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Chapter Thirty

ERIN

I stare at the wall in my room while Ilya continues to try to engage me in banter.

Deeper conversation failed, asking me questions failed, and now he’s trying to get me with his damned banter.

Normally, it would work. I like Ilya, but I don’t want to talk. I want to be left alone and lick my wounds and silently condemn Demyan.

How could he do this? Marry another woman?

I can’t believe it.

It would be one thing for him to be engaged and discover he had a son. I could understand that. He’d have to work things out in sharing Sasha with me.

Sharing? I almost laugh.

I don’t know if he does that. And I can’t see him spending time with me and having another woman. Or at least, I couldn’t. But he’s got one.

He’s got another woman and he’s been sleeping with me. He’s got another woman and he’s been lying to me. About love. About a future. About marrying me. Something he demanded .

I shake my head.

Oh Christ, is this some kind of sick, twisted revenge? A form of payback? He nearly broke me when he kicked the door down. When he taunted me by showing me the video of Sasha after locking me in that room.

What kind of sick, horrible man is he and how the hell do I even have feelings for him?

Sure, he tried telling me some bullshit about it all, that it was a means to an end and I’m the one he wants to be with. But if that was true, then how the hell is he engaged still?

I want my son. I want Demyan so I can scream at him.

Ilya’s saying something about Demyan, and I turn. He stops talking at whatever look is on my face.

I imagine it isn’t very pretty, because there are some ugly emotions in me right now. And I glare at him some more.

“Did you know?”

He hesitates a moment, then sighs. “He told me earlier. After the interrupted poker game.”

“I’m going to kill him and you’re going to help me.” I stop. “Actually, get my son and you can help us get far away. I hate all of you. Except Alina.”

“That’s good to know,” he mutters. “Personally, I think you and Demyan are made for each other.”

I start to turn away.

“For what it’s worth, Erin, he wasn’t pleased.”

“About getting himself a backup fiancée?” I ask, snapping back to look at him. “Oh, good, then that’s settled.”

He keeps his face straight. “He was very cut up about it.” Then he hesitates. “He admitted he’s in love with you.”

I laugh bitterly. “Like that even matters anymore. I’m not that na?ve. I’m guessing this Sergio is another crime lord or something?”

When he doesn’t answer, I go on.

“So I can’t see his impending nuptials are going to be called off. I mean, there’s a wedding planner! So where does that leave me? His secret mistress?”

“Erin—”

“Excuse me,” someone says and I swing my gaze to the door where a young doctor stands. Maybe I should seduce her and show Demyan what it feels like. Even better, upstage him with a woman.

Dragging in a breath, I try to get myself under control. Thing is, if I don’t make light, I’ll fall to absolute pieces.

The doctor’s gaze shifts from me to Ilya. “You’re not Mr. Yegorov.”

“Anything you have to say, you can say.”

“I’d like to speak to Ms. Banks in private.”

Ilya crosses his arms. “As I said?—”

“Ilya, please,” I say. When he doesn’t move, exasperation hits me. “The door’s the only way in or out. It’s not like I can escape.”

“It’s not about you escaping, Erin. It’s about keeping you safe. I’m staying.”

“No. You’re going.” I look at him. “Please.”

His eyes narrow as he gets up. “You look very young to be a doctor.”

“I’m old enough. Here.” She shows him her photo ID. “Ms. Banks will be in safe hands. You have my word.”

“Ilya,” I say. “Go guard the room from the outside.”

There’s a moment where I think he’ll just sit back down and stay, but he doesn’t.

“Fine. I’ll be right outside. My phone’s buzzing, anyway.” He goes up to the doctor and leans in. “Right. Out. Side.” He pauses. “You have five minutes.”

Finally, he goes and the doctor checks me over. “Have you had any other symptoms? Besides the fainting?”

I stare at her as she finishes taking my temperature, and then she takes my blood pressure .

“Symptoms?”

The doctor looks at me and blushes. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew and were just worried.”

“About what?”

“Congratulations. You’re pregnant. The father, Mr. Yegorov, was extremely concerned. The way he was acting it was like you were giving birth, not in your first trimester.”

I’m glad I’m lying down because… Holy shit.

Pregnant.

I’m pregnant?

Does that man have super sperm?

My head spins. Shit, this just adds another layer of complicated to the complication I already have. And I don’t need that right now.

“He doesn’t know?” The doctor frowns, glancing at the door, seeming to put things together. “If this isn’t what you want, then you have options if you want them. We can be discreet.”

“T-thank you,” I say, trying to calm down. “I’ll think about it.”

Ilya storms in, looking upset, and terror grips me. Oh hell, did he overhear that conversation?

Did he hear the doctor talk about options because in Demyan’s world that’s a no-no.

But it’s my body, not Demyan’s. And… Another Sasha— I stop because this right now is just complicated and I’m about to try and plead with him not to tell Demyan anything he might have heard when I register his expression.

The look on his face isn’t about pregnancy. It’s something worse.

Demyan. I try to scrabble up. I’m furious at the man, but if something’s happened?—

“Erin.”

“What—”

“It’s Sasha. ”

My world starts imploding and the monitor I’m hooked to starts beeping madly.

“You have to calm down,” the doctor says.

Ilya looks at her. “Get out.”

She scurries away.

“Ilya, what about Sasha?”

“He’s been kidnapped.”

Hysteria sweeps through me, and my body is numb. My vision blurs. “He’s what? My baby…” Something inside me snaps. I glare at him and reach out, snagging his jacket. I pull him almost on me.

“Call Demyan. Now!”

He presses call, and I snatch the phone from him.

“Ilya—”

“It’s Erin,” I snap. “What the fuck happened, Demyan? Who took my son? How? You told me we were safe, that he was safe.”

My voice is rising and I can’t stop it.

“I’m looking for him. I promise you I’ll find my son.”

I start to cry. And Demyan’s speaking, Ilya’s trying to comfort me, but I shout over Demyan and shove Ilya away.

“I don’t need anything but my son. Find him,” I sob. “I don’t care. Do what it takes, everything in your power to bring our child home safely!”

The phone slips from my fingers, and hits the floor and I collapse in on myself in a world of tears.