The patio doors slide open with a quiet whisper of glass.
Igor steps inside. Sharp suit, not a single crease out of place, blonde hair slicked back to perfection.
“You want to see me?” His Russian accent curls around the words.
“Yeah.” I push off the counter, folding my arms across my chest. “Listen…”
His expression doesn’t change, but I can feel his attention sharpen.
“I want to drive us,” I continue. “Take Black Betty. You and the rest of the team follow. Keep eyes on us, keep it tight, but…not on top of us.” I exhale, scrubbing a hand over the back of my neck. “This is a big deal. First appointment. First scan. I just—” I shake my head slightly, searching for the right way to say it. “I want her to feel like a normal expectant mom, you know? Not some circus attraction—”
Not hunted. Not watched.
I meet his gaze. “I just want to give her that…if you don’t mind?”
Silence stretches for a beat.
Igor studies me, eyes steady, unreadable.
“Is risky,” he says finally. “You travelling alone.”
“We won’t be alone,” I counter immediately. “You’ll be there. Just…not breathing down our necks. Keep back a little.”
I step closer, lowering my voice.
“Just let us have the illusion of space.”
“For her.”
Igor nods once. “If you can accept risk, then I will arrange it.”
Relief hits sharper than I expect, loosening something tight in my chest.
“I do,” I say without hesitation.
His gaze lingers on me a second longer, like he’s weighing the words, measuring whether I actually understand what I’m asking for. Then he gives another short nod.
Actually, I think he was just taking in what a fucking idiot I am to give those churchy motherfuckers an opening.
Well…at least me making shit decisions is pretty normal.
“I will have vehicle ahead, and behind.” His tone is clipped. “You will not deviate from route without informing me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I mutter.
He pauses at the door, glancing back over his shoulder. “For girl,” he adds, quieter this time.
I nod.
He mutters something, shaking his head.
When he leaves, the air feels lighter, my life had just flashed in front of my eyes for a moment there.
I glance at the target destination, aka the fridge.
“Alright,” I mutter to myself. “Husband duties. Fruit platter.”
I open the fridge.
