Chapter 45

by Michelle M Pillow & Mandy M Roth

Wail to the Chief?  

Mandy leaned back, reclining in Armando’s arms as she stared across at Michelle and Dmitri. Between them was a bundle of blue that had only recently stopped squirming.

A baby boy.

The cutest darn baby boy she’d ever seen. Even with being brand spankin’ new, the baby already took after his father.  

It was hard to believe her best friend was a mommy now. Michelle had endured seventy-two hours worth of labor. Seventy-two was the exact number of stitches Dmitri had ended up with after Michelle had clawed his upper arm open during labor. The wound was already healed over. Mandy couldn’t help but cringe. Michelle had done a number on the man. To Dmitri’s credit, he never faltered during the delivery, staying by Michelle’s side, offering ice chips and even Mike if she felt the need to claw someone again. The doctor had stopped, assuming Dmitri needed medical attention. After Michelle put the fear of God in him, he stopped worrying about Dmitri and focused on the mother-to-be.  

Armando caressed Mandy’s neck and traced a finger down her shoulder. The gesture was comforting yet missed its mark. “Someday, that will be us, kitten,” he whispered.

She nodded, not really believing his words. For the moment, she just wanted to be happy for her friend. “Any headway?” she asked, referring to a name for the baby. It had been a ping pong of this name and that all morning. Armando had even trumped a few of them, citing this person or that he’d known over the ages with the names.

Michelle opened her mouth but Dmitri cut her off. “No. We are not naming him Humphrey.”

“Why not?” Michelle asked, huffing. “It’s a perfectly good name. It was my great-great-great…”

“Enough with the greats,” Dmitri ground out. “It’s not happening. I can hear the dog humping jokes already. Nope. Not doing it to my son.”

“Your son?” Michelle arched her blonde brows. “I’m sorry. I don’t recall you yanking a melon through your nose so don’t go all ‘my son’ on me.”

Dmitri sighed. “I’m sorry. I meant our son. We’re not doing that to our son.” He squared his shoulders, staring down at the tiny bundle of blue. “What about Boryenka?”

“Boring-you-ka what?” Michelle blinked.

Mandy stifled a laugh and Armando shook his head, indicating she should avoid getting involved.  

“It’s Russian,” Dmitri said, beaming. “It’s a strong name for a strong man.”

Biting her lower lip, Mandy tried not to laugh when Michelle looked pleadingly at her. She cleared her throat. “Wow, wasn’t that one kid who used to have his lunch money stolen daily when we were kids named that?”

There was no kid.

Michelle shook her head and then stopped, smiling wide. “Oh, yeah. That kid. Yes. He was. Hardly manly.”

Dmitri paled. “Take it off the list. No kid of mine… erm… ours will be named that.”

Armando eased his hand around Mandy’s and gave a slight tug. “Come. We shall leave them to argue over names. Have no fear, they will still be doing it when we see them next.”

Knowing he was right, Mandy nodded, allowing him to lead her from the room. For a moment she could have sworn she heard Michelle suggest naming the baby after a pasta dish.

No. She couldn’t have.

“I’m not naming him Alfredo!” Dmitri’s voice boomed through the hall, followed quickly by the sound of the baby crying. “Shit.” There was a bang and then Dmitri rushed from the room. “Ouch,” he said, dodging a water pitcher. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell or cuss in front of him.” He stuck his bottom lip out. “Or give you that look. Or…”

Armando chuckled as he continued down the hall with Mandy’s hand in his. She stared at the babies in the nursery on the way past and forced her gaze forward. Armando caught her peeking at them and sighed. “Kitten, one day we will. Tru said as much.”

“I know. I’m fine with waiting.” She concentrated on the floor. “We’re not ready for a baby yet. I know.”

“We’re more than ready. When the time is right, it will happen. I’m sure of it.” He corralled her towards the elevator. “I need to make one stop before we head home.”

“What do you need to do?”

He blushed. “Figure out a way to sign the White House’s deed over to the right people.” He shook his head. “I should have never made a wager with Roosevelt on who could kill the bigger lion.”

Gulping, Mandy stared up at him. “You killed a lion?”

“Trust you to focus on that part and not on the fact we have the deed to the White House.” He bent, kissing the tip of her nose. “You, kitten, are something else.”

Mandy snickered. “Hon, when you’re giving all the rest of the things you own again away, think you can do something for Dmitri and Michelle?”

