Page 122 of Beautiful Secrets

“I am not feeling well,” I say.

“Do you need another bag?” she asks, her frown only hardening. “We can’t turn around the whole flight just because—”

“I need a doctor,” I yell at her, and then put a hand on my belly. “I am pregnant, do you understand? I am pregnant, and I am sick. Get me off this flight!”

I cannot believe how distraught I sound. I have never been this dramatic in my life. But I have a feeling these theatrics are the only thing standing between me and true happiness.

The air hostess hesitates, but then a woman further back calls out, “Get her to a doctor! We haven’t even pushed out yet.”

The hostess whips her head around and glares at the woman who called out in my defense. From the look on her face, she’s about ready to handcuff me to the airplane seat, but then another hostess—younger, prettier—comes up to her and whispers something in her ear.

The two hurry down the aisle toward the cockpit, the brass-haired hostess obviously reluctant as she follows the younger one. A third hostess heads for my seat, and I get ready to fight her if she tries to make me sit again.

I have no idea if my pregnancy has anything to do with the emotions raging through my body right now, but if it does then I’m not sure how I will handle the next eight months.

Mika Vasiliev is the furthest thing from violent, but I can practically feel my nails and teeth growing at just the thought that someone is going to stop me from getting off this plane so I can be with Cole.

All I need to do is find his hotel, right? And if they won’t tell me where he is, then I need to get back to the night club where Sarah and her husband worked—Asylum.

None of that should be too difficult. Might take me a while, since it is already dark outside and all I have to my name is—

No. Wait.

Cole gave me his credit card!

When I throw the approaching hostess a victorious smile, she stops walking. I must look like a crazy person, because she just stands there watching me until the other two hostesses come back.

Which is about when I realize that the plane has come to a halt.

A calm voice flows out of the PA system.

“This is your captain speaking. It would appear we have a hysterical woman aboard. Please be patient while we resolve the situation.”

Well, that was downright unprofessional.

I glare at the hostess standing nearby, and she looks away as if she wishes she had taken a different job.

“This is a first,” Erik says. “I’ve never seen a plane turn around for a passenger.”

“We don’t,” the redhead says, still wearing a stormy look as she gestures for me to step into the aisle. “But she’s lucky—we haven’t taxied onto the runway yet.”

I do my best to keep back a shaky smile as I’m led down the aisle. Behind me, the three hostesses are murmuring about having to perform a luggage check, and I hear a series of groans as I pass the other passengers.

Do I feel bad about making them wait? Yes. Would I have done anything different if I’d known?

No.

I might not be going back to Russia, but I feel, deep down in my heart, that I’m going back home.

Not to the Vasiliev estate…but to wherever Cole is.

I can only hope he feels the same.

44

Mika

Asylum is noisy and crowded and the air is clogged with a hundred different perfumes and colognes. I have already reconsidered my decision a thousand times in the past few hours, but even now as I weave my way through the people, I wonder if I made a mistake.