Page 14

14

ANASTASIA

“ W here is he?” I leap from the car, hurrying across the parking lot while scanning each face in turn.

“Viktor? Where is he? Viktor!”

News that Viktor had been shot hit with the force of a freight train.

The last thing I needed was the man with incredible knowledge and experience to end up dead because I sent him in my stead.

There was already far too much at stake and I couldn’t afford to lose him, or anyone, right now.

It would put us at war with the Cartel, which is very much something I’d like to avoid.

“He’s over there. Around the back of the van,” Ryan explains as I hurry past him with Erik following close behind.

My heart races and I half-walk, half-jog toward the black van parked near the outskirts of the parking lot.

“Viktor?” As I round the vehicle, my mind bursts open with a flurry of injuries that will greet me.

To my surprise—and immense relief—Viktor appears fine at a glance.

He sits on the bed of the van, holding his arm across his body while one of our doctors works on wrapping a thick bandage around his bicep.

“Anastasia.” He greets me with a firm, flat smile.

“What happened? Tell me everything.”

“What do you think happened?” There’s a flicker of bitterness in his tone.

“I got shot.”

“I can see that.” My gut clenches rapidly, feeding into the guilt and anxiety that fuzzes through my chest.

“Why?”

“Why?” Viktor jerks his arm away from the doctor, seemingly satisfied by the patch-up job.

“Because of you , Anastasia. I got shot because of you.”

I step back as Viktor wobbles to his feet and snatches his jacket from one of his men standing close by.

“Some context would be helpful.”

“Look around you, Anastasia. I met with the Cartel as you instructed and it went as well as throwing a snake into a nest of wasps. They’re pissed. Really fucking pissed, and they want their money.”

“I’m well aware.”

“Are you?” He pulls the jacket on over one arm.

“We owe them millions and you haven’t paid back a single penny since you became Godmother. In fact, all you’ve done is carve us up and shut down every money-maker we ever had, leaving us open to anything our debtors might want from us. Doesn’t that cross your mind at all?”

“Of course it does,” I snap back sharply.

“I’m well aware of my father’s dealings with the Cartel. How it was them who helped him transport people around the county as if they were cargo. And I know he stopped paying them and relied on his reputation as currency to borrow guns, men, and even more money.”

“Then why aren’t you doing anything about it?” His voice raises as he pulls his jacket over his injured arm.

“Why haven’t you been making savvy business decisions to get us out of this mess instead of playing savior to strangers?”

“Because people are not a product, Viktor. Not anymore.”

He scoffs roughly, slamming shut the back doors of the van.

“Bullshit. Anything is cargo when the demand is high enough. And the Cartel are tired of waiting.” He slams the other door shut and faces me.

“You have until the gala to pay them. Or they’ll take what they owe in blood.”

“The gala…” My stomach tightness, and an unfamiliar pressure squeezes through my skull.

“That’s only two months.”

“Exactly. I took a bullet for you because this is a warning. They’re tired, and I don’t blame them. Look around you, Anastasia. Look at the men and women who work for you. Every single one of them no longer knows where their next paycheck is going to come from.”

“That’s not true,” I snap, and it’s difficult to keep my voice level.

“Everyone is taken care of.”

“Are they? For how long? Until you uncover another deal that you decide is amoral and then we’re back to pouring millions into fucking strangers while our own family and people suffer?” He surges forward and grabs my shoulders.

“This is why they call you weak. A woman who can’t stomach the difficulties of this job because you turn soft the second someone turns on the waterworks.”

“That’s not true and you know it,” I yell back, jerking out of his grip.

Around us, guards try to look elsewhere as if they’re not watching an argument break out.

“I could have stayed in that sickening business and people would still call me that. At least my conscience is clear.”

“Oh, great!” Viktor yells.

“We’ll all become Cartel fodder but it’s fine so long as your fucking conscience is clear.”

“No one else will ever be sold under the Remizova name, Viktor. You should have made peace with that by now.”

“I haven’t made peace with your throwing away millions in revenue while murderers breathe down our s looking for the tens of millions we owe them. Instead of taking care of the problem, you created another one that amplified the first, and now look!” He indicates to his arm.

“How many more of our people will suffer before you wake up for this bad path you’ve taken us on?”

“I have stuff in the works?—”

“Oh, the fucking construction,” Viktor snarls.

“Which you’re already discounting for the fucking Irish!”

The louder he yells, the louder my head buzzes.

A sickly warmth prickles down my spine and spreads out at my tailbone, sweeping around to add to the nauseating tightness in my gut.

I can’t tell whether I’m about to throw up or worse.

Maybe it’s the alcohol.

“You watch your tongue,” I snap.

“I am still your Godmother and I deserve your respect! It’s not my fault we’re in this fucking mess. Maybe if you’d advised my father better or told him to pay off those damn debts, then the Cartel wouldn’t even be an issue now!”

“Why you little?—”

“Stop!” Erik suddenly surges forward, grasping my arm and pushing me backward as he presses his other hand into Viktor’s chest and shoves him back.

“You watch your tone when speaking directly to the Godmother, do you understand? You may have been the old underboss and you may have taken a bullet for this family, but you are crossing a line!”

I stumble back from Erik’s push, but the ground remains unstable beneath my feet so I stumble backward again.

And then again.

