Page 37 of Sweet Deception (Savage Vow #2)

ANNA

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Gleb had shattered my day, left me utterly destroyed.

I couldn’t have predicted his exact reaction to my pregnancy, but I never imagined he’d suggest I abort our baby.

How could he be so cruel? To the world, he was the ‘Merchant of Death,’ a man deemed heartless, but to me, his wife, he’d never fully shown that side, until now.

I could no longer endure. I packed my bags, dragged them out of our master bedroom, and hauled them down the hall to an empty room. He could have the bed to himself. Until I figured out my next move, I needed solitude. There was no way I’d sleep beside a man who wanted my pregnancy erased.

After arranging my things in the new space, I stepped into the shower.

The hot water cascaded over me, and I lost myself in thought.

A knock at the door startled me. I stepped out, dried off, and glanced at the clock, 12:30 a.m. I’d been under the water for over an hour without realizing it.

Slipping into nightwear and slippers, I padded to the door and cracked it open. Gleb stood there.

“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice low.

“This is where I want to be for now. I need space, please respect that.”

“When you first came here, my hatred for you was like an insurmountable mountain. Yet, I still shared a room with you. You can’t just leave our marital bed over a misunderstanding.”

“That’s my choice. I need to sleep. Goodnight.” I moved to slam the door, but he blocked it with his hand.

He stepped inside, surveying the room as if it were unfamiliar, probably because of how I’d rearranged it. “Fine,” he said, flopping onto the bed and tucking his hands behind his head. “We’ll sleep here together then.”

“What?” I scowled. “Get out.”

“No. It’s my house. I can sleep wherever I want.”

I crossed my arms, fuming. “I’m not sharing that bed with you.”

“Where will you sleep, then?”

I glanced around. “The floor, maybe.”

“You’d rather sleep on the floor than beside me?” His tone sharpened. “Do you hate me that much?”

“Yes,” I snapped. “I hate you that much.”

He smirked, sitting up. “Then we’ll both sleep on the floor.”

“I’m not sleeping next to you,” I insisted.

“How about the edges of the bed?”

“So I can roll off and lose my pregnancy? That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

His face darkened, hurt flickering in his eyes. He stood. “I won’t let you sleep alone. Take the bed, I’ll take the floor.”

“Sleep on the ceiling for all I care.” I climbed into bed and lay down, turning away.

He sighed, grabbed a blanket from the wardrobe, and spread it on the floor. I heard him settle in. A pang stabbed my chest. Here I was, letting my husband sleep on the ground when I could be wrapped in his arms. But he didn’t want our baby, so why should I care?

Sleep eluded me. The weight of everything that had transpired between us, the arguments, the cruelty, the conflicting emotions. kept me wide awake, my thoughts spinning in endless circles. I turned this way and that, the pillow cold and uninviting

After what felt like hours,the faint sound of his breath, steady, rhythmic had me glancing toward him.

I slipped quietly off the bed and crept to his side. He lay still, eyes closed, his breathing even. Was he asleep? I couldn’t tell. I stared at his face, sharp jawline, tousled hair, strangely captivated. Then his eyes snapped open, catching me.

“Staring at me, huh?”

“No,” I lied, retreating to the bed. “Just checking something.”

“You could just ask me to come up there.”

“No.” Though part of me ached to say yes.

“Okay,” he murmured.

“Fine,” I relented. “Come up.”

He rose and slid into bed beside me. I turned to him, curling into his warmth, his arms enveloping me. “You think I can’t protect our child?” he whispered.

“I don’t know. It hurts that you’d want me to abort our baby.”

“You can keep it.” The words came out like a surrender, as if he’d been wrestling with them since the moment I told him. “I’ll protect you, Anna. I’ll protect our child.”

I lifted my head from his chest. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

I settled back, wary. “Is there a ‘but’?”

“No. It’s our baby. We’ll fight for a better, peaceful life for him... or her.”

“How do we handle our families?”

“I’ll deal with them.”

“How? Killing a few people won’t fix this. Even killing my parents wouldn’t change how complicated this is.”

“I’ll figure it out,” he promised. “Can you feel the baby yet?”

I laughed. “You’re clueless about pregnancy, aren’t you? I’m only two weeks along, it’s barely an embryo, not even a fetus.”

“Oh,” he chuckled. “What do we need to do to keep you comfortable?”

“It’s more about what I want you to do.”

“Tell me.”

“It hasn’t hit me yet since it’s early, but when it does, I just need you around.”

“I’ll be here whenever you need me, even if it means dropping everything for nine months. It’s worth it. We’re creating a life.”

