I take a seat on the couch, my eyes on Dr. Voss as she gets to work. I watch her ask Gabriella a few questions about what happened.
“You can be honest,” I say. “Discretion is part of her job description.”
Gabriella nods, then fills the good doctor in while Voss preps the sonogram. Voss slicks the wand, guiding Gabriella onto the couch, helping her pull her dress up enough to expose her midsection. My heart races, and it takes all I have to stay cool and calm and composed.
Heartbeats. That familiar double-whooshing of the twins. My relief is incalculable.
“All’s well, I’m happy to report,” Dr. Voss says as she cleans off the wand and slips it back into its place. “But you were right to check. Let’s keep the stress levels low as much as possible. Rest and fluids.”
“Thank you,” I say, stepping over to help her to theelevator.
“I’ll come by tomorrow morning to double-check,” she says as the doors open. “But I’m comfortable giving her a clean bill of health. Keep the chaos light with her, if you can.”
“I’ll do my best.” I help her guide the machine into the elevator, the doors shutting moments later.
“I think I want to just go to bed,” Gabriella says. She eases off the couch. “That was draining.”
I hurry to her side, placing one hand on her shoulder, the other on the small of her back. There’s an unmistakable tension in her body, but that’s to be expected after the night we just had. I have the deep urge to walk with her, to pull her into my bed and hold her until she falls asleep.
However, I get the impression that’s not what she wants. It’s solitude she craves. I watch her ascend the stairs and vanish around the corner to my room. When the door shuts, I turn to Bogdan.
“Brazen move,” he says, “even for Peter. I assume that’s who was behind this little stunt?”
I nod. “Peter or Ruth—and a move by Ruth, at this point, is a move by Peter.”
“You think they were trying to kill you?”
I shake my head on my way over to the bar. “No. An assassination would’ve taken a different shape—pincer attack with two cars, men with automatic weapons.” I prepare a vodka neat. “I would’ve gone down shooting.”
Bogdan glances away, gives the matter some thought.
“He’s getting bold.”
I sip the vodka, letting it linger on my palate for a long moment before swallowing.
“He’s sending a message. He thinks he can get to us whenever he wants.”
“Then war is on the horizon.”
“That’s the assumption I’m playing by. Here’s what I imagine: he launches a decapitation strike before the merger is official. Takes me out, you too, if he can. The Bratva will be in disarray, the council will be desperate not to jeopardize their bottom line. They’ll take whatever terms Peter offers just to avoid pain.”
“And Johan will come crawling back to Papa,” Bogdan finishes.
“That’s the long and short if it.”
“Makes me wonder why he didn’t just pull it off tonight?”
It’s a good question. The answer occurs to me: “Because he doesn’t want to simply take Gabriella and me out. He wants revenge, and revenge is only satisfying if you’re there to dish it out.”
“Then what’s the plan?”
“The plan is that we gather the lieutenants in the morning, prepare a war footing. Take one of the guest rooms here; you and I are going to strategize first thing.”
He hops off his stool. “In that case, I’ll get to bed.”
I raise my glass to Bogdan as he strides out of the room.
The first thing I realize as soon as I’m alone is that I hate being alone. It’s strange. Typically, I prefer solitude. It’swhen I can think, when I can plan. But now, for reasons I don’t quite understand, it’s intolerable.
