Page 193 of Nine Months to Bear

“You know what your problem is, Stefan?” She moves away from the wall, casual as anything. “You just don’t know when you have a good thing going. You’re always looking for the next, the next, the next. It’s pathetic, really. A sad little boy wandering around, whimpering, ‘Won’t somebody complete me?’”

“Is that what Iakov tells you?”

“Iakov doesn’t need to tell me anything. I have eyes.” She gestures around the foyer. “Look at you. The high and mighty Stefan Safonov, reduced to this. Pacing. Worrying. Caring about some nobody whore of a doctor.”

My hands curl into fists, but I keep them at my sides. “She’s not nobody.”

“No? Then what is she? Smart? There are thousands of smart women in Boston. Beautiful? Please. You could have models, actresses, anyone you wanted. Good in bed? I doubt she’s that special.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Or what?” Mikayla laughs, sharp and cruel. “You’ll defend her honor? How sweet. How utterly unlike you.”

She circles me now, predator playing with prey. Except she’s wrong about who’s who.

“You want to know what she really is?” Mikayla continues. “She’sconvenient. A walking incubator with the right degrees and the right desperation. That’s all. And when this is over, when Iakov has what he wants and you’re scrambling to rebuild, you’ll see that, too.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Tell me, Stefan, what happens when you get her back?Ifyou get her back, I mean. You think she’ll forgive you? After finding your little journal? After learning you planned to destroy everything she worked for?” She stops in front of me. “No. She won’t. She’ll take your money, maybe let you see the kid on weekends, and move on with her life. Find someone better. Someone who didn’t lie to her from day one.”

“That’s not?—”

“And even if by some miracle she does forgive you, then what? You play house? You pretend to be normal?” She shakes her head. “Men like you don’t get happy endings, Stefan. You get betrayal or boredom. Sometimes, both.”

Taras shifts behind me, probably wondering why I’m letting her talk. But I need to hear this. Need to know exactly what kind of poison she’s been spreading.

“She’s already breaking you,” Mikayla continues. “Making you soft. Weak. How long before your enemies notice? How long before someone besides Iakov makes a move?”

“Are you done?”

“Almost.” She steps closer, drops her voice. “Here’s the truth: Even if you find her—and with the way things are looking right now, that’s a big, bigif—it’ll be too late. She’ll have heard things. Seen things. The kind of things that change how a person looks at you forever.”

“Things like what?”

“Oh, Stefan.” Her smile is pitying now. “You really don’t know who has her, do you?”

Cold dread slithers through me. I grab her throat. “Tell me.”

Mikayla’s fingers tap against my wrist where I’m gripping her by the neck. Not panicked—patient. Like she’s waiting for the perfect moment.

“You sure you want to know?” Her voice comes out rough but amused. “Fine. But you’re not going to like it.”

“Quit stalling and answer the fucking question, Mikayla. If it’s not Iakov, then who?”

Her smile stretches wider. “Someone who knows you better than you know yourself. Someone who’s been watching you for years, waiting for the right moment.”

“Stop playing games, goddammit!” I roar.

Mikayla winks. “Your mother says hello.”

TO BE CONTINUED