AN: I can't apologise enough for the ridiculously long wait on this chapter! I have obviously not been able to keep to the deadline I set MYSELF. So, I'm sorry this has taken so long to update after I aimed to have this story completed before my holiday began.

Even now that I am back home from my trip, I've struggled to get back into the normal routine of my personal life, work and writing – which is why this chapter took a bit longer.

OTHER THAN THAT, if I have any readers that are in Paris, London OR Italy, please know that while on my travels, I absolutely fell in love with your cities and everything about them xx

Dimitri.

Just like that, everything around me fell away.

The only things that existed and mattered to me was the tiny hand on my cheek, and the wide brown eyes boring into my own.

Her eyes possessed so much wonder in them as she held my gaze. She made me feel so happy, and yet so heavyhearted at the same time.

For five months, I had thought this child was dead and that I would never get to meet her. When in reality, she had been in my childhood home while I was merely a few cities over.

Mama's words made a lot more sense to me now.

I had a lot of questions – questions that I was pretty sure I wouldn't like all the answers to. I could only imagine the planning that had gone into getting Roza to Baia without anyone knowing, but I wanted to know what everyone's role had been.

Did any of Roza's family actually return to Istanbul? Or had they all been living under this roof since leaving Chicago?

Seeing Kadir had been almost as much of a shock as seeing Roza had been, but something screamed deep inside me that he was by Roza's side as nothing but a brother. The smile that had been on his face as he had brought Sofya over was only proof that my gut was right.

But my questions weren't my priority at that moment. My priority was my very alive daughter and her mother. My girls. My family. I didn't care about anything else other than them.

I placed my much larger hand over the one Sofya still had up against my cheek, before craning my head so I could kiss the inside of her small palm.

Without warning Sofya began to squirm in Roza's arms, forcing her to adjust her grip. My stomach began to sink and a sickening feeling started creeping its way into me. I was a stranger to this child, and even though she was my blood, she didn't know me. Why would she want to be close to me?

It wasn't completly dismissible that Sofya was trying to get away from me. I had just scared her to the point of near tears, so it wouldn't have been completely unbelievable if it were true.

But after watching her squirm for a second longer, I was able to notice that she wasn't angling her body away from mine – but towards it. She had actually been trying to get closer to me. She was still small though and wasn't making much of an impact with her struggling, but Roza was obviously finding it all very funny.

"Okay, okay," she giggled while she fine-tuned a hold on our child. She then turned to give me an expectant look. "I think she wants you to hold her."

Panic seized in me. I'd been around babies before – my sisters had had three between them – but I hadn't been around while they grew up. I would only visit when I was able, and that meant I was extremely inexperienced with children.

Roza's smile only grew when she noticed the panic obviously flashing across my face. I was petrified at the thought of holding my daughter. What if I dropped her?

"She won't bite, Dimitri," Roza laughed again. "How about we all sit and you can have a chance to cuddle with her?"

I nodded wordlessly while staring at Sofya. I wanted that without a doubt. I wanted whatever connection I could have with our baby – despite my worries of dropping her or not being able to bond with her.

My body followed after Roza as she crossed the kitchen. I couldn't stop staring at Sofya as she peered at me from over Roza's shoulder. There was a curious look in her eyes, probably one that I deserved.

But there was something in that curiosity that made me think she knew exactly who I was. She may have only just met me, but children weren't stupid and they could recognise a connection if it was truly there.

As soon as I was seated, Roza transferred Sofya into my arms before taking the seat next to me. But I was faced with a new problem – I didn't know how to hold her.

Without needing me to say anything, Roza adjusted my hands so that they supported Sofya's back and bottom. As soon as her eyes met mine again, it was like I was thrust back to the same oblivion that the brown depths had put me in before.

I held her close to my chest, knowing without a doubt that it would take an army for me to let this precious bundle go. No matter what came at me, I would protect her. Even to the point of death.

Which was something someone else in Sofya's life had already vowed to do…from the moment that she found out she was pregnant.

