Exes. A Father for the Little Button

“Olivia,” my mother unexpectedly calls me by my full name, “don’t worry…” She clearly intends to say something else, but doesn’t get the chance.

“Hello!” A deep male voice fills the space around.

I would never mistake this voice for any other. And when I look up, I realize I’m not mistaken.

Timur. He’s just come out of the kitchen and now stands across from me, hands in his pockets—on his stylish expensive trousers.

His shoulders have become even broader. His face—more masculine. His gaze—sharper.

We divorced when I was already expecting a child, but my husband never found out.

And now he stands opposite me and drills me with the darkness of his eyes.

I freeze, not knowing what to say.

But Timur, judging by everything, is serious. And this time, escaping him will be much harder…

Well, thanks a lot, Mom!