A New Arrival
“It’s too early. She’s not due for another few weeks,” Stone repeated worriedly to the midwife.
Motya huffed once more, doing her best to focus on the laboring mother in front of her. “Mr. Tuff, would you like me to assist your wife or you? I am more than willing to let her labor on her own so I can repeat everything I have already said for the third time.”
Nick, Stone’s second-in-command, could see that his best friend was seconds away from pulling his gun on the innocent woman. She might have a sharp mouth, but she was far from deserving a bullet in her head because of it.
Positioning himself between them, Nick waited for Charlie’s screams to subside before speaking. “Brother, the doctor is almost here. How about we stay out of the nurse’s way so she can do her job?”
Charlie struggled to regulate her breathing as another painful contraction tore through her. She saw her husband standing on the edge of reason and desperately wanted to pull him back.
“Don’t—don’t shoot her!” she cried.
Stepping around Nick, Stone dropped to his knees beside the bed and took his wife’s hand in his. “Miłość, I’m not going to kill anybody. I just think we need to be at the hospital. Why won’t you allow us to go?”
Shaking her head back and forth, Charlie closed her eyes and turned toward the small fan blowing from the bedside table. “No. He’s going to be okay. I don’t want him born at a hospital. He needs to be born here…where I was.”
Stone lifted his gaze to Nick, silently admitting he wasn’t sure he could keep the promise he had made to his wife. With nothing more than a look, he spoke to the only other man in the room he trusted with his life.
A knock at the door pulled Nick’s attention away from the scene unfolding before him. Stepping backward, he cracked it open to find Bull on the other side.
“Doc’s here.”
Nick opened the heavy wooden door the rest of the way and ushered him inside. Dr. Miller wasted no time slipping into lifesaving mode. He understood the stakes. He would do everything in his power to make sure both mother and child survived this early arrival.
Barking orders to the midwife, the small team of two worked in seamless tandem, moving with urgency and precision to ensure a safe delivery.
“Stone, I need you up by Mama’s head. Coach her through the contractions,” Dr. Miller instructed, issuing steady guidance to both the midwife and Stone each time Charlie’s body began to labor again.
Within forty-five minutes of the doctor entering the room, the newest Tuff baby was born. Weighing just over six pounds, Antoni Stone Tuff announced his arrival with a furious scream that echoed through the old castle walls.
After catching his first glimpse of Antoni—named after Stone’s father—Nick quickly snapped a picture of the new family together. Slipping quietly from the room, he made his way downstairs, where a group of men waited anxiously for an update.
Holding out his phone for all of them to see, Nick announced the arrival of their newest member. Cheers erupted, echoing off stone and steel. Laughter followed. A few of the men clapped each other on the back in celebration. After accepting a drink and raising it in silent acknowledgment of the moment, Nick excused himself and headed back up the winding staircase of the old castle.
Passing the birthing room, he turned left and walked toward the last set of doors at the end of the hallway. With a light knock against the wood, he waited for Sasha’s voice before stepping inside.
Ivan Petrov lay propped up in bed, a muted soap opera playing on the television across the room. The moment Ivan and Sasha saw Nick enter, they both straightened.
“Is he here?” Ivan asked, hope thick in his voice. “Has my grandson been born?”
Nick crossed the room and handed over his phone, allowing the older man to see his first grandchild. “He’s small because he came early,” Nick said evenly, “but both mother and baby are doing well.”
Holding the phone in his trembling hands, Ivan stared at the screen as tears slipped down his cheeks. “Идеальный русский принц,” (The perfect Russian prince), he murmured, smiling at the baby.
“Дайте-ка подумать!” (Let me see!) Sasha demanded, reaching for the phone.
“Не разбивай мой телефон!” (Don’t break my phone!) Nick scolded, quickly plucking it from Ivan’s grasp before it could tumble to the floor. Within seconds, both men’s cell phones chimed in unison, signaling an incoming message.
“There. Now you both have the picture,” Nick told them dryly. “I swear to God, it’s like dealing with children when it comes to you two,” he muttered under his breath.
Standing quietly beside Ivan’s bed, Nick watched as the two older men cooed over the image of Charlie and Stone cradling their newborn son. He wasn’t sure there would ever come a day when the family felt entirely cohesive, but somehow, they had reached something close to it.
The Tuff family now lived within the very castle Charlie had grown up in. They had not only moved into Petrov territory—they had successfully taken over the Petrov crime family itself.
With Ivan’s cancer leaving him more bedridden than mobile, his time actively leading had come to an end. Nick and the others made certain to include both him and Sasha in key decisions, honoring the legacy they had built. Still, for the most part, the two elders were finally allowing themselves to enjoy a quiet retirement—together.
