Page 33

SASHA

“W hat are we doing here?” My gaze follows the patterns of the carpet in the waiting area of the in-house clinic.

Kirill brought me here first thing this morning after he kicked out Yulia. He told me about her posing a danger to Kristina’s pregnancy and that even Konstantin agreed to this.

It was so much drama. She refused to leave, and when Kirill ordered Viktor to remove her by force, she went ballistic. Since she couldn’t possibly hurt Kirill, she turned her malicious energy to Karina and tried to slap her.

Before anyone could stop her, I stood in front of a trembling Karina and pushed the woman away.

She’s now packing her things after Konstantin talked her out of whatever toxic plans she had.

I’m still uncomfortable with the exchange that took place this morning. I can almost see her venomous eyes glaring me down as if she wants me dead.

Today, I’d planned to spend time reading pregnancy books with Kristina—only from an e-reader, though, since I can’t be so obvious.

The most pressing question is—how long can I fool Kirill?

Even though we’ve been fucking all the time, I try not to get completely naked.

I’m scared he’ll notice how slightly bigger my breasts are or the bump in my stomach.

It’s actually not as noticeable as Kristina’s and can be chalked up to gaining weight, but it’ll probably grow bigger.

And while I try to distract him so he doesn’t focus on my body for too long, that can’t last forever.

Kirill isn’t an idiot. He already senses that something is wrong. If I don’t tell him, he’ll eventually figure it out himself.

A part of me wants to say it. I even stopped myself from blurting it all out last night.

But the other part realizes that if I take this step, there’s no going back.

I’ll just be trapped in Kirill’s web with no way out and I’m not sure that’s where I want to be.

Especially since I’ve been trying to contact my uncle and haven’t been able to get through. The situation is muddied at best, and I’m at a crossroads where nothing makes sense.

Nothing but the baby.

I’ve been surprisingly elated since I found out about him. He’s the only thing I want with everything in me. The rest is blurry.

Okay, that’s a lie. I want Kirill, too. I want him to the point of madness, and I don’t only mean physically. I want his heart. I want to be so far inside him, he won’t be able to replace me.

But the wound is so raw; I don’t think I can ever throw caution to the wind this time.

Even when I was secretly happy when he introduced me to everyone as his wife.

And I don’t only mean his family, members of his staff, and the leaders of the brotherhood, but also his entire social circle.

He took me around the room with his hand on my lower back, saying, “Have you met my beautiful wife? She’s Russian.”

Yes, all the small talk was tiresome and I’m pretty sure he did it so everyone would know that I’m his and, therefore, off-limits, but I enjoyed every second of it.

Probably because I never dreamed that I’d be on his arm as a woman.

No, not on his arm.

His wife.

The only wife he’ll ever have.

“Kirill?” I step in front of him, so he stops walking.

He’s been ignoring my questions since we left the house. His expression is closed off, his eyes are more intense than those of an arctic wolf, and his jaw is set.

I touch the lapel of his jacket, taking in the hint of tattoos peeking through the top open buttons of his shirt.

Although I woke up with his cock sliding inside me, and he fucked me senseless just this morning, I can’t seem to get enough of him.

My sex drive matches his—if not more. I could blame the hormones, but then again, there has never been a day when I didn’t want Kirill Morozov.

Even during the time I planned to kill him.

“What’s going on?” I ask in a careful tone.

I hate it when he deliberately closes himself off from me.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He takes my hand in his and basically drags me into one of the rooms.

The nurse and doctor are waiting while carrying a tray with some equipment on it.

“You can get started,” he tells them and applies pressure on my shoulder so that I sit down on the bed.

“Get started on…what?”

Shit.

Don’t tell me he already found out I’m pregnant? And if he did, what is he getting started on?

Kirill looms over me, his shoulders appearing wider and more frightening. “The doctor will now put a tracker in your arm. It shouldn’t take long.”

My lips part. “W-what?”

“You heard me just fine, Sasha.”

“Yes, I did, but I’m trying to figure out if you’re joking.”

“I never joke.”

“You already track my damn phone. Why would you need this as well?”

“Because your phone isn’t reliable when it’s turned off or when you lose it intentionally or unintentionally.”

“So you’re putting a tracker in me? Just like that?”

“It’s the only option to ensure your safety.”

I stand up and jam a finger in his chest. “More like, the only option for you to monitor me. I’m not doing this.”

I start to move past him, but he grabs my arms and sits me back down so fast, dizziness assaults me.

