“Cass.”
“Don’t,Dani.”
She sets her purse down on the back of the toilet very slowly. Then she turns around, folds her arms, and looks at me. “How late are you?”
“Late enough that I can’t keep lying to myself.”
Dani presses both hands to her mouth. I can see her brain already decorating a nursery somewhere. “Oh my God,” she whispers through her interlaced fingers. “Oh my God, Cass. Ababy.”
“Dani…”
“Does Raymond know?”
And there it is. The assumption, neat and tidy, so convenient if only it were true.Of course it’s Raymond’s,I tell myself.Who else’s would it be? I’m his wife.That’s how it works in Dani’s world, where husbands and wives still share beds and toothpaste and actual human warmth.
She knows things aren’t exactly great in my marriage. But I haven’t told her just yet how bad things have gotten—or how much worse they’re going to get before the end. I have no intention of trauma-dumping the full, gory details right this second, either.
Instead, I hear myself say, “Not yet.”
She hugs me anyway. Over her shoulder, I do the math I’ve been refusing to do. Raymond hasn’t touched me since before Khaza. Not once. Not in months.
So…
Yeah.
Guess I’m pregnant with Matvei Satyrin’s baby.
11
MAT
“You’re gonna want to sit down for this one,plemyannik.”
I look up from my laptop. When I see who just spoke to me, I frown.
It’s the ass-crack of dawn on Monday morning and the last person on the planet I feel like talking to just strolled into my office without preamble or permission.
“Morning to you, too, Uncle,” I say through gritted teeth to Afon Satyrin, my father’s brother and the right-hand man to Lukas Lazarev,pakhanof the Lazarev Bratva. “To what do I owe the displeasure?”
Afon sprawls in the leather chair across from my desk. He sets a manila folder on the edge of my desk and pats it once, twice, like a man showing off a dog he’s proud of.
I don’t look at it.
“I’m working,” I tell him instead.
“Thisiswork.” He nods at the half-empty espresso cup by my elbow. “How many of those have you had this morning?”
“Not enough to deal with you, that’s for fucking sure.”
Afon smiles. It’s that slow, crooked smile he gets when he’s about to ruin someone’s week. Usually, it’s not mine on the chopping block.
Today, I’m starting to suspect otherwise.
I close the laptop halfway. “Afon. It’s barely six in the morning. My assistant isn’t even in yet. For God’s sake, you shouldn’t have even been able to get past security without an employee badge.”
“Please do not disrespect me like that.” He wrinkles his nose and waves a hand. “I’ve been getting past front desks since before you were shitting yellow into a diaper.”
“Lovely image. Thank you for that.”