A knock at the door drew their attention. Just as Nick moved to answer it, Dr. Miller cracked it open and leaned inside. “Могу ли я войти?” May I come in?
With a wide smile, Ivan waved him forward. “Come! Come! I cannot wait to hear about my grandson!”
Dr. Miller stepped inside and took a seat on the edge of the bed, pulling his stethoscope from around his neck to begin his routine assessment. While Ivan proudly displayed the picture on his phone, the doctor smiled, nodding at the sight of the tiny, red-faced infant.
“Ivan, you and Sasha may go see him anytime you’d like,” Dr. Miller said gently. “I think Katerina would truly appreciate that.”
“Oh, I will,” Ivan promised, eyes still glued to the screen. Then he looked up at Nick. “Nicky, will you wheel me down the hall so I can see him?”
Dr. Miller shot Nick a knowing glance, fully aware of how much he despised that nickname. Just as Nick opened his mouth to correct Ivan for what felt like the thousandth time, the door swung open without warning.
Stone stepped inside.
“My son!” Ivan exclaimed, reaching both hands toward him. “How are you, my boy? Is my daughter happy and healthy?”
Stone crossed the room and bent to press a respectful kiss to his father-in-law’s cheek. A soft chuckle escaped him. “Yes, Ivan. Mother and baby are bonding as we speak.”
“Why didn’t you bring him?” Ivan demanded, brows lifting in mock offense.
“You think Charlie spent nine months nurturing and growing him inside her, just to have him taken from her arms minutes after birth?” Stone scoffed. “I think the cancer has gone to your brain, old man. That child is never going to be out of his mother’s sight. Hell, he’ll probably be running the company one day with her watching over his shoulder.”
Stone shook his head, laughing as Ivan grumbled under his breath.
The men continued talking, reliving the birth and already debating what Antoni would grow into, when both Stone’s and Nick’s phones buzzed in their pockets. The shift in energy was immediate.
Stone pulled his out first.
Mikhail: Five cars just pulled up in the driveway.
Mikhail: Russian President is here.
Nick read over his shoulder. The joy in the room thinned into tension.
Sharing a look of irritation, they informed Ivan and Sasha of the unexpected arrival. Ivan immediately demanded to be placed in his wheelchair so he could properly greet his old friend.
With Dr. Miller’s assistance, Ivan was changed into more presentable clothes while Stone and Nick headed downstairs toward the newly renovated study.
The moment they stepped inside, they found six suited men standing at attention around the perimeter of the room. Behind Stone’s desk sat the President.
This was not the first time the man had made himself comfortable in their home. It irritated them both, but there was little they could do about it.
They were dual citizens now. And in this country, the Russian Prime Minister was their boss.
“Mr. Prime Minister,” Stone greeted with a respectful nod, extending his hand across the desk.
“I hear congratulations are in order!” the President boomed. “When do I get to see my grandson? And what is his name?”
Nick’s eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly toward Stone. His grandson? That was certainly news to him.
Stone lowered himself into the chair opposite the desk, a quiet chuckle leaving his chest. “You and Ivan both seem to believe I can simply tear that child from my wife’s arms,” he replied evenly. “I imagine you’ll see my son the moment his mother allows it.”
The Prime Minister threw his head back, shoulders rising and falling with laughter. “I would expect nothing less from Katerina. She is not a woman one trifles with. Motherhood will only sharpen that edge. I should know—my sister grew more protective with each child she bore.”
A knock sounded at the door, quickly followed by Sasha pushing Ivan into the room in his wheelchair. Greetings were exchanged, hands clasped, backs patted. Congratulations circled the room once more before glasses were poured and the men settled into their seats.
Stone leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the man sitting behind his desk.
“You want to tell me why you’re really here?” he asked the Prime Minister.
Placing his drink carefully on the desk, the Prime Minister inclined his head toward Stone. “You are perhaps one of my most loyal men—the kind who does not waste time with nonsense. I appreciate that about you.”
Stone did not answer. Instead, he flicked a glance toward Nick, silently conveying that he found little comfort in the compliment.
“I have a problem,” the Prime Minister continued. “One that requires your particular expertise. An accountant in our finance department decided to line his pockets before departing Russia. We believe he is in London, keeping a low profile. I need you to discreetly locate him and bring him back so we can… reform him.”
Stone leaned back in his chair, slowly swirling the dark liquor in his glass as he considered the request. “When you say locate him, should I assume you do not know exactly where he is?”
“That would be correct,” the Prime Minister admitted without hesitation. “London is our best estimate. It is where he was last seen.”
Nick had already pulled out his phone. A brief message was sent.
Within minutes, a knock sounded against the heavy wooden door. Bernie stepped inside when permitted, his expression focused. “You needed me?”
