Page 16

I need to have some privacy, even though I’d rather not go through an exam, but I just smile at Demyan, regardless of how it hurts my lip and bruises to do so.

“No,” he says.

“Yes, Demyan. Go and see Ilya.” I try to keep my tone soft. “Please.”

“And I’d like to examine her,” the doctor says.

He’s about to protest when his gaze swivels to me. His lips thin. But he nods. “I’ll check on Ilya’s progress.”

I won that battle, but I get the feeling Demyan rarely backs down. But then again, I’ve never seen him so… unsure, so naked as he is now.

He’s shaken off attempts to check him and his hands over already and I just watch him go, glad because this will go faster without him here, and I’m determined to go home to be with my son as soon as I possibly can.

And I need that privacy.

As soon as he’s gone, the doctor examines me, tutting over my throat and my lip. He takes my blood pressure and temperature and asks if I need a rape kit. I tell him no. They hurt me, but no one did anything like that to me.

“Thank goodness,” he says, pressing the button to summon a nurse.

She comes in and he orders some pills and blood tests from her.

I get the feeling his relief is more for the fact Demyan won’t take out his anger on him if someone had touched me that way.

Oh, it’s for me, too. But mainly for Demyan.

I get it, but I think Demyan would hurt for me, blame himself, not do anything else here.

I answer all the doctor’s questions, and the nurse takes blood and leaves some pills.

“You and the baby are fine,” the doctor says. “The pills are for your throat, just over-the-counter painkillers, not harmful to the baby. But I need you to take it easy for a few days.”

“Can I go?”

“When Mr. Yegorov returns, yes. I do want you to make arrangements to see an OB-GYN.”

“Thank you,” I say. “I’ll do that this week.”

“Do what this week?”

Demyan makes me jump. The man can be silent when he wants, and my heart skips when I see him. His handsome face, the worry there, the softness when he looks my way.

The doctor makes himself busy and I just take Demyan’s hand as he holds it out to me.

“Take it easy.”

Demyan frowns. “You’ll do nothing all week. For the next month. Maybe I won’t let your feet touch the ground.”

That elicits a small giggle from me. “That’s going to make bathroom time difficult.”

He comes close, leans in, and kisses me. “Impossible woman.” Then he straightens. “Ilya is out of surgery. And in recovery.”

I release a breath. “When can we see him?”

“You’re in the hospital, you’re going nowhere, and he’s critical, so he’s in the ICU. But he’s strong, stubborn, and hanging in. I have faith.”

I squeeze his hand. “He’ll be okay. I know it.”

“Fuck, Erin. I’m sorry, I’m?—”