Page 91 of Nine Months to Bear

Taras whistles low. “That’s what the kids are calling it these days? In my time, we just said?—”

“It’s what he told me,” I interrupt. “His words.”

“Then I guess time will tell which of you is lying.”

I wonder how much I can trust this man. He’s clearly loyal to Stefan—that much is obvious. I doubt he’ll unlock whichever of the twenty spare bedrooms my shoes are hidden in or give me the code to the front door, but he might be willing to tell me things Stefan never would.

The thought is tempting. This is the man who has seen Stefan at his best and worst, who knows his secrets, his past.

“You say you’ve known him for many years,” I venture carefully. “Did he always have… all this?” I gesture vaguely at the immaculate kitchen straight out ofArchitecture Digest. “Has he always been so…”

So intoxicating? Mysterious? Able to get a woman down to her panties with one well-timed smirk?

“Filthy rich?” Taras finishes, proving that he is not at all on the same page as me. “Yes and no. His parents had money when he was born, but he earned his place.”

I snort. “Spoken like a true nepo baby’s BFF.”

Something in his eyes hardens. There’s no doubting Taras’s loyalty, that’s for sure. “You don’t know what he’s been through—what he’s done—to get here. Don’t pretend you do.”

I don’t push the issue. I just nod and swallow down whatever I was going to say next.

His phone chimes, breaking the tension. “Your apartment is secure, by the way,” he says as he glances at the screen. “My men have been monitoring it since you got here.”

“You’ve been watching my apartment?” Outrage flares, hot and bright.

“Standard procedure for everyone in thepakhan’sorbit.”

“Pakhan?” I repeat. “That’s what, Russian for ‘control freak’?”

“Ha!” Taras barks out an amused laugh. “Something like that.”

I’m about to press further when the doorbell rings.

Taras stands up at once. “It’s a good thing I was monitoring things because, before your mom showed up, I caught a woman trying to break in. I took the liberty of bringing her here instead.”

I frown. “Someone was trying to break in? Was it about the shooting yesterday? Am I being hunted or something?”

I thought Stefan was being overprotective, but suddenly, my heart is racing. Do I need a protective detail? Am I going to have to disappear? Go into Witness Protection? Do they evenhaveWitness Protection for criminals’ baby mamas?

Before I can spiral too far, Taras returns with my wide-eyed assistant trailing behind him. Camille’s eyes dart frantically around the foyer, taking in the hand-carved crown molding and the wrought iron staircase railing.

“Holy. Fucking. Shitballs. Livvy, this place ishuge!” She runs over to me and clutches my arm, manicured talons digging into my skin, eyes bugging right out of her head. “We’re standing under a crystal chandelier right now. If it fell, we’d both be crushed. Death by Tiffany diamonds.”

Taras chuckles. It’s only then that we both seem to remember he’s still in the room with us.

Camille hitches a thumb at him. “Also, your new bodyguard needs to work on his bedside manner. He thought I was breaking in.”

“Because you were,” Taras retorts.

Camille narrows her eyes over her shoulder at him. “I think you’re dismissed now. Right, Olivia?”

She says it like I have any control over Taras. I meet his eyes, and thankfully, he looks bemused rather than pissed. “I’ll dismiss myself so you two can talk.”

He turns to go. I try to pull Camille along because, if I know anything about Stefan’s methods, Taras will probably end up just lurking around the corner, eavesdropping and taking notes.

But Camille is rooted to the spot. “Olivia Aster. Are youlivinghere with him?!”

“With Taras? No, he’s just?—”