The pressure in my mind becomes overwhelming and I briefly close my eyes.

It’s impossible to open them again.

“Am I dying?”

“No, dear.” The doctor laughs, scribbling on the clipboard in her hands.

“Far from it. Your blood sugar and iron levels are very low, which is likely the reason you fainted. We’ve got you on this” —she taps the line running into my arm— “to get your levels back up, and I’m going to prescribe some supplements. Managing your stress levels will also be beneficial.”

“My stress levels?” I roll my eyes with a soft groan, glancing around the hospital room I woke up in an hour ago.

“That’s going to be impossible.”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to find a way, dear. Because when we were running the blood tests, we found something else. Anastasia, are you aware that you are pregnant?”

“What?” My eyes snap back to her as my stomach feels like it’s about to plummet out of my ass.

“Pregnant?”

“Pregnant?” Faina stands in the half-open doorway with two cups of coffee in her hands.

I can’t look at her.

I’m too focused on the doctor.

“I’ll take that as a no,” she murmurs, adjusting something on her clipboard.

“Given the alcohol levels in your blood, I suspected this would be a shock.”

“Oh, my God,” I whisper.

Trembling fingers press to my lips.

“I have no idea. I was—I was drinking earlier tonight!”

“It’s okay.” The doctor reaches out and touches my shoulder.

“This early, it’s common when a pregnancy is a surprise, but I would advise against alcohol consumption in the future. You’re around five weeks along, nearly six. So again, you need to manage your stress levels and I’ll prescribe a few prenatal meds to help get your levels back up to where they need to be.”

She says more to me, and I watch her lips move but the words mean nothing.

Pregnant.

How am I pregnant?

Well, I know how.

I just didn’t think anything of it.

My periods have been so infrequent since my father passed due to stress that I stopped thinking about it.

I stopped thinking about anything in regard to myself because it felt selfish.

And suddenly, I’m here.

Pregnant.

“Thank you, doctor,” Faina says, setting the coffee cups down on the tray that stretches across my bed.

“We’ll be in touch.”

“Of course.” My doctor smiles warmly and steps away, closing the door behind her.

“Anastasia!” Faina hisses, clutching at my hand and perching on the edge of my bed next to me.

“Faina.”

“Pregnant!”

“I know.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“Please stop saying it.”

“I can’t believe this! I didn’t even know you were—oh, God, do you know who the father is?”

“Of course I do.”

Faina’s face scrunches up.

“Do I know?”

“Erik,” I murmur, meeting her gaze.

“I’ve been sleeping with him since… since the construction accident, actually.”

“Oh, my God.” Faina’s face scrunches further and then she smiles.

“Do you like him?”

“It’s just sex,” is my default answer, but it oddly feels like a lie.

“Is it?” Faina tilts her head.

“Look at you, breaking all the old traditions.”

“Did you think I would just wait until the perfect moment and then marry myself off into some other family?”

“Maybe. I contemplated your choosing someone from one of the higher families, but not your bodyguard.” Her lips press together.

“It’s kind of sexy.”

“Stop it.” I shove at her lightly.

“Fuck. I never thought this would happen. I mean, I guess it’s obvious, but with everything else going on I just…” Shaking my head, a sudden impending sense of dread washes over me.

A baby.

How can I be responsible for a baby with everything else going on?

The Cartel?

My new businesses?

The people I’m trying to help?

Finding out who is trying to kill me?

I suddenly grasp Faina’s hand.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“I mean it, Faina. The last thing I need is for this to get out.”

“Well, aren’t you going to tell Erik?”

“No.”

“No?”

“He’s—it’s just sex, like I said.” As if he isn’t the sweetest person who’s ever paid attention to me.

“I’m sure he just signed up for some good fucking. Stress relief. Not fatherhood.”

“You didn’t sign up for motherhood either,” Faina points out.

“These things happen.”

“He can’t know. No one can know. If people find out, it will be just another way to look at me like I’m the weakest person in power.”

Faina frowns.

“I hate how true that is.”

I close my eyes and will away the churning dread in my gut.

“Viktor is furious at me, and he got shot for us. A warning, I’m sure. We have until the gala to pay back tens of millions to the Cartel. My new businesses are babies and barely scraping even. This is quite literally the worst time for this to happen.”

“There’s never a good time,” Faina murmurs.

“People just say that to act like their lives are together.”

“Maybe,” I sigh.

“But this doesn’t leave this room, okay?”

“You can’t keep it a secret forever.”

“I just…” My grip tightens on her hand and I briefly close my eyes again.

“Put it out of your mind until after the gala.”

“That’s still two months away.”

“I don’t care.”

“Anastasia, you can’t ignore this.”

“I can and I will.” I force a small smile.

“I know you’re worried.”

“Of course I am,” she replies, her eyes darting over my face.

“I’m here for you. You’re not alone. And if you reached out, then you would have more here with me.”

“I can’t afford to look weaker. I need to put on a strong front until the Cartel are dealt with. Then we can deal with this.”

Faina sighs but nods.

“Alright, so how do we deal with the Cartel? Can we reach out for assistance?”

“No. The Italians closed ranks after the business with Brenden Gifford, and I can’t contact the Irish for more. It’ll become a beacon that I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“I do.” Retracting my hand, I run both my hands down my face.

“We’re all alone in this.”

And worse than that, I’m alone.