Page 61 of Ruthless Rustanovs

ONE MONTH LATER

SAM stared at the three pregnancy tests resting on top of the staff bathroom’s toilet seat.

“Damn!” she whispered. “Damn, damn, damn!”

She was totally, undeniably pregnant.

If the constant queasiness that had set in a couple of days ago hadn’t made it clear enough, the fact that she was four days into her usually clockwork cycle with still no period made it crystal clear.

And just in case that wasn’t evidence enough, she now had these three over-the-counter pregnancy tests: one with two lines, one with a cross, one stating in letters bold and plain, “Pregnant.”

So no, there was pretty much zero doubt. She was pregnant.

Sam slumped back against the wall, her stomach roiling with more than morning sickness. How was she going to tell Nikolai about this?

She had to tell him. She promised she would.

But, oh God, this would make things so awkward.

Even more awkward than things currently were, with her tenuously serving as a sort of de facto nanny to Pavel, two weeks after Nikolai had officially been awarded custody of his nephew.

Normally, it would have taken longer than that, but the hockey star with the newly discovered half-black nephew had made front page news in Indiana, and magically, the case had been heard in record time.

So now she was only living under his roof because he hadn’t kicked her out.

Yet. And also because he didn’t seem all that interested in raising Pavel himself.

Other than insisting he be sent to St. Peter’s, an all boy’s school.

It was one of the best private schools in Indiana, but Sam suspected his insistence on sending Pavel to this particular school had to do with them being willing to have a security guard posted outside Pavel’s classroom at all times. Per Nikolai’s request.

But other than that, Nikolai seemed content to let Sam deal with all his nephew’s before and after school needs.

Nikolai often worked weekends, too, traveling to out of town games with his team.

So she and Pavel had been left to navigate Saturdays and Sundays—and any other days the team traveled—on their own with the occasional assist from her intern, Nyla.

The grad student was currently working at Ruth’s House for free, and was therefore happy to pick up extra babysitting hours when Sam needed to put in weekend time at the shelter.

But other than hiring a former marine named Dirk to oversee Pavel’s safety outside his home, Nikolai seemed less than interested in the fact that there was now a child underneath his roof.

He didn’t make any effort to spend his free morning hours with Pavel, and he often worked so late that he got home after Pavel had gone to bed.

Some seriously dickish behavior on Nikolai’s part, Sam thought.

But having made the monumentally stupid decision to sleep with him without a condom, it wasn’t like she had much of a moral leg to stand on…

or like she could even look him in the eye these days.

No, instead, she’d focused on doing whatever she could to help Pavel adjust to his new, luxurious lifestyle while keeping her head down as she did so. Maybe if Nikolai didn’t notice she was still around, he wouldn’t ask when she’d be leaving.

But now she was pregnant and that would definitely throw a big ass hitch in her “out of sight, out of mind” plan of action.

A knock sounded on the door, interrupting her panicked thoughts.

“Sam, you in there?” came Nyla’s voice through the door.

Sam hastily disposed of all the sticks, sweeping them into the small wastebasket beside the toilet. “Yeah, I’m here. Do you need something?”

“We’ve got two intake requests from Hope House. I told them we were full, too, but they’re hoping we can squeeze two more in. Also, Marco’s here on rounds again, and I know you asked me to handle it when he stops by but he’s saying he’d like to see you.”

Sam sighed. So not only was she pregnant. Not only was Ruth’s House overbooked. But now Marco was literally at the door. She took a deep breath and came out to face her African-American intern, Nyla Weathers.

Nyla had five piercings in her right eyebrow, a lip ring, a nose ring, a laughing Buddha tattooed on the back of her neck, and long relaxed hair—which almost made her look traditional until she turned and you could see the hair was completely shaved off on one side.

Yet she looked at Sam like she was the strange one when she came out of the bathroom.

“Hey, you okay?” Nyla asked with a worried frown. “You look, I don’t know. Kind of shook. If you want I can deal with Marco.” She gave Sam a rueful grin. “I’ve learned a lot about how to handle overbearing men since coming to intern here.”

That almost got a chuckle out of Sam. This was why she’d only been half-joking when she’d suggested to Josie that Nyla could take over Ruth’s House Indiana.

The younger woman was capable and passionate about advocating for women and children.

And like Sam, she didn’t back down when presented with challenging situations.

But in this case, she turned down the offer, telling Nyla she’d call Hope House back after she talked to Marco.

Marco’s face lit up when she came outside.

“Hey, long time no see,” he said, cupping her shoulders. “Why haven’t you been returning any of my phone calls?”

Sam desperately wanted to lie, to tell him she’d been busy, anything to not have to deal with Marco after just finding out that she was definitely pregnant with Nikolai Rustanov’s child.

But unfortunately, she’d seen too many women stalked to let Marco go on thinking he had any kind of chance with her.

She leveled Marco with a frank look before saying, “Marco, I haven’t been returning your phone calls because I’m not interested in talking to you in a non-professional capacity. I don’t want to date you.”

Marco’s eyebrows went up, like she’d both surprised and insulted him. “Wow, that’s harsh!”

“I know,” she said. And that was all she said.

These were the rules of relationships in the world she lived in.

Don’t give men reasons, or anything that could be used against you later as a reason, to overstep boundaries.

Be okay with them thinking you’re a bitch, if that meant they’d leave you alone.

Despite her harsh words, Marco still didn’t let go of her shoulders. “But I thought we had something, Sam. We’ve got a lot in common. We’re both doing good in the community. You’re cute,” he reached up and stroked one of her twists behind her ear, “…I’m cute.”

Sam had to work not to laugh. Marco, she noted, was still very charming.

Just not a match for her. Plus, it showed how little Marco knew about her if he thought they had a lot in common.

He was from a stable, loving, and close-knit Latino family.

His desktop picture was actually one of him, his parents, and his four siblings, all smiling at the camera like they didn’t have a care in the world.

Sam was the total opposite. A do-gooder who’d worked crazy hours before Pavel had come along because the alternative to that was being alone since she didn’t have any family to take smiling pictures with.

But Marco didn’t know just how different their pasts were because she’d done with him what she’d always done with the men she dated—kept every conversation focused mostly on him.

She didn’t blame Marco for not knowing much about her below the surface, but still she had to tell him, “We’re not a match, Marco. And I don’t want you to go on thinking we ever could be.”

Marco frowned and his hands tightened around her shoulders. “Is this because of Rustanov?” he asked, his face darkening. “You two got something going on now? Is that why you’re dumping me?”

She couldn’t help the guilty look that crossed her face but she said, “No, we’re not together.”

He studied her, his suspicion obvious. “But you don’t want to date me now.”

“No.”

His mouth flattened into an angry line. “Mind telling me what changed?”

She opened her mouth to tell him exactly why she didn’t want to go out with him, prepared to give him a no holds barred list of reasons if that was what it took.

But she stopped when goose bumps suddenly sprang up on her skin.

Her heart filled with knowing apprehension even before she turned to look.

There was only one person she knew with a stare so intense, she could actually feel it.

And yes… yes, there was Nikolai Rustanov standing at the bottom of the steps with his hands jammed in his pea coat pockets, a thunderous look on his face.