Evette might have been a foot shorter than Kir, but her playful sass was giant-sized, and everyone loved her for it. “Shut your mouth, Kir Vasilek. It’s bad enough all the ideas he gets from you and your guys. He doesn’t need a thirteen-year head start planning all the trouble he’ll get into when he’s legal.”

Kir pressed his hand to his overly stuffed stomach and gave her a mock bow. “Of course, madám.”

She snorted and waved him off. “God save me from all the testosterone.”

Sergei chuckled and pulled her tight against him. “Say the word, liubimaja, and we’ll start working on evening out the scales with a baby girl.”

To that, Evette merely rolled her eyes, but also grinned in a way that said she didn’t mind practicing for such an outcome in the least.

“Give me forty-five minutes to drop them off and I’ll circle back,” Sergei said to Kir and Roman.

Kir eased back into his seat, the fit of his suit pants more uncomfortable than he cared to admit. “Take your time. I need vodka and a rest before more celebration can begin.”

“Spoken like an old man,” Roman said, taking a sip of his own Stoli. “You sure you don’t want to call it a night now so you can get a good night’s sleep?”

Evette giggled and snuggled in closer to Sergei, her head resting naturally against his chest. “Poor Kir. And you’ve got a whole night full of those verbal slingshots to endure.”

Sergei shook his head, but the fond smile on his face as he turned his wife toward the exit said he loved his woman’s shenanigans.

Craning herself around long enough for a wave, Evette called out. “You two have fun and be safe.”

“Happy birthday, Uncle Kir!” Emerson added just as loudly.

And then they were gone, the happily-ever-after threesome disappearing into the sultry shadows of the bar’s main building.

“She’s good for him,” Roman murmured. “Grounds him.”

It wasn’t surprising his old friend had zeroed in on Kir’s thoughts. The two of them had been banging around the more dangerous neighborhoods of St. Petersburg for as long as Kir could remember. Roman had been one of the few people he’d known to stand by him despite his father’s betrayal.

“Sergei has always been grounded.” Kir stared at the now closed door a moment longer, then turned back to his empty plate. He anchored one ankle over the top of his knee and grabbed his Stoli. “Though, I admit her presence has been a good one.”

“Hmmff.” Roman matched Kir’s drink with one of his own. “A hard thing for you to admit by the sound of it.”

Not so much now, but at first he’d been heavily resistant to the idea of Sergei getting close to anyone. At least until he got to know Evette.

Kir set his tumbler on the table in front of him and ran his finger through the sweat that had formed along the side. “She’s not like most.”