Armando flashed a wicked smile. “It’s already done. Dmitri’s properties have been put back into his name. He argued with me on it but when I pointed out the taxes I’d be left with if I kept them, he saw reason.”

“You guilted him into taking his property back?” she asked in utter disbelief.

“Yes.” Armando flashed a winning smile. “I also guilted him into accepting his partnership in our joint businesses.”

“For tax reasons too?”

“No.” Armando exited the elevator, pulling him with her. “Because I explained how very much I wish to have more time with you so we can work on expanding our family. I then pointed out that Michelle would more than likely kill him if he was home too much. He saw reason.”

“Or realized you were right. She’d totally kill him.”

 *

Dmitri peeked back into the hospital room, wondering what Michelle’s temperament was now. He’d tried to read up on pregnancy, giving birth and being a new mother. Nowhere in the books did it mention the woman may actually try to remove a limb from her mate.

Glancing down the length of himself, Dmitri swallowed hard, thankful Michelle’s swipe during the delivering of their son hadn’t been lower.

Our son.

The very thought brought a smile to his face and a swell of satisfaction to him. They’d done it. They’d brought a little perfect person into the world. He was entirely too cute and made noises that were crosses between purrs and growls. He had a healthy appetite too. And, like his father, seemed to be a breast man.

Dmitri wagged his brows as he entered the darkened room. The baby was asleep in his portable bassinet and Michelle was on her side, resting. Wary, he approached slowly.

She opened an eye and grinned lazily up at him.

Taking it as a sign of peace, Dmitri moved around the other side of the bed and climbed in behind her. He drew her back against him and closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax for the first time since she’d woke him from a deep sleep telling him it was time.

 *

 Armando reclined in the chair, his focus on Mandy as she walked around the oval office. Never before had he seen her so interested in something. Her green eyes were wide and she talked a mile a minute, asking this question and that. She was still in awe of the oval office actually being oval. She was also upset about spilling cranberry juice on the carpet. She seemed to think it was going to bring them seven years bad luck. The only thing that came of it was three men in suits bearing towels and stain removing abilities that would make Martha Stewart jealous.

Amused, Armando allowed her to enjoy herself. “Are you going to tell me why you suggested I hold the deed as ransom?”

Mandy stopped in front of the white marble mantel. She glanced back at him. “To assure the person you want ends up in office, of course.”

He grinned at her logic, twisting slightly in the chair. He extended an arm and toyed with the end of the President’s flag before facing Mandy once more. “Oh, yes, of course.” He had no intention of doing that but was too caught up in Mandy’s antics to mind the play. “And who do you hope wins?”

She licked her lower lip. “I may not be hundreds of years old but I’m old enough to know there are some topics you do not discuss with anyone. Politics is one of them.”

“And another?”

She twisted, her blouse catching just right, tugging against her chest, making his cock harden. “Taking you for communion. Oh, and gun control.”

He flashed fang, aroused by the sheer sight of her. “We should go.”

“Or not,” she said, kicking her heels off and approaching him slowly.

“Kitten, anyone could walk in.”

“I know.” She stopped, lifting her left foot, her nose wrinkling. “Eww, I stepped in the wet spot.”

Armando winced and adjusted himself. “Kitten, you are killing me.”

“I could totally fix that problem,” she said, tugging at her blouse, revealing even more breast.

Pained, he shook his head, his gaze going towards the door. “Mandy.”

“Ar-man-do,” she said, drawing out his name as she unfastened her buttons, one by one. She wiggled her hips, enticing him more. “Or can I call you Mr. President?”

“You,” he conceded, “can call me anything you want.”

She paused, running her fingers over the edge of the Resolute desk. “Should we christen this?”

Armando slipped his jacket off. “Do you honestly believe we’d be the first people to make love on this desk?”

“No,” she said. “But I do think you’d be the first vampire to. Wait,” she giggled, “do politicians count as bloodsuckers too?”

Catching her around the waist, Armando tackled her lightly, easing her onto the desk. He locked gazes with her. “Mmm, what do you say to a little debriefing?”

She blinked, her green eyes full of mischief. She thrust her hips against him. “I say hurry the hell up their ‘briefs’ aren’t going to come off on their own.”

He reached down between them and lifted her skirt. He skimmed his fingers up her inner thigh and wagged his brows. The panties she’d selected were one of his favorite pairs. There was barely anything to them. “With pleasure.”

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