I winced when Sofya suddenly grabbed a handful of my hair and gave it a curious tug.

Roza laughed. "She seems to be at a stage where she is grabbing everything," she said with a smile.

Seeing her smile with such ease made even me relax. Our daughter was in an exploration stage. I could only imagine the things she had been getting up to around Roza.

I brought my hand up to help pry her fingers from my hair, much like I had seen Roza do earlier. It worked, and her attention was drawn away from ripping out my hair.

Instead, Sofya suddenly became very interested in my bracelet. Her tiny fingers began pulling at the beads until the elastic band keeping them strung snapped back to my skin.

"You should have seen her when she was first born," Kadir sighed with a laugh from the other end of the table. "She's always been a curious baby."

My smile faded quickly and my sorrow returned in a flash. I was instantly reminded of everything that I had missed.

It wasn't me that had been there when Roza had given birth. I hadn't been the one to hold her hand and make sure she pulled through.

I hadn't been there to witness my daughter take her first breath or to hear her cry. I wasn't there when she smiled for the first time or giggled.

And that realisation broke my heart.

Looking briefly around the table, no one else seemed to have noticed Kadir's slip up – they all just continued smiling contently at the infant in my arms as she played with the shungite beads around my wrist.

Roza, on the other hand, noticed how my back went stiff and my smile was replaced with a small frown.

"Dimitri? Are you okay?"

It took a moment for me to be able to form a mental response. Was I okay?

No. I wasn't okay. I understood her reasoning for taking Sofya away, but I couldn't stop myself from thinking of everything I had missed. Mostly because of her choices, but also partly because of my own as well.

Wordlessly, I handed Sofya over to Roza and ignored the worried glance she shot my way. Her mouth gaped confusingly as I stood up and left the table. I caught the others as they exchanged more confused glances, but had already left the kitchen before I could hear them discuss my change in character.

I wasn't all too sure where I was planning to go once I had escaped the kitchen. There were only so many rooms in this house – and the prospect of going outside was gone due to the snow beginning to fall heavily.

Without realising, I had begun moving towards the staircase that led upstairs. I didn't particularly want to go upstairs, but something inside me pulled me upwards. It was a strange feeling, but after being away for so long, it didn't surprise me that I was feeling particularly nostalgic.

Even despite how long I had been away, I still remembered everything about this house; the blue painted wall that had faded more and more over the years, the soft tinkling of Vika's homemade wind chimes on the back porch, and even the fifth stair that creaked loudly with the right amount of weight placed on it.

I remembered all of it.

Before I knew it, I was standing in front of the closed door of my bedroom – a room that I hadn't slept or stood in since I was thirteen. Two decades was a long time to go without stepping foot in a singular room.

I held my breath as I twisted the doorknob and slowly pushed the door open. The difference was blinding and the everpresent twisting feeling in my stomach didn't subside.

The small room was so different from how it used to be when I occupied it.

While Mama had never changed the plain white walls, the room seemed brighter than I remembered it being. The wooden furniture also seemed to be the same, from the bed in the corner to the wooden desk up against the room's only window.

What made it brighter was the presence of life. Roza lived in this room, and she had been bringing Sofya up in it as well. Fresh clothes were stacked and folded on the desk, as well as various blankets and bedding.

The room was doubling as a nursery. A crib was placed on the far wall and inside were even more blankets.

I had to brace myself against the crib and force myself not to get angry. This was meant to be a happy moment – my daughter and fiancé were alive! And yet…I was distraught at the same time.

In the midst of my inner turmoil, Roza slipped into the room, softly closing the door behind her. She didn't say anything, and nor did I at first. We just stood in silence and several feet apart, until finally, I cracked.

"I missed out on so much," I mumbled while my hand rubbed over a single piece of the wooden crib. "I didn't get to take you to the markets. I didn't even get to buy anything my daughter needed."

Roza let out a nervous laugh, something she didn't do often. "Most of it is Karo and Sonja's. Only some of the clothes are new, and your mom knitted a lot of it."

