“Can we sit down? I have something to tell you.”
His expression immediately shifts to concern. “What’s wrong? Is your shoulder worse?”
“No, nothing like that. My shoulder is fine.”
I gesture to the sitting area by the windows, where afternoon light streams through expensive curtains. We settle onto the sofa, and I try to find words for news that will change both our lives forever.
“The nausea I’ve been having, the food aversions…Dr. Patterson ran some tests.”
“And?”
“I’m pregnant, Alaric.”
The words hang in the air between us like a detonated bomb. His face goes completely blank, processing information that doesn’t compute with any plan he’s made.
“Pregnant,” he repeats slowly.
“About five weeks, based on the timing. From that night in…” I trail off, but he finishes the sentence for me.
“Miami. You’re sure?”
“Blood test will confirm tomorrow, but yes. I’m sure.”
He stands abruptly and walks to the window, hands clasped behind his back. For long minutes, he doesn’t speak.
“Alaric? Say something.”
When he turns back to face me, his expression is unreadable. “Are you happy about this?”
The question catches me off guard. “I don’t know. Terrified, mostly. Our world isn’t exactly safe for children.”
“No. It’s not.”
“Are you…upset?” I ask him.
“I don’t know what I am.” He runs a hand through his hair, disrupting the perfect styling. “A baby. Jesus.”
“We don’t have to decide anything right now. We have time to figure out how to handle this.”
“Do we? Boris Petrov is still out there planning retaliation. Marco’s reporting strange sightings that may or may not be real. Our enemies will see a child as the ultimate weakness to exploit.”
Every fear I’ve been trying not to think about, laid out in brutal honesty.
“So what are you saying?”
His voice is firm. “I’m saying that bringing a child into this world might be the most selfish thing we could do.”
The words sting, but I understand the logic behind them. Children of crime bosses don’t get normal childhoods. They get kidnapping attempts, death threats, and the constant weight of their father’s sins.
“But?” I prompt, hearing the unspoken word in his tone.
“But I already love this baby more than I thought possible.” He crosses back to the sofa and sits beside me, taking my hands in his. “Our child, Kasimira. Made from what we found together.”
“Even knowing the dangers?”
“Especially knowing the dangers. Which means we need to be smarter, more careful, more ruthless about eliminating threats before they reach our family.”
Our family. The phrase makes my chest tight with emotion I wasn’t expecting.
