“It’s not your child.”
She realizes what she said immediately. Her hand flies to her mouth, and the color drains from her face.
“What did you just say?” My voice is deadly quiet.
“I didn’t mean—I was just?—”
“Not my child.” I’m in front of her now, close enough to see the panic in her eyes. “Six weeks pregnant. Six weeks ago was the night in Vegas. Our wedding night. When we made love for the first time. Are you going to tell me you’ve been sleeping with someone else since then?”
“No. God, no. Ledger?—”
“Then it’s mine.”
She’s crying harder now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I was just panicking.”
“Well, stop panicking and start packing.”
“What?”
“You’re coming home with me. To the penthouse. Where you should’ve been this entire week instead of pretending you need your independence.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yes, you are.”
“You can’t just order me around like?—”
“I can when you’re carrying my child and there are people who want to kill you.”
That stops her. “What?”
I take a breath. This isn’t how I wanted to tell her. But she needs to understand exactly what she’s gotten herself into by marrying me.
“Five years ago,” I say slowly, “a man named Viktor Kozlov kidnapped Alexi. Held him for three days. Tortured him. Sent me pictures of what he was doing to him.”
Her hand covers her mouth.
“When I found Alexi, I killed Viktor. But I didn’t just kill him. I burned his body. Reduced it to ash so his family had nothing to bury. No closure. No grave to visit.”
She gasps. “Jesus Christ. Ledger?—”
“Viktor’s brother, Dmitri, swore an oath that day that I would feel the same pain I caused his family. That he would take everything from me the way I took Viktor from them.”
I move closer, and this time she doesn’t back away.
“You’re my wife now. And you’re carrying my child, which makes you the perfect target. Dmitri has been waiting for years to find something that matters to me. Someone he can use to destroy me.”
She pulls back from my touch, her eyes wide. “You killed someone.”
“Yes.”
“And burned his body.” Her voice is rising now, panic bleeding through. “You burned someone alive?”
“No, not alive. The dead body.”
“What difference does it make, Ledger?”
“Significant—”