Nick motioned him toward the new leather sofa. Dragging the coffee table closer, he gestured for Bernie to set up his laptop. “We need you to find someone for us,” Nick said evenly. “The Prime Minister believes he is hiding in London.”
Bernie flipped open his laptop, his fingers immediately flying across the keys. After a few seconds, he glanced up. “Alright. I’m going to need a name.”
“Boris Federov,” one of the Prime Minister’s guards supplied. “He worked inside the government’s finance department until a few days ago. The last confirmed sighting we have is airport surveillance—he was seen stepping off a commercial flight from Russia to London. We believe he may have changed his name to avoid detection.”
The room fell silent except for the steady clicking of keys.
Within moments, Bernie turned the laptop around and pressed play. Grainy airport footage filled the screen. “Is this him?”
Stone and Nick leaned forward, watching as the man in the video disembarked from the plane and blended into the crowded terminal. He was young. Well-dressed. Composed. At one point, he cast a subtle glance toward the surveillance camera before lifting his jacket collar slightly around his neck.
“That’s him,” the Prime Minister confirmed with a firm nod. “Can you track where he went after leaving the airport?”
Bernie rotated the laptop back toward himself, already typing again. “I can tap into London’s citywide camera grid and start tracing his movements,” he said evenly. “The question is—how much time are you giving me?”
“Thirty days,” the Prime Minister replied. “I want him back within thirty days. I need him in our custody before certain members of my cabinet begin their reelection campaigns. This boy didn’t just steal money from Russia—he also walked away with a list of names that is very important to me.”
Stone lifted a hand, cutting him off. “We don’t need the details. We just need to know one thing. Do you want him alive or dead?”
“Alive,” the Prime Minister answered without hesitation.
A sharp chime broke the tension in the room—Stone’s phone.
He glanced down at the message, read it once, then slipped the device back into his pocket. Rising from his chair, he addressed the room calmly. “We’ll make it happen. If you’ll excuse me—my wife and son need me.”
Without waiting for dismissal, he left the study and headed toward the birthing room.
As he walked the corridor, the weight of the request settled over him. There was no universe in which Charlie would be pleased about him leaving the compound right now. And if he were being honest with himself, there was nothing anyone could say to make him want to go.
He needed to be here. With his wife. With his son.
Yes, the outside world demanded attention. Yes, politics and power were constant. But this—this fragile, sacred beginning—was his priority.
Stopping just outside the bedroom door, Stone straightened his jacket and rolled his shoulders back, adjusting the mask he wore for everyone else. He placed his hand on the handle and counted slowly to ten.
This was not the moment to blur business with family. Even if, technically, they were one and the same. And knowing Charlie, she would understand that better than anyone.
The moment he opened the door, he was greeted by three smiling women.
At some point, Nick’s girlfriend—whom most affectionately called Nurse Alina—had arrived and made her way upstairs. She now sat propped against the headboard beside Charlie, cradling the newest Tuff in her arms.
“He’s amazing,” Alina said warmly as Stone approached.
Stone moved to the bedside and sat beside his wife, his eyes softening as they fell on his son. “Yes, he is,” he agreed quietly. “I wonder if he understands how strong of a mother he has.”
“Oh, stop it,” Charlie giggled, though her brow arched with suspicion as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “You’re trying to flatter me… why?”
Stone cleared his throat, pivoting quickly. He would not survive this interrogation in his current state. “What did you need, Miłość? Why did you call me up here?”
Charlie motioned for Motya to step closer to the bed. “Motya says I can move into the nursery now. She doesn’t want me walking, though. So I thought maybe you could help?”
A slow grin spread across Stone’s face. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to Charlie’s forehead.
“Would my queen prefer to be carried,” he asked softly, “or would you like a wheelchair?”
“I do not need to be carried,” Charlie laughed softly. “I simply thought you might want to help get Antoni and me to our temporary living quarters.”
“That,” Stone replied smoothly, “I can absolutely do.”
It took a few careful minutes, but soon Charlie, Alina, and Stone were settled comfortably in the nursery. At Charlie’s request, renovations had transformed the space. A connecting room now held a king-sized bed and a full bathroom, allowing the new parents to remain close to their son without sacrificing comfort. For the first week, Charlie and Stone would handle every feeding, every cry, every moment. After that, a full-time nanny would move into the adjoining bedroom and assist with the transition.
Once Charlie was tucked securely into bed, Stone sat beside her, watching in reverent silence as she fed their son for the first time. He reached out and brushed his finger gently along Antoni’s cheek, marveling at the tiny features, the steady breathing, the life they had created together.
“I am never going to tire of watching you be a mama,” he murmured softly, his voice meant for both of them.
When Charlie finished repositioning Antoni, she leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes, exhaustion finally settling over her delicate frame.
“So,” she said quietly, “are you going to tell me what is happening downstairs, or do I need to ignore doctor’s orders and go find out for myself?”
