I toss a bath bomb into the water and watch as it turns pink with bubbles and the air fills with the scent of roses and berries. Lovely. Just lovely.
After that, I undress and slip in. The water is warm enough to melt my muscles, but not so warm that it’s not safe for the little man. I relax for a while, still sipping on my caramel coffee in peace. Then I lather my hair with expensive shampoo and apply a deep conditioning mask.
After my bath, I put the belly butter lotion pretty much everywhere, because it smells like almonds and I love it. Plus, it makes my skin baby-soft.
Then I slip into a pair of the leggings which truly do fit my preggo body the right way, both accommodating and flattering. There were also some maternity bras in there—no underwire! Hallelujah!—and I tug one of those bad boys on, nearly bursting into tears at the lack of pain I feel. Because fuck normal bras when your tits are doubling in size.
I finish it off with a hoodie that also covers my belly and is made of the world’s softest cotton before heading back into the living room to eat the rest of my fruit cup.
Just as I pop a strawberry into my mouth, there is a knock at the door. I’m not sure who that could be, but honestly, I am in so much bliss, I don’t really care.
I pull the door open with one hand, the other hand still holding the cup of fruit, the fork hanging out of my mouth.
When I see who is standing there, my mouth pops open and the fork falls out, hitting the floor with a clank.
“Hi,” the woman says with a tight smile. Her eyes lock on my face before trailing down my body, stopping at my belly and staying there.
The smile fades a little.
“… Jenica?”
I reach for the fork on the floor as my mouth hangs open. I’m not gonna lie: bending over while a bazillion months pregnant is not as easy as they make it look in the movies.
Jenica is gracious enough not to laugh at me. “You remember me,” she says instead.
“Of course I do.”How could I forget the woman Ransome was supposed to marry?“Would you… like to come in?” I ask, though it feels weird. This isn’t really my house.
“Sure,” she says as she steps inside, her eyes flashing to my belly as she passes.
I close the door and toss my cup in the trash, my appetite suddenly gone.
“I’m surprised you remember me,” she says, looking around uncomfortably with her hands clasped together. It’s like she knows she doesn’t belong here. Like she’s afraid of even the air in the room touching her.
“Really?” I ask with a smile. “I don’t think I could ever forget Jenica Chadovich.”
With that, her eyes dart over to mine and she holds up her left hand in a spirit fingers motion. “Oh. It’s Jenica Rozanov now.”
18
AMARA
My ears are full of white noise.
I can barely make out what Jenica is saying, mouth moving soundlessly around words. “…id Ransome not mention it? Before he brought you back to New York?”
Her voice is feathery. Light and airy like an angel’s. Or someone who’s had years of practice making herself sound meeker than she is. Bratva practice.
I look at her.
And she’s smiling. Still fucking smiling. “Oh my God. He didn’t tell you.”
I feel like my lungs just got popped like two cheap balloons. “No,” I whisper. “He didn’t.”
I make my way into the living room on her trail. She’s running her hands over all his things, leaving her scent like she owns the fucking place. Like she ownshim.
Before I pass out, I sit down on the couch.”
“This place is so precious,” she coos. “Seriously. It’s like a mini version of our estate.”
