Page 155 of Nine Months to Bear

Her mouth falls open. “You can’t just… Youwrotethat contract. Every word of it was designed to?—”

“I know what I wrote.” I step closer. She doesn’t back away. “I wrote itbefore.”

“Before what?”

“Before you.” My hand moves without permission, brushing a tear from her cheek.

“Stefan—”

“Ourchild, Olivia. Not mine. Ours.”

Fresh tears spill over. “You don’t mean that.”

“When have I ever said anything I don’t mean?”

She laughs, watery and broken. “Never. You’re pathologically honest. It’s a little scary.”

“So believe me now.”

“I can’t.” She wraps her arms around herself. “If I believe you and you change your mind?—”

“I won’t.”

“You don’t know that! Once the baby’s here, once you have the heir you always wanted, you might?—”

“Stop.” I cup her face in both hands, force her to look at me. “I’m not going anywhere. Neither are you.”

“That’s not what we agreed to.”

“Then we’ll agree to something else.”

Her eyes search mine. Looking for the catch, the trap, the fine print. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Why?”

Good fucking question.Why?I spent months planning all of this. I built the whole thing to keep feelings out of it. To maintain control.

And here I am now, pouring gasoline all over it and lighting the match. Not because it serves me, but because…

“When I saw those two lines just now, all I could think about was you. Not the baby, not my legacy, not the fucking Bratva.You. How you looked when you found out. If you were scared. If you were alone.”

“I was terrified,” she whispers.

“I know.”

“I still am.”

“I know that, too.”

She leans into my palm. Just a little. Just enough. “What are we doing, Stefan?”

“I don’t know.” It’s maybe the most honest thing I’ve ever said. “But we’re doing it together.”

“Together,” she repeats, like she’s testing the word.

“The baby. The clinic. All of it.” I drop my forehead to hers. “Together. I’m as scared as you are, but?—”