“Right,” I nod, pretending like I’m not sad that he’s leaving. “So… you don’t know when you’re coming back?”
“No. But you can always reach me. Never hesitate to text. From the burner.”
“Why that phone?” I ask.
“Because it’s secure,” he states. “Amara, some things might have changed since you came back. But a lot of things are very much the same. Even more so, really. And you’re going to have to get used to it.”
With that, he leaves me in a giant house all alone.
Get used to it?I was used to it. I was living in the trenches of it. And I wasn’t dumb enough to think that things would magically be different, at least not as far as his job goes. But as I sit on his couch, running my fingers over the movement in my belly, I can’t help but feel sad.
Once again, I am with Ransome Rozanov, but not really with him. Once again, I am surrounded by things that look like him, smell like him, feel like him. But not him.
That’s because Ransome Rozanov is a Bratvapakhan.The most important position in his world. And I’m just the womancarrying his son. A son that he probably already has in mind to make the next Bratvapakhan.Whether I like it or not.
But just like every other detail of my life gone wrong, there isn’t really anything I can do about it.
15
RANSOME
I’m not going to lie.
Walking out of my estate, my actual home, and leaving Amara sitting on the couch with a pouty lip nearly killed me. Not only because I feel like shit for giving her false expectations about the way things are going to look, but also because that aforementioned pouty lip drives me crazy. It took everything in me not to rip her clothes off and explore her baby-carrying body with my fingers and mouth and everything else.
But I couldn’t.
As luck would have it, Jenica was blowing up my phone. She knows I am back from my trip and anxious for me to get home to her. But not for the reasons a wife would usually be anxious to see their husband, obviously. She wants to drill me.
And drill me she does. The moment I walk in the door, she goes full-blown Chadovich.
“Gde ty byl?” she snaps.Where have you been?
“Taking care of business, “ I answer, hanging up my jacket.
“Business that’s more important than coming home to your wife?” she asks.
“Considering we aren’t married by choice, I think it’s safe to say any business is more important than that,” I say robotically, moving to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of whiskey.
“Ty mudak,” she sneers.You’re an asshole.
“In English, please,” I say as I take a sip and let the whiskey coat my nerves, which feel more like livewires right now. “I don’t have the energy to fight with you in more than one language right now.”
“Do you know how it looks being married to you?” she asks.
“Considering my status, I’d say pretty damn good.”
I try to make my way to my office but she steps in front of me.
“I look like a joke, Ransome. You leave town without any explanation other than ‘it’s for work.’ Which is bullshit, because you’ve literally never gone to Montana for anything in your life, work-related or not.”
“It was work-related,” I say, only half-lying.
“Yeah? How so?”
I step to the side. “It was business.”
“What kind of business?” she asks, stepping in front of me again.
