Things I would want someone to tell me, pregnant and my husband gone.
Chapter Thirty-Three
In which this is the worst homecoming ever.
Ava…
On the jet, heading home…
"Wait." I hear Roman say. "You let her think this marriage isn't permanent?"
I stop dead in the jet's galley, half-hidden behind the wall.
"I had to get this done," Dimitri sounds sharp and impatient. "I know she loves me, even if she's not prepared to see it yet. This marriage will last."
"While I recognize our parents' meeting and subsequent marriage wasn't exactly built on a foundation of trust," Roman says, "it still seems idiotic for you to be pulling this with her."
"I will ease her into it," Dmitri says. "She needs time, but she'll understand.
Dazed and pretending I didn't hear them, I walk back to the seats and Dmitri smiles at me. "Did you find the water?"
"What?" My voice sounds distant, even to myself.
He leans forward, frowning a bit. "You went up to the galley to get a bottle of water. Are you feeling all right?"
My hand almost flutters to my stomach and I hastily move it up and brush my forehead instead. "Oh. I went to the bathroom and forgot all about it. That's sad." I chuckle weakly and turn, heading back to the kitchen where a smiling Lera is already pulling out a cold bottle of water for me.
"I'm sorry," she says. "I should've come over to check on you before this."
I put the bottle against my suddenly burning forehead. "It's fine. I knew you were busy with the pilots."
Mrs. Morozova-"
Mrs. Morozova again. How does everybody I've spoken to in the last forty-eight hours know that I'm Mrs. Morozova already?
"Would you like an ice pack?" Lera asks, "Or perhaps some ibuprofen?"
"I'm fine," I smile apologetically. "Thank you."
Dmitri, Roman, and Kir are deep into discussion about what looks like gun specs they're looking at on Dmitri's laptop, so I settle into a far corner, pulling a blanket up to my chin and staring out the window. My fingers are tapping on my thigh and I can feel the extra weight on my left hand from the ring. I'd just been getting used to it and now it feels alien again.
Why did he lie to me?
My brain circles around the problem, poking at it from different directions until I finally fall asleep.
"Magpie." The voice is gentle and there's a kiss on my wrist. "We're about to land." I open my eyes to see Dmitri leaning over me. He almost looks sincere, the way his eyes are gleaming,wearing that smile that I've come to think might be reserved just for me.
While casually discussing with Roman that he'd tricked me into marriage, he'd tossed out that he thought I loved him. Not a word about feeling the same. I feel foolish and exposed. I nod, clicking my seatbelt. He sits next to me, taking my hand casually as he belts in and checks his phone.
We've left the private airfield and are heading downtown when he looks over at me, concerned. "You're very quiet. Do you feel all right?"
"I'm fine," I lie, looking out the window. "Maybe it's jet lag, I'll be better tomorrow."
We're passing a fairly deserted area that I recognize, it's close to his Newtown Creek project. Dmitri has taken me out a couple of times to show me the progress, and I was so impressed and proud of him. He used so much creativity to make this a more inclusive area, transforming stinking, rotting docks and dilapidated buildings into somewhere people would be proud to live. I loved seeing the pride on his face, too.
Tonight, there's no activity and everything is silent. Seconds later, I see the bright flare of lights behind us, not our chase SUV with more of Dmitri's guards. These headlights are much brighter and coming up on us fast and at the same time a truck races across the intersection, smashing into the chase vehicle and it spins wildly, sparks flashing in the dark. The truck behind us slides into its place, slamming viciously into the Aston Martin. I know its armor plated, but there's only so much steel can do to protect you from an impact of a Mac truck trying to push us into the crumbling side of a brick building. Demid manages to swerve the car away just in time.
"Put your head down," Dmitri says, pushing on the back of my neck. He's already got his gun out when bullets spray the back windshield and I shriek. There are heavy thuds, like a bulldozer hitting the side of the car at full speed, making the SUV rock sharply. Somebody else is shooting at us too.