For some reason her words made me feel worse than Kadir's had. Once that dam had collapsed in my mind, I was powerless at keeping anything contained.

"How dare you," I whispered, turning slowly to face Roza.

"What?"

"How fucking dare you!" I roared as all that anger finally caught up to me. I thought for a second that I may have scared Roza, or even disgusted her with my tone – but she just stood there, taking it. It was as if she thought or even knew that she deserved every scream.

"You kept me in the dark for five fucking months, Rose! I get why you did it, I do, but why let it drag on for that long? How could you let me think you and Sofya were dead for that long!"

"I know, Dimitri – and I'm so sorry for what I did. I-I wasn't thinking right and that night when I thought I was going into labour. I wasn't going to go through with it – I was going to tell you."

"So why didn't you?" I roared again, my anger spiking.

"Because if I had of actually given birth that night, we wouldn't have had a daughter. Period. She wouldn't have survived just like the Doctor told you – she was too premature. I wasn't thinking of us or how it would affect us. I was thinking of Sofya and how to keep her safe."

A frustrated sigh escaped my lips, and I squeezed my eyes shut while pinching the bridge of my nose. She didn't understand me.

"Everything I did from the moment I found out I was pregnant, was to keep her safe," she implored.

I hadn't realised that she had moved closer then, so the feeling of her thumbs stroking my cheekbones, made me jump. She didn't flinch when my eyes snapped open to glare at her, nor did she back away.

"You should have told me, Rose. I should have a say in what happens to our child."

"I know, but it's too late. We can't go back in time and change it. We have to deal with this as it comes."

"If you hadn't of made that choice for me, we wouldn't have to deal with it!"

"Yes, we would! I'm not the only one who had made shitty decisions lately!"

I attempted to ignore how right she was. Since arriving in America, we had made mistake after mistake – starting with when I allowed her father to get into my head and dictate how our relationship worked.

Perhaps if I had of never done that, she would have never been caught alone and consequently never captured by Nathan. I wasn't sure if anything else would have gone wrong, but my decision had been only the brink of the mistakes we had both made.

But even though her words made sense, I still couldn't get past how she could morally do what she had. She didn't know what could have happened in those five months that she was in Russia and I was back in Chicago.

Anything could have happened and she wouldn't know. But what if I had never returned? What if I hadn't of listened to Tasha and returned home? Would I still be unknown to the living child and fiancée that I had? Would Roza have found some way to contact me? I wasn't sure to be honest. But that didn't calm down the thoughts still racing through my mind.

"What would have happened if I had drowned my sorrows in booze and women? Huh? How would you feel knowing the father of your child was fucking other women while you were here caring for a child that I didn't know was alive?" I growled, letting my emotions begin to dictate what left my mouth. It wasn't a good choice and I knew it, but at this point, I didn't have the energy in me to stop it.

I knew the words were harsh as they left me, but my filter at this point was long gone, and despite my greatest efforts to see her crumble at my words, she stayed calm and only looked back up at me understandingly.

"How could you forgive me?"

"I wouldn't need to, because there wouldn't have been anything to forgive, Dimitri," she replied strongly, unfazed by the dark shadow my body seemed to be casting over her.

"That's bullshit," I growled while slipping into my Russian tongue. Naturally, my hands flew up and snatched hers away from my face, but I didn't let go of them.

I'd expected her to be confused by my words – she had never understood them before. But it appeared that spending five months with a foul-mouthed Russian grandmother had paid off. She'd understood me…

"It's not bullshit! I could never hold your actions from when you thought I was dead against you. That wouldn't be fair to either of us, but most importantly to you."

I once again replied without thinking.

"You're telling me that you wouldn't think of these hands touching another woman's body like they did your own?" she gulped, "- that you wouldn't think about the screams and moans that would come from someone other than you?"

I stared down at her heatedly. There was an excruciating silence that lingered between us as all we did was stare. If I hadn't of been searching her face for signs of giving into my words, I wouldn't have caught her once again denying what I was saying.

Seeing red that she didn't understand how hurt she should have been, I closed the distance between us and pushed her with my own body back until there was no remaining space between her and the door behind her.

