It’s actually not that bad. Citrusy. Cold. Sharp.
I place the glass down and round the corner of the island, stopping right in front of him.
He grins, wipes a drop of juice from my lip with his thumb… then brings his finger to his mouth and licks it slowly, like he’s reminding me he’s still Drago. Still lethal. Still sin wrapped in devotion.
“I just had a call from Finn,” he says.
My pulse flickers.
“They’re going to try to get Lev off some of the machines today. See if he’ll wake up.”
My stomach drops so fast it feels like the floor tilts beneath me. I look down, staring at the tiles like they’ll hold me together, because living in limbo is its own kind of torture. Not knowing if I’m going to wake up one morning and be told he’s really gone.
Drago steps closer and tips my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “We have to think positive, baby,” he murmurs. “Fight for him. Only good thoughts go into the universe, remember?”
I half laugh, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. “The universe has trouble deciding if it likes us.”
His huge hand splays over my stomach, warm and possessive and gentle all at once. “I think it’s coming round,” he whispers.
My throat tightens.
I lean forward and rest my head against his chest, breathing him in, and he wraps his arms around me like he’s building a shield. “I want to tell him,” I whisper. “That he’s going to be a grandad.”
My voice breaks, the words catching like I’m scared to say them out loud in case the universe hears and decides to take this too.
“I want to say thank you for saving me.”
A tear slips down my cheek. It feels like that’s all I’ve done lately, bleed emotions I didn’t know I had. But the panic doesn’t rise. Because I can’t crumble. Not now. Our baby deserves strength. And I know I can do it.
I’m safe.
I’m loved.
But God… I just wish my dad would wake up.
I have every right to be sad about this.
Drago’s mouth presses to my hair. “Then we go to the hospital,” he says quietly. “And we wait for him to wake up so you can tell him.”
He wipes my tear away as if it offends him that anything has ever hurt me.
“I’d like that,” I whisper.
He nods once, decisive. “Then I’ll tell Finn to text us when we’re allowed in. Okay?”
I nod again, swallowing hard.
He studies my face, his gaze softening. “Did you want to tell anyone else about the baby?” he asks. “Or shall we wait until we have the scan?”
His mouth tugs at the side, like he’s holding back a secret.
My eyes narrow instantly.
“Drago Korolyov,” I warn. “What have you done?”
He chuckles, both hands framing my face.
“Finn knows,” he admits.
