What? Of course, I’m still counting.
I release her after a while, and she sags against me, her head hidden in my neck and her legs wrapped around my waist.
We spend a few moments like that before I say, “Are you not going to tell me what’s going on?”
She shudders against me, her heartbeat picking up against my chest. “How do you know something is going on?”
“Because you’re not acting normal, and I notice everything about you.”
She pulls away, but keeps her fingers threaded at my nape. “Can you give me time?”
“How long is time? A day? Two?”
“A bit longer than that. I…need to meet my family first and—”
“No.”
“I can’t just avoid them forever. Just like you can’t lock up Anton for life.”
“Both are doable.”
“Kirill,” she says with a note of frustration. “Be reasonable.”
“I perfectly am. The last two times you went to see your fucking family, I got shot twice, and you made me believe you were dead.”
“We’ll never be at peace this way.”
“Let me worry about that.”
“This is our lives. Yours and mine. You’re not the only one who gets to worry about it. I have a say in it, too. You keep calling me your wife, but you’ll never be my husband unless you make me your partner in everything.”
“You already are.”
“Not if you don’t talk to me about the decisions you make concerning the two of us.”
“Did you talk to me when you faked your fucking death, Sasha?” My voice raises, and she goes still, her breath catching. “How would you feel if I did that, hmm?”
“I already said I’m sorry,” she murmurs, her fingers stroking my nape. “We both made mistakes, but we’re in new territory now. You have to give me time, please.”
Every cell in me revolts at the idea, but I know this is exactly what I need to do so we can have our new beginning.
“Fine, but you’re not meeting them without me.”
She rolls her eyes, but a smile paints her lips as she lays her head on my shoulder again. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me until we get this over with.”
She releases an affirmative sound. “Do we have to go back to the party?”
“Yes.”
“Ugh. But people will know that you fucked me.”
“I don’t give a fuck. In fact, it’s good they know you’re mine and off-limits.”
“Caveman.”
“Your caveman.”
“Mmm. I like that.” Her voice trails off, sounding sleepy. “Give me ten.”
I’m stroking her hair as she falls back against my chest when my phone vibrates.
The name on the screen makes me pause.
Boss. This is Makar. I’m sorry for disappearing, but I have to tell you that you’re in danger. Can we meet?
22
SASHA
“What are we doing here?” My gaze follows the patterns of the carpet in the waiting area of the in-house clinic.
Kirill brought me here first thing this morning after he kicked out Yulia. He told me about her posing a danger to Kristina’s pregnancy and that even Konstantin agreed to this.
It was so much drama. She refused to leave, and when Kirill ordered Viktor to remove her by force, she went ballistic. Since she couldn’t possibly hurt Kirill, she turned her malicious energy to Karina and tried to slap her.
Before anyone could stop her, I stood in front of a trembling Karina and pushed the woman away.
She’s now packing her things after Konstantin talked her out of whatever toxic plans she had.
I’m still uncomfortable with the exchange that took place this morning. I can almost see her venomous eyes glaring me down as if she wants me dead.
Today, I’d planned to spend time reading pregnancy books with Kristina—only from an e-reader, though, since I can’t be so obvious.
The most pressing question is—how long can I fool Kirill? Even though we’ve been fucking all the time, I try not to get completely naked. I’m scared he’ll notice how slightly bigger my breasts are or the bump in my stomach. It’s actually not as noticeable as Kristina’s and can be chalked up to gaining weight, but it’ll probably grow bigger.
And while I try to distract him so he doesn’t focus on my body for too long, that can’t last forever.
Kirill isn’t an idiot. He already senses that something is wrong. If I don’t tell him, he’ll eventually figure it out himself.
A part of me wants to say it. I even stopped myself from blurting it all out last night.
But the other part realizes that if I take this step, there’s no going back.
I’ll just be trapped in Kirill’s web with no way out and I’m not sure that’s where I want to be.
Especially since I’ve been trying to contact my uncle and haven’t been able to get through. The situation is muddied at best, and I’m at a crossroads where nothing makes sense.
Nothing but the baby.
I’ve been surprisingly elated since I found out about him. He’s the only thing I want with everything in me. The rest is blurry.
Okay, that’s a lie. I want Kirill, too. I want him to the point of madness, and I don’t only mean physically. I want his heart. I want to be so far inside him, he won’t be able to replace me.
But the wound is so raw; I don’t think I can ever throw caution to the wind this time.
Even when I was secretly happy when he introduced me to everyone as his wife.
And I don’t only mean his family, members of his staff, and the leaders of the brotherhood, but also his entire social circle.
He took me around the room with his hand on my lower back, saying, “Have you met my beautiful wife? She’s Russian.”
Yes, all the small talk was tiresome and I’m pretty sure he did it so everyone would know that I’m his and, therefore, off-limits, but I enjoyed every second of it.
Probably because I never dreamed that I’d be on his arm as a woman.
No, not on his arm.
His wife.
The only wife he’ll ever have.
“Kirill?” I step in front of him, so he stops walking.
He’s been ignoring my questions since we left the house. His expression is closed off, his eyes are more intense than those of an arctic wolf, and his jaw is set.
I touch the lapel of his jacket, taking in the hint of tattoos peeking through the top open buttons of his shirt.
Although I woke up with his cock sliding inside me, and he fucked me senseless just this morning, I can’t seem to get enough of him.
My sex drive matches his—if not more. I could blame the hormones, but then again, there has never been a day when I didn’t want Kirill Morozov.
Even during the time I planned to kill him.
“What’s going on?” I ask in a careful tone.
I hate it when he deliberately closes himself off from me.
“You’ll find out soon enough.” He takes my hand in his and basically drags me into one of the rooms.
The nurse and doctor are waiting while carrying a tray with some equipment on it.
“You can get started,” he tells them and applies pressure on my shoulder so that I sit down on the bed.