My heart pounds against my ribs. The possibility that's been lurking in the back of my mind since this morning crystallizes into something I can't ignore.
She could be pregnant.
The thought sends electricity through my entire body, part terror, part something that feels dangerously close to hope. A child. My child. Growing inside her.
I wait for her to tell me. To confirm what my instincts are screaming. But instead, she opens her eyes and says, "I think I have the flu."
The disappointment that crashes over me is so intense, it's almost physical. Which is insane. I should be relieved. A pregnancy would complicate everything, would make her evenmore of a target, and would tie us together in ways that go beyond whatever this thing between us is.
But I'm not relieved. I'm disappointed.
"The flu," I repeat, keeping my voice neutral.
"Yeah." She takes the washcloth from me, pressing it to her cheeks. "There's something going around, probably. I'll be fine in a few days."
"Right." I stand, offering her my hand. She takes it, and I pull her to her feet. She sways slightly, and my arm goes around her waist automatically. "You should rest."
"I'm fine." But she doesn't pull away from my touch. "Really."
I guide her back to the bed, and she sits on the edge, looking small and vulnerable. I should leave, should give her space to rest. Instead, I sit beside her.
"I need to tell you something," I say. "About next week."
She turns to look at me, and this close, I can see the flecks of lighter blue in her dark eyes and smell the faint scent of her shampoo.
"What about next week?" she asks.
"I'm hosting a party. A welcome home celebration." I watch her face carefully. "Everyone will be there. Captains, soldiers, their families. It's mandatory attendance."
Her eyebrows rise. "A party. You're throwing yourself a party?"
"It's strategic." I explain the plan, watching understanding dawn in her eyes. "I need to see who's nervous. Who's hiding something. A social setting will make people careless."
"That's actually smart." She tilts her head, studying me. "Devious, but smart."
"I need your help." The words come out before I fully think them through. "With organizing it. Planning the details, managing the social aspects."
Surprise flashes across her face, followed by something that looks like happiness. Real happiness, the first I've seen since we left Montana. "You want me to help plan your party?"
"Our party," I correct. "You're my fiancée, remember? It would be expected."
The happiness dims slightly at the reminder of our arrangement, but it doesn't disappear entirely. "What would I need to do?"
"Work with the event planner. Choose the menu, the decorations, and the music. Make sure everything looks perfect."
I stand, needing distance before I do something stupid like pull her into my arms. "Think about it. Let me know tomorrow."
I'm almost to the door when she speaks. "Aleksandr?"
I turn back. She's still sitting on the bed, her blonde hair mussed, her sweater slightly askew, and she's so beautiful it makes my chest tighten.
"Thank you," she says quietly. "For checking on me."
"You're welcome." I reach for the door handle. "Rest. I'll have the staff bring you some ginger ale and crackers later. Those might stay down better."
I'm about to open the door when a sharp knock sounds from the other side just before the door opens and Danil appears.
"Boss," he says, his voice low and urgent. "We have a development."