He lowers himself so that his cold eyes are level with mine. “Don’t be difficult.”

“Difficult? So I’m the one who’s being difficult in this?”

“You have a tendency to disappear, so this is the best solution to make sure you’re safe.”

“Don’t do this,” I whisper gently. “This isn’t how you make me your partner, Kirill.”

“I can’t make you my fucking partner when you’re thinking about running off.” He looks back at the doctor and nurse, who have been watching the show silently. “Do it.”

I start to fight, kicking and clawing at his arm, but he pins me down on the bed with brute strength. His knees are on either side of my thighs, keeping them in place, and he imprisons my wrists above my head on the bed.

I have to loosen my muscles so he doesn’t crush my belly or something.

He hovers above me and releases a hand, but he keeps my shoulder flat and immobile on the bed.

The nurse disinfects my upper arm. The coldness of the alcohol isn’t even uncomfortable, but moisture gathers in my eyes.

I stare at him through my blurry vision, then whisper, “I hate you.”

“You can hate me all you like as long as you’re safe.”

“The one person I need to be safe from is you, asshole.”

“Get it all off your chest,” he says in a nearly sarcastic voice.

“I’m going to remove this the moment we’re divorced in a few weeks.”

He doesn’t like that. In fact, he dislikes it so much that I feel the weight of his negative emotions squashing my chest.

Good. I said it to hurt him as much as he’s hurting me.

I expect him to say that won’t happen or that I’m dreaming, but he says nothing and leaves me at the mercy of his darkness.

The prick of whatever the doctor is doing doesn’t hurt. The fact that Kirill is subjugating me to this does.

I glare up at him. “How would you feel if the roles were reversed and I forced you to do this?”

“I’d do it.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“If you want a tracker on me, I’ll get one this instant, Sasha.”

“Then do it. Let’s see how you feel when I monitor your every move.”

A second passes.

Two.

On the third, he lifts himself off me and sits on the foot of the bed. Then, he announces, “Put another tracker in me.”

The nurse is finishing with my arm, but I can’t focus on her as the doctor heads to the closet and then returns with another tray.

Kirill removes his jacket and unbuttons his shirt with meticulous, calm movements before he bares his left arm.

Once the nurse is done, I slowly sit up and settle beside him. “You’re really doing this?”

“If it makes you feel better that we’re on the same page, I don’t mind.”

I prefer that neither of us gets a tracker, but since that’s not possible, this puts some form of a balm on the wound.

There’s still the tiny fact that he’s doing it willingly, and I don’t have to hold him down for it.

If I weren’t scared about the baby’s safety, I would wrestle the asshole and pin him down.

The doctor finishes with him in record time and then says Viktor should be able to have it activated.

I leave the clinic first, my shoulders drooped and my steps forced.

Kirill catches up to me and wraps an arm around my waist. I try to push it away. “Don’t touch me.”

“Why wouldn’t I touch my wife?”

“I don’t know, maybe due to the fact that I want to claw your eyes out right now?”

“How will I look at you if you do that?”

I roll my eyes and focus on the horizon. “This is the last time you force me into anything. Do something like this again, and I’ll disappear to where you’ll never find me, even if I have to cut my damn arm off for it.”

His fingers sink into my hip, bruising me. “I wouldn’t have to do this if you didn’t think about nonsense like that.”

“Maybe I’m thinking about it because of your actions.” I shoot him a glare. “I won’t tolerate it if you don’t see me as an equal or value my opinion. I mean it, Kirill. I stomped on my feelings for you when I left for Russia, and I can do it again in a heartbeat.”

A slow smirk tilts his lips. “So you have feelings for me.”

“Seriously? That’s all you took from what I said?”

“Isn’t that the highlight?”

“You know what? Forget it. We’re just going down a closed path.”

“So feelings are a closed path now?”

“When I’m mad at you, yes, they are.”

We pause in front of the house, where a dozen suitcases are being loaded into the back of a van. Kirill only stopped because I did. He’s so distant from the situation that he doesn’t spare the car or the staff any attention.

I wonder if he always wanted to do this but kept Yulia around for his brother’s sake. Now that Konstantin is wary of her, Kirill probably figured it was time for her to go.

He probably let her live in the house in a ‘keep your enemies closer’ way, but he’s the Pakhan with stakes in the bank her family owns now, so he doesn’t need to do that anymore.

When we go into the house, a palpable tension lingers in the air. Karina stands by the stairs, hugging one of the railings for dear life.