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“Easy there.”
I haven’t felt my baby move since that day.
Doctors tell me it’s normal and warn me about my stress levels, but this is a worry I can’t shake.
Same as my worry about Erik.
What if he never wakes up? Is this my punishment?
He saved my life by giving me his.
The thought causes tears to pool warmly at the back of my eyes, so I close them and try to focus on happier thoughts for the sake of my baby.
It’s impossible.
A month ago, I was high on the possibilities of the future and how to further ensure that my family became great.
Now, I have the Italians vying for my blood because Rocky was nearly killed at the gala. The detective, Sarah, who burst in to arrest Viktor, is why he’s alive. She found him bleeding out in the hallway and saved his life. He’s called a few times, but I don’t take his calls.
I don’t need to hear how badly the Italians want my head.
The Cartel have gone silent. I sent them the money to cover my father’s debt and it wasn’t sent back. The last I heard, they’d crossed back over the border.
Closer to home, things are incredibly tense with Tatiana after Ivan was severely injured in the explosion. She blames me, of course. And I understand her. She trusted me with business, and instead, I nearly got the love of her life killed.
Despite his death, Viktor has still managed to destroy everything I’ve built.
Hopelessness wells in my chest, and a soft sob slips past my lips.
I’m lost.
Even when things were terrible under my father, I still looked for a way out.
Now, I’m tired.
Caressing my baby does little to soothe me, and I cry quietly into my other hand until the lock clicks on the door and it slowly opens.
I tense and reach for the handgun on the side table, only for Faina to walk through the door with a tray of tea and some sandwiches.
“Do you really need to lock that door?” she says, nudging it shut behind herself. “I have the keys, y’know.”
“You tell me that, and all I hear is that someone needs to steal those keys to get to me.”
Faina’s face falls, then her brows knit together with worry. “Anastasia? What’s wrong?” She hurries closer and sets the tray down on the table, then sits beside me. “Is it the baby?”
Shaking my head, I lower the gun back onto the table and dab at my eyes. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“I am. It’s just hormones.”
She clearly doesn’t believe me. Sighing, Faina leans toward the tray. “I made you tea. You need to eat something.”
“I’m not hungry.”
She shoots me a sharp look. “Then eat for the baby. You’ve both been through hell and need all the energy you can get.”
I want to ask her what the point is. How am I going to protect this baby when I couldn’t protect myself or the man I love?