"What if I had decided that it all wasn't worth it anymore, huh? What if-"

She caught onto where I was headed with my rampage before I had even finished. "Because I know what type of man you are, Dimitri," she interrupted, pushing her body against mine.

"No, you don't. You've known me a year out of my thirty-two. You can't say that you know what I would have done."

She scoffed. "I think I can. I've seen what kind of man you are with my own two eyes. I know how honourable you truly are and that you are a man of your word. I also know how strong you are. I wasn't scared of what you would do because I knew you wouldn't give up – you would live on with Sofya and me in your thoughts!"

"What makes this all worth it though, Rose? What fucking convinces me that the torture you put this family through was worth it?" I yelled, pushing her back and even making her cringe in my grasp.

I wouldn't have been shocked if she was afraid of me. My rage had reached a point where I was no longer caring for what I said or what I did. But the only thing more infuriating than her not being afraid of me was that she wasn't responding to me.

"Come on, Rose." I let go of her hands grabbed her shoulders pulling her off the door and towards me, my gaze burning into hers while rooting her to where she stood. "Tell me what makes this worth it."

She twisted in my arms, not necessarily fighting to get free. But she still hadn't answered me, and that was the only thing I could think of. I pushed her back, still holding her shoulders until she hit the wood once again.

A small gasp left her as she connected with it and for a moment, we just stared at each other – my face furious, her's of understanding and our chests heaving in unison.

My eyes searched her features and lingered on the bags under her eyes that would have come with caring for a young infant, and the red lashes across the whiteness of her eyes.

She was just as tired as I was.

Before when I had first seen her, all I had been able to see was her. I could only see that she was standing there in front of me – I hadn't actually looked at how she had changed in the past months.

Her cheeks were slightly sunken in, instead of their usual healthy plumpness, making her cheekbones and jawline slightly more pronounced than before. She was still exceptionally beautiful, but she had lost a significant amount of weight – and I couldn't figure out why.

There was a frailness to her – which I wasn't sure was the result of caring for a newborn or from carrying the weight of the decisions she had made.

Without realising, the hands that had been grounding her in front of me began to wander. They trailed down her arms before moving to hover over her stomach.

I could feel every curve she had under her dress and suddenly I didn't remember why I was mad at her. Just like before when every thought vanished from my conscious mind and left only Sofya in front of me – nothing matter but holding her gaze.

I don't remember when exactly it was that we began kissing – nor who initiated it.

One second I was assessing the changes to her body since the pregnancy, and the next, I had my lips fused with hers and my hands tangled deep within the tresses of her dark hair.

There was something overly primal about how we moved with one another. Roza had her arms tight around my neck, keeping my mouth pressed firmly against my own, while my hands ensured that our bodies never strayed from each other.

Lips were bitten and nails scratched while the force of me kissing her slammed her back up against the door even harder than before. But the moan that escaped her said that she didn't seem to mind all that much.

It was mere seconds later that our hands were doing more than just ensuring out proximity. While her hands fumbled at the belt at my waist and the buttons of my slacks, mine hiked up her dress and began tugging at her panties until they fell in a puddle at her feet.

As more and more of our clothes disappeared, the hunger that burned for her became insatiable. I needed to take a breather.

I ripped my mouth from hers but wasn't spared a moment before Roza latched herself to my throat.

There was urgency when I re-fused our mouths back together. We were desperate to feel and touch each other and our hands followed the desires we had instead of thinking of or continuing the argument we had previously been lost in.

It was something I had never experienced before honestly. We were so consumed in one another that our minds took the backseat completly and our bodies charged forward – taking what they had been deprived of for several months.

Connection.

It was what we had been missing. Those nights where I had lain in my bed alone and restless, I imagined that Roza was right beside me. Sometimes her limbs would be entangled with my own, and others she would be sound asleep facing away from me.

Either way, it was one of the things that kept me away from insanity.