Stone let out a low chuckle. “The doctor ordered you not to find out?” he teased. “Sounds like he knows exactly what he’s talking about.”
Charlie never opened her eyes. Instead, she chose to indulge him.
“Actually,” she replied calmly, “he told me I’m not allowed to get out of bed for a few days. However, I can absolutely ignore his recommendation and march downstairs myself. I’m sure my father would be more than happy to tell me everything I want to know.”
Stone released a slow breath and glanced across the room at Alina, who was folding baby blankets while very obviously listening.
“Maybe I don’t want to say right now,” Stone offered carefully.
Charlie’s lips curved slightly. “Why? Because of Alina? She knows more about this family than most. Now spill it… or I will do exactly what I said.”
Stone studied his wife as she rested against the pillows, eyes still closed, appearing far more relaxed than she truly was. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind she would uncover the President’s visit with or without him. The question was whether he wanted her to hear it from someone else.
She had stepped back from her role in the family business because she believed he was the right man to lead. He had no intention of proving her wrong.
The corners of her mouth lifted higher. She knew she had him.
This little performance—calm, stubborn, strategic—was Charlie’s quiet way of reminding him who he had married.
Stone opened his mouth to finally give in. A knock sounded at the door.
Before he could respond, it opened. Nick and Bernie stepped inside without waiting for permission.
“Oops! Sorry about that, Charlie,” Nick blurted, immediately pivoting toward the wall. He threw a hand over Bernie’s eyes for good measure. “We didn’t know you’d be feeding the baby.”
Charlie laughed at their exaggerated reaction and calmly draped a blanket over herself. “It’s fine, Nick. Breastfeeding is completely natural. A woman shouldn’t have to hide the fact that she’s feeding her baby.”
“I know,” Nick replied over his shoulder, still facing the wall. “I’m just concerned junior here hasn’t witnessed that sort of thing before.”
Bernie swatted Nick’s hand away from his face. “I’ve seen it before—from your sister,” he shot back, clearly pleased with himself for delivering what he considered a devastating insult.
Nick slowly turned toward him, one eyebrow lifting in approval. “Wow. I didn’t know you had that in you.” He gave a slight bow. “Respect.”
Stone shook his head at the two of them before redirecting the conversation. “Actually, you’re both right on time. Charlie wants to know what’s happening downstairs. Perhaps one of you would like to fill her in?”
Nick exchanged a brief, measured look with Stone before moving to sit at the edge of the bed. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, then carefully explained the Prime Minister’s unexpected visit and the request that had followed.
When he finished, silence settled over the nursery.
Charlie’s hand instinctively moved to her mouth as she worried her bottom lip, her mind already calculating angles and outcomes.
“Have you uncovered anything else about this man?” she asked Bernie.
Bernie adjusted his laptop on his knees. “A deeper search shows he purchased his ticket using falsified identification. He’s currently operating under the name Luca Gladstone. From what I can tell, he hasn’t left London. In fact, he appears to be attempting to blend in—moving within wealthy social circles. Upscale districts. Private clubs. The rich and snobbish seem to be his preferred camouflage.”
“There are papers showing his intent to purchase a flat in Belgravia,” Bernie explained. “Those places don’t go for anything under a few million.”
“Perfect,” Charlie piped up.
Nick turned toward her slowly. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“Nick, you and Alina can go undercover,” Charlie continued without hesitation.
Nick’s surprise was evident as he glanced at Alina, whose mouth had fallen open. “What? What do you mean?” she asked.
“Well, you can’t simply do a snatch and grab,” Charlie reasoned calmly. “And the President wants him brought back alive, which means killing him is not an option. This is the perfect scenario for the two of you.
“We will rent a mansion for a month so you can pose as international lovers. Bernie can track where Federov is—or where he is likely to be—so that you can conveniently find yourselves in the same places.
“Earn his trust. Once you have it, you bring him back here. The President will be satisfied, and the rest of us can continue with business as usual.”
Stone leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple. “You are remarkable,” he murmured. “Have I told you how much I love you?”
Charlie laughed softly at the adoration in his eyes and gently pushed against his chest. “How about all of you leave now? I am exhausted, and our little one has finally fallen asleep. Go work out the details. I will still be here when you are finished.”
Carefully sliding from the bed, Stone motioned for the others to follow. One by one, they slipped quietly from the nursery, leaving Charlie alone to rest with her son for the very first time.
As mother and child drifted into sleep together, Motya stepped forward and gently pulled the covers higher. She adjusted Antoni’s position with practiced hands, ensuring both were safe and comfortable.
Only once she was satisfied did the midwife return to her quiet tasks, moving about the nursery with steady purpose as she finished preparing the room for its newest and most precious arrival.