I flushed, leaning in to kiss him. “You’re annoying and sweet at the same time.”

“So are you.”

“That’s marriage, I guess. Not always a bed of roses.”

“And when it’s not,” he said, “it’s unfair for the wife to abandon the matrimonial bed. If I hadn’t swallowed my pride and come here, this rift could’ve dragged on for weeks, both of us miserable.”

“You’re right,” I admitted. “I won’t do it again.”

“What if it’s a girl?” I asked.

“So what if it’s a girl or a boy? I don’t care.”

Relief washed over me. I’d feared he’d only want a son, but his indifference to gender lifted a weight I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying.

My hand drifted to his waistband, brushing against him. His arousal stirred beneath my touch. I slipped my hand inside, gripping him as he swelled, too thick for my fingers to fully encircle.

“Just to be sure,” He teased, “we can still fuck during pregnancy, right?”

“You really know nothing about this, do you?”

“It’s my first time,” he admitted. “I haven’t Googled it yet, but I will so I stop asking dumb questions.”

“For now, we can make love as much as we want. When my belly grows, we might still be able to, but you’ll need to be gentle.”

“I’ll be as gentle as you need, babe.”

In one fluid motion, he rolled me onto my back, his lips crashing into mine. The kiss was fire, raw and desperate, a collision of anger and longing. but it wasn’t just about lust. There was something more, something we were both too afraid to name.

I tugged his shirt off, revealing the hard planes of his chest, and he shed his trousers in a swift, practiced move.

His hands found the hem of my nightwear, peeling it open, then slid my panties down my thighs.

His fingers, two of them eased inside me, stretching me with a slight sting that melted into pleasure.

I gasped, my walls yielding to him as he thrust slowly, his mouth devouring mine with a hunger that mirrored my own.

Our enemies-to-lovers dance had always been a battlefield, but this, this was surrender.

His fingers worked me open, coaxing moans from my throat, until he withdrew them, leaving me aching.

Then he was there, his length pressing into me, gentle at first, our eyes locked in a rare, unguarded moment.

I shrank beneath him, overwhelmed by the intimacy.

His hand slid to my throat, not choking, just holding, grounding me, as he began to move harder, deeper.

“Fuck, Gleb...” I moaned, shameless, lost in him.

He was long, thick, filling me until I felt him in my core. Tears pricked my eyes, not from pain, but from the intensity of it all.

“Babe...” He paused.

I laughed through the tears, clutching his hips. “I just love how you make me feel. Don’t stop.”

He grinned, resuming with a rhythm that drove me wild.

Then he flipped me over, bending me onto my knees.

From behind, he thrust again, relentless, his hand alternating between gripping my hair and my neck, slapping my ass with a sting that heightened every sensation.

I was unraveling, spiraling into madness as he pounded into me, growling as he came, his release flooding me.

“Fuck,” he rasped, collapsing onto me. His lips brushed the nape of my neck, tickling me until I squirmed. He chuckled, trailing kisses down my spine, over the curve of my ass, worshipping every inch.

I blushed, my face buried in the pillow. He turned me onto my back, cupping my breast, squeezing gently before kissing each nipple. I giggled, intoxicated by his touch. Our lips met again, fierce and hungry,

“My printsessa,” he murmured between kisses, his voice rough with a need that matched mine.

We went two more rounds, each as passionate as the first. until exhaustion claimed us both, and we slept tangled together.

Twenty Weeks Later

Gleb guided me into the hospital, my slightly swollen belly now a constant weight. The past few weeks had been rough, pregnancy symptoms hitting hard. Yesterday, I’d bled, and fear had gripped me ever since.

We’d done an ultrasound, and now we sat in the VIP waiting room, awaiting the results.

The doctor had promised it’d take less than an hour.

I laced my fingers with Gleb’s, resting my head on his shoulder, my heart pounding.

I couldn’t bear bad news, I’d grown so attached to this baby, eager for it to arrive in the coming months.

I’d also asked the doctor to confirm the gender.

Footsteps approached. I looked up, spotting a man I’d seen only once, someone who worked with Gleb. “Boris,” Gleb said, standing abruptly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

I stayed seated, watching them.

“You weren’t answering your phone,” Boris replied.

“I’m with my wife. She needs me. Your calls just remind me of work I’m trying to escape.”

Boris glanced at me. “Hi, Mrs. Romanov.”

“Hey,” I said, forcing a smile.

“We need to talk,” Boris told Gleb.

“I’m not leaving her.”

“It’s urgent. I wouldn’t track you down otherwise.”

“Go,” I urged Gleb. “I’ll be fine.” The room was secure, and he wouldn’t be far.

He left with Boris.