Page 132 of Ruthless Rustanovs

SHE was pregnant. The Darkness came on so suddenly this time, it nearly blacked out his vision. Sirena was pregnant. His wife was pregnant. With another man’s baby.

For seconds on end, he was so busy trying to tame the beast inside him, he didn’t realize she was on the move until she was nearly through her apartment door. As it was, he only just managed to keep the door from slamming in his face.

Pushing it back open, he followed her into the condo. Nose flaring in and out as he watched her waddle away from him toward the kitchen at a determined clip.

He couldn’t believe a woman as far along as she obviously was could move so fast. Or that she was pregnant at all. How had this happened? She was obviously more than three months pregnant, but Dexter had been watching her the entire time she’d been doing the opera.

There was no way she could have gotten artificially inseminated on Dexter’s watch. But then how—?

The truth hit him like a pile of bricks, stopping him in his tracks in the middle of the front room. It was his. The baby inside her belly was his!

The room went a little fuzzy then, and he shook his head, unable to process what his brain was telling him.

But it was the only explanation that made any sense.

He’d not used condoms with her over the past year, mostly because he’d mistaken her meaning when she’d said he didn’t have to worry about her getting pregnant.

Bair swayed like a fighter who’d just taken a hit straight to the face, and then he raised his eyes to Sirena...

Just in time to see that she was now standing in her open plan kitchen with a steak knife fisted in both her hands.

“Get out!” she said, her voice low and ugly, as she held the knife out in front of her.

He shook his head confused. Why was she holding the knife, like she was afraid?

Another truth hit him then. She thought he was going to hurt her. Because she was pregnant with his baby. She still thought he was capable of such a thing. And now, unlike every other time he’d confronted her, she was truly afraid of him.

Someone was yelling in Russian behind him. He looked over his shoulder at the personal guard and driver he’d left posted below. “Nyet!” he told the guard when he saw him going for his piece. “I will handle this.”

“But—”

“She is only woman. I can handle. Now go wait below.”

The guard backed away slowly, eyeing the knife-wielding woman with the crazed look in her eyes the entire way. But he did as commanded. Probably figuring correctly that it was better to let his boss get stabbed than risk the repercussions for not following a direct order.

Bair turned back to his wife after the guard was gone. “Sirena…” he started to say.

“I’m not Sirena!” she screamed at him, voice unhinged. “I’m Thel! And I won’t let you take this baby from me. I love her. I love her with all my soul.”

A girl? They were going to have girl?

He took a step toward her, instinctively reaching out.

But she backed further into the kitchen like an animal cornered.

“Get out!” she screamed, holding the knife up even higher. “Get out! Or I swear I’ll give you another scar for your belly!”

His nose flared. Every primal instinct in his body tugging him in a different direction than out. He wanted answers. He wanted…he didn’t know what exactly, but he knew it didn’t involve being on the business end of his wife’s knife.

However, in the end, he drew himself up straight…and backed away slowly. He knew how to read fighters, and the manic look in her eyes didn’t speak well of what might happen if he dared turn his back on her. His Sirena was in full mama bear mode, her champagne eyes burning beautiful and bright.

She watched him with sharp eyes. Alert as a tigress. And as soon as he stepped back into the hallway, she sprang into action. Leaping forward and slamming the door in his face.

The next thing he heard was her ragged breathing as several locks engaged. Then came the sound of her terrified sobbing on the other side of the door.

He laid a fist against the door, wanting to bang on it. Wanting to break it down to get to her. But knowing either action would only make things worse.

***

“Who the hell would be calling at this time of night?” Alexei’s wife, Eva, demanded.

Alexei wondered the same thing as he turned over to answer the phone.

He frowned when he saw the name on the lit up screen. “Boris, I hope this is important,” he said in Russian.

He sat up when he heard his brother’s answer. As did his wife.

“Is he okay?” she asked, obviously hearing the unhinged desperation in his brother’s voice, even if she didn’t understand all the Russian words he was shouting loud enough for her to hear on the other side of the phone.

“No,” Alexei mouthed, shaking his head at her.

Then he said to his brother, “Yes, I still have number for that San Francisco doctor. No, don’t worry he can probably transfer the—Calm down, Borya. It will be okay. I am here. Your brother will help you through this.”

“Is he hurt?” his wife, who could understand his tone but not his words, asked.

No, worse, Alexei thought, before giving his frantic brother more reassuring words in Russian.