack, three scoops of strawberry ice cream, a phone charger, a Gatorade, and a Cherry Coke. Did I forget anything?”
“Nope!” I happily took the bowl of ice cream and the Coke. Ivan took the other things and got himself situated, lifting up the sheet and gingerly placing the ice pack on his family jewels. “Thank you.”
Ruby made a face. “Yeah, I’m going to bleach my brain now. If you two need anything else not related to his swollen speed bag, message me.”
Ivan made a throaty sound of irritation. “I hope she remembers this the next time she needs help.”
“I’m pretty sure she’s doing everything she can to never remember the sight of you putting an ice bag on your—"
“Yeah,” he cut me off with a frown. “I get it.”
Deciding it wasn’t nice to tease him, I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I love you.”
He harrumphed and let out a noisy sigh. “I love you, too, even if you are enjoying my predicament a little too much.”
“I mean, listen, if this works,” I gestured to my belly, “I’m going to be in a world of hurt in nine months when your giant-headed baby is born.”
He seemed to consider that. “Okay. That’s fair, I guess.”
“I think so.” I rubbed his arm. “I know this whole experience has been difficult. Going to therapy at the clinic, letting that doctor fondle you with his cold, wrinkly hands, and choosing to go through with this surgery today. I know it wasn’t easy, and I know you’re in pain.”
“It’s worth it,” he assured me. “I’d do it all over again.”
“Well, let’s hope you don’t need to go through this again.” I turned my gaze back to the television where the nightly news was beginning. The last few weeks had been wall-to-wall coverage of corruption, the rise of white nationalism in the city, and the sex trafficking ring operating inside the jail. Five guards had been arrested and indicted for the murder of Maria del Carmen Riojas. Kavanaugh, who had been dumped at in front of an emergency room with multiple broken bones and two severely fractured hands, was in jail awaiting trial for his attacks on my sister and a dozen other former prisoners who had come forward.
“He did a good thing, you know?” Ivan gestured to the television. “Teague,” he clarified, as if I didn’t know. I raised an eyebrow at that, wondering how many pain pills he had taken. Before I could ask, he said, “Do you think he knew? That sending you that box of files and hard drives would lead to this?”
The morning after Ruby’s ordeal and Teague’s suicide, the three of us had been having breakfast when the doorbell rang. I had expected to find the police or Detective Santos to ask questions, but it was just a box addressed to me from Teague. He had mailed it the morning he before killed himself. There was only a short two-word note from him inside.
I’m sorry.
His apology made more sense once I realized that he had been the distributor for the films made inside the jail. He had been the one who took requests and handled all of the money from the operation, money that went back to the hate group Mueller controlled. There weren’t any direct links to Mueller, of course. He was too smart for that and used shell companies and pass-throughs, but there were enough dots to connect to make it very clear that he was involved.
It hadn’t taken Ruby or me long to decide what to do with all of the information inside. We contacted Lena, who gave us the names of journalists and social justice influencers she trusted to handle the story correctly. Ruby had insisted on making copies to send out to the journalists and influencers. We put the originals and our own set of documents in two different safes, just in case.
It hadn’t taken long for the first story to break. Once it hit the papers and the internet, all hell broke loose. There were protests, mass resignations, and public shaming unlike anything I had ever seen. Mueller had lost his right to develop that area along the proposed I-45 expansion. Yuri and a group of local Houston developers and contractors he had handpicked put together a lightning fast bid that won the right to the project. Our land was tied up in the deal because of Ivan’s trade with Mueller, but working with Yuri was a much more acceptable and highly profitable situation.
“I think Teague hoped it would,” I answered finally. “I think he trusted me to do the right thing.”
“Like you always do,” Ivan said, lifting my hand to kiss the back of it. His gaze drifted back to the television. “Can we watch something else?”
“Like?”
“Something not so serious,” he said, wincing as he shifted. A thought seemed to strike him because he smiled. “Beauty and the Beast! Let’s watch that.”
“What? Why?”
He yawned and wiggled his toes, further confirming my suspicion that he was high as a kite on pain meds. “Ruby says I eat eggs like one of the guys in the movie.”
I busted out laughing. “Oh, my God! You do! You’re Gaston!”
“Well, let’s see,” he gestured to the television.
“Okay.” I found the film in our Disney+ app and hit play. As it started, I snuggled closer to Ivan and ate my ice cream. When I was done, I put my head on his chest. He began to comb his fingers through my hair in the most gentle way. There was something so wonderful about these happy, quiet moments of marriage.
Not that those quiet moments ever lasted long in this house.
“Blyad,” he exclaimed as Le Fou and Gaston sang about wrestling and biting and danced through the tavern. “I fucking am Gaston.”
Overcome with the giggles, I buried my face against his thick, muscled arm. He might have the boisterous manners and the oversized diet of Gaston, but his big, loving heart was all Beast.
And it was all mine.
The End.
Also by Roxie Rivera
Her Russian Protector
Ivan
Dimitri
Yuri
Nikolai
Sergei
Sergei 2
Nikolai 2
Kostya
Alexei
Fighting Connollys
In Kelly’s Corner
In Jack’s Arms
In Finn’s Heart
Debt Collection
Collateral
Collateral 2
About the Author
A New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, I like to write super sexy romances and scorching hot erotica. I live in Texas on five acres with my husband, two daughters and our wild and ever-expanding menagerie of pets.
You can find me online at www.roxierivera.com.