Page 46 of Claimed By the Boss

Becca stands and grabs her phone. “We’re calling your doctor.”

“No!”

“Lyra.”

I sigh and slump back in my chair. “You’re bossy, you know that?”

“I’m a great friend,” she argues, sticking her tongue out at me. “There’s a difference.”

I roll my eyes but take the phone she offers and call my doctor’s office. There’s a cancellation for later that morning. Becca insists on coming with me, and I’m too tired to argue. The subway ride over is mostly quiet except for her playlist humming through her headphones. I keep thinking about Damien, wondering how he would react to this news. We’re not even officially dating. Would he think I’m trying to trap him into something?

Nope. I’m not going there.

We get to the clinic, and the waiting room smells like antiseptic and baby powder. A mother is in the corner with a toddler on her lap, reading a board book about colors. I sit beside Becca, my hands twisted in my coat, my stomach still doing cartwheels.

“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” I whisper.

“Good thing we’re at a doctor’s office, then,” she whispers back.

I swat her arm, but it makes me smile for a second. Then the nerves return, heavy and sharp.

The nurse finally steps into the room. “Lyra Taylor?”

I jump at the sudden calling of my name, unable to process it. Becca nudges me. “Go. You’ve got this.”

I follow the nurse down the hallway, answering questions like a robot, too dazed to process much. She hands me a cup and points toward the restroom. I lock the door behind me and stare at myself in the mirror for a moment before doing what I need to do.

When I return, I sit on the exam table and wait. And wait. Each minute stretches until I’m sure I’m going to scream.

When the doctor comes in, she’s holding a chart and smiling gently.

“Lyra,” she says. “It’s good to see you again.”

I nod, my throat tight, wishing she’d just get to it. I answer a few more questions on autopilot until she finally does.

“We ran the standard test and confirmed the result.”

I feel my pulse in my throat.

She meets my eyes. “You’re pregnant.”

14

DAMIEN

“Rurik’s leaving New York in two days,” Alek says, handing me a phone loaded with shots of him. “He’s flying private to Boston to meet some of his family from Russia. They’re coming in through a back channel via Miami, then switching to domestic, so there won’t be a customs trail.”

“Are they on our watch list?” I ask, glancing at it.

“Mostly. There’s a new face we haven’t seen before. He’s probably just muscle or an intermediary, but he’s worth watching just in case.”

I lean back in my chair and rub my thumb along my jaw. “So Rurik thinks he’s untouchable again, that he can start laying groundwork with his family overseas.”

Alek nods. “It’s the first time they’ve tried a face-to-face meeting stateside since your father was alive.”

“Then it’s the perfect time to remind them why they stopped.”

I tap the photo twice, weighing the angles. A crowded street outside a club, bodies packed tight, Rurik halfway through theframe with that same smug look on his face. He’s always so sure he’s outsmarted everyone.