I don’t answer. I don’t need to. The room feels smaller, the air heavier. She’s in my room, splayed across my body, but we don’t have those kinds of conversations. That kind of intimacy doesn’t exist between us. I’m trying to ignore the ache in my chest and the way Iwantthat with her. I want to know these small, intimate parts of her life.
Michael stands and steps closer, lowering his voice even though she is asleep. “I’m not diagnosing. I’m observing. Exhaustion. Heat. Nausea. Emotional volatility.” His eyes flick to mine. “And the timing is…possible. I was told that she’s been here for a few months.”
My jaw tightens. Has he been asking questions? And who in my household is giving up these answers so readily?
“She has. We had an agreement. She’s a target, and there are… conditions to her staying here. Rules.”
The words come out more defensively than I want them to.
Michael stares me down with a frank, clinical expression. “We’ve known each other long enough that I’m aware you don’t often live by rules, Mr. Baranov. Not many mob leaders get involved in the day-to-day dirty work. Is it possible that some rules were broken when Miss Demsky came to live here?”
Cold slides through me first, clean and precise. The same sensation I feel just before a kill, when logic sets in.
Then heat follows, violent and disorienting, rushing through my blood until my pulse thunders in my ears.
“You think she’s…”
Pregnant.
Michael inclines his head, just enough to tell me all I need to know. The word does not belong here. It does not fit in my life, in my plans, in the careful violence and control I’ve built. And yet Aly sleeps on my chest as if I’ve already given it up for her, already burned it to the ground.
Have I?
“If you are wrong,” I say quietly, “you will never mention this again.”
Michael nods. “Of course.”
“And if you are right?”
His mouth tightens. “That’s up to you, but she’ll need care.”
Liev’s face flashes in my mind, the way his jaw clenches when he is angry, the way his hands curl when he is deciding whether to forgive or kill.
He will not forgive this. Not me. Not this. He will see it as a theft; a betrayal layered on top of a thousand others. And he will come for me with nothing held back.
I look down at Aly, at the soft curve of her cheek pressed against my skin, at the faint line between her brows that appears even in sleep. The thought that she could be carrying something fragile and irrevocable because of me is terrifying in a way no gun has ever been.
Michael straightens. “I recommend discretion. Observation. And rest. If you’re brave enough, suggest a test. I can get one and leave it here for you, if she’s willing.”
I almost laugh. But the thought of discussing this with Alyona, bringing up the possibility and finding out if it’s real…
Aly exhales, slow and warm, and I make a decision without speaking it aloud. Whatever this becomes, whatever it costs, I will not let it be taken from me. Not by Hinto, not by fate, and not even by Liev.
Thisis not something I am willing to let go.
Chapter 27
Alyona
Iwake with one hand across the bed, palm-down on cold sheets; the realization startles my eyes open.
For a second I don’t understand what’s wrong, only that something is missing. The room is too quiet, too big, and too empty. Gray morning light seeps through the curtains. The clock on the nightstand reads 6:02 a.m.
He shouldn’t be up.
He’s supposed to be resting. Michael had been so strict about it. Bed rest, fluids, limited movement. Kazimir Baranov won’t do any of those things willingly, but still. He was exhausted last night after a light physical therapy appointment in the living room. Half-conscious, heavy and warm beside me.
Almost clinging to me.