Neither of us seemed bothered that we were mere puppets to our emotions. All I could think about was how wrong it would have felt to be with anyone else – if I had of tried to drown out the images of Roza with another woman. It wouldn't ever be the same as this.

She had full ownership over me, just like I did over her. That ring still downstairs was only a materialistic brand of something that surged much deeper between us.

Without thinking, I shifted her to that she instead had her back hard against the wall instead of the door. One of her legs wrapped around my waist, while the other flayed out and braced itself against the foot of the bed.

Between my hands holding Roza body up and my assault on her much-missed neck, that didn't leave me with much more movement of the rest of my body. Without needing prompting, Roza reached between us while angling her pelvis forward, and sank herself down.

We moaned in unison – moans so electrifying that it made my cock twitch deep inside her. I lifted my lips from her throat and was greeted instantly by her hot pants in my face, and her voice in my ear urging me on.

"Oh, Roza," I managed to gasp as she put her lips against my ear, whispering my name over and over, like a chant, or a prayer.

After that, everything became regrettably hazy. It was like a blur of rapid thrusts, loud pants and flushed flesh. I couldn't seem to focus on anything, and I knew if I didn't centre myself I was going to miss everything around me.

So I kissed her again. Then I touched her. I found her cheek with my fingers and then her jaw and then the corner of her lips. I had touched Roza many times, but this was different. Once I had relaxed, my thrusts became longer and more languid instead of hasty and rushed.

I didn't want to rush our time together, and I thought it was all working but the unbidden image of Roza in my arms – her head thrown back and her lips parted in a perfect O formation, while her breasts bounced with every thrust, was too consuming. But my official undoing was when I found the bundle of nerves underneath the small patch of dark curls, and felt her tighten around me and scream something entirely unfamiliar and that I could only imagine was as crude as her normal vocabulary.

It wasn't until I felt my own spasms from my orgasm subside, that I finally ceased my assault between her thighs. But I couldn't bring myself to part from her.

We stayed wrapped up in each other embrace, me still fully seated within her and softening slowly as the seconds ticked by.

"I hate you," I eventually choked out into the hollow of her neck. Although, I wasn't sure who I was trying to convince of this. Her or me?

She was silent for a moment, and the silence made my stomach twist and my heart stop beating. I didn't want her to believe me. "No you don't," she hushed breathlessly while still hugging me close.

I didn't realise that I had started crying until I felt her begin to stoke the back of my hair and shush me. I gripped her even tighter, uncaring for if it hurt her – I was too scared she would disappear if I let her go.

She was right. I didn't hate her, but I'd hated what she'd done.

I couldn't hate her. It didn't matter how truly furious I was with her – because I loved her and I loved the child she'd given me. I was angry that she kept me in the dark, but our daughter was safe because of the choice she made.

Our family was safe.

Who knew what would transpire in Chicago while we were gone. Even before I had left, Mason had heard whispers of Galina, the mob's lawyer, attempting to get the murder charges that were placed on Nathan, placed onto Roza instead.

I hadn't thought anything of these rumors at the time. They couldn't prosecute Roza if she was dead. But now that I had her in my arms, I knew the true meaning of those rumours.

All it would take was a convincing argument and a cheap judge to acquit Nathan of Inna's death, and release him from prison. In reality, it should be simple, seeing as he never had been the one to hurt Inna.

But with Roza and our daughter being so far away from him, it didn't matter if he was freed. Roza and Sofya were dead to everyone other than those in Baia. He had nothing left to chase.

In light of this, it didn't mean that I had forgiven Roza for what she had done, but it was a start. I had her in my arms, and our daughter was happy and healthy – that was all I needed.

We had a long road of recovery ahead of us. Trust needed to be reformed and bonds needed to be remade, but I didn't think for a second that we couldn't do it. We needed to live with our mistakes and make the most of every day that was thrown at us.

As long as we were a family, who said we couldn't do such a thing?

AN: Epilogue is 90% done!

FFT: I was re-reading the Dark Swan books by Richelle on my travels and noticed considerable similarities between King Dorian and Adrian. Did anyone else who has read the series see parallels between these characters?