Page 16

16

ANASTASIA

E verything feels different when I return home from the hospital.

I can’t tell if it’s because of the argument with Viktor or the fact that I now know I’m carrying a baby.

Despite my best efforts to put it out of my mind, something like that is hard to forget.

Faina promises to keep my pregnancy a secret and I have no choice but to trust her.

She’s given me no cause to ever doubt her, but there’s a constant irritating thought in the back of my mind that somehow, people will find out just by looking at me.

The night I return, Viktor avoids me.

I don’t expect him to apologize.

He’s too proud for something like that and I’m too exhausted to follow it up.

Logically, I know I should since his display in front of all those guards puts me in a weaker light than I was before.

I can’t have people yelling in my face and talking down all my hard work.

That plus fainting in front of them definitely makes me look like I’m losing my marbles, and I need to get control of everything quickly.

I let Faina tell people my iron was low due to sickness, not stress.

At least this way, most people believe that it was an outside reason as to why I collapsed.

I double down on the construction plans and have two very loud phone calls with the newest company I’ve acquired to make sure anyone deciding to listen in gets the full picture.

Money will be flooding in in no time.

I learned from my father that sometimes you want people to overhear things.

No one spreads info faster than the gossip in your own organization.

Since Viktor won’t apologize, I send him to a meeting with the Irish.

It’s just a brief discussion about their construction plans, but given Viktor’s injury and his apparent dislike for our new direction, putting him right in the middle of it brings me a small note of enjoyment.

And then there’s Erik.

Sending him away from the hospital was partly because I didn’t trust Viktor alone for too long.

I didn’t want to get home and discover he’d changed the locks.

But since learning I’m carrying his baby, things are different.

It’s either my new hyper-awareness of my actions, or he’s able to tell that something is wrong because in the week following my hospital visit, he’s more attentive than usual.

He cooks me dinner and fills me in on every little detail he overhears.

When he learns that I collapsed due to stress and overworking, he suddenly goes into overdrive with taking care of me.

Cups of tea just spawn when he’s around.

He’s on top of phone calls and three steps ahead of me with security plans when it comes to travel.

He kits out the limos with fresh fruit and food while making sure I take regular breaks to eat and rest.

He even threatens to carry me upstairs if I don’t stop working at a decent time just to get me to stop working.

I don’t doubt that he’ll do exactly that if I don’t pause, so I’m always willing.

The more time he spends with me as my shadow, the more I notice about him.

He’s gorgeous, that’s never been a problem, but lately, it feels like I can’t look away.

I want to keep staring at him like he’s some kind of work of art out for display.

Every time he talks, I find questions to keep him talking just so I can listen to the thrum of his voice.

He’s explained the new security plan for the gala to me at least a few times and I’m constantly tempted to ask again just to hear his lengthy explanation.

My heart skips a beat when the doors open and it’s not him.

When my phone buzzes with an alert, I find myself looking for his name among the messages.

This is more than a crush.

It shouldn’t be.

It should just be fun.

But it’s more than that.

And now I’m carrying his baby.

What kind of future am I setting up for myself?

I don’t even know if I want to keep the baby.

It hardly fits into my plans for the family, and everyone will look at me differently the moment I become a mother.

Not only will it be a beacon to my womanhood, but I’ll literally be birthing my weakness into the world, bringing in a child who will forever be a target simply because of who I am.

Thinking it over while tucked under blankets in the conservatory, surrounded by papers, I wonder if my mother had the same thoughts about me.

My father forever blamed me for her death in childbirth, so I have no way of knowing whether she was excited to have me or if she dreaded it.

From the way my father treated me, he definitely didn’t seem happy about my existence, but still, I tried to earn his approval.

He was the only parent I had, the only source of that kind of love.

I was denied.

Did my mother stare out of these windows and gaze across the same garden picturing what it would be like to see me playing among the flowers?

Or did she hold the same uncertainty that exists in my heart when thinking about the life that I would have?

Pain tightens deep in my chest.

How can I miss someone I never met?

My mother is just a story.

I know more about my tutor than I know about her, and I’ll never get my answers.

But still, I wonder.

The pen between my fingers lowers down to the paper and then nearly falls as it slips from my lax fingers.

Luckily, it doesn’t roll too far away as it’s stopped suddenly by another hand and a shadow falls over me.

“Anastasia?”

Erik’s warm voice fills my ears and pulls me back from my distraction in the garden.

I blink quickly and glance up at him.

His handsome face warms with a smile and he holds out a steaming mug.

“Tea,” he says.

“You need it.”

“Thank you.” Accepting the cup, I warm my hands against the porcelain and sip the tea while staring up at him.

“Erik?”

“Yes?” He tucks my pen into the crease of a nearby binder.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Oh. I thought it would be safe here so it doesn’t roll away again.”

“Not that,” I scoff gently.

“Why are you doing so much for me? This past week, you’ve been non-stop with cooking and cleaning, bringing me tea, and making sure I rest while never being late with my medication.” I squint up at him as the warmth of the tea spreads through my body.

“Why?”

His brows raise and he drags one hand through his hair.

Several strands slip forward and dance along his forehead when he shrugs.

“It’s my job.”

“Your job is to make sure I don’t die,” I correct.

“Not to make sure I’m getting my five a day.”

“Only you would see it so black and white.” Erik chuckles.

“It’s my job to take care of you, Anastasia. That doesn’t just mean stopping people from trying to harm you. It means I take care of you in the ways you need so you’re at your best for the things you need to do. That’s my job. Sometimes, I have to protect you from yourself.”

“Do you think I’m a danger to myself?” I sip my tea once more.

Erik moves around me, gathering the papers and clearing himself a space to sit next to me.

As he lowers down, he sighs deeply and my eyes drift to the buttons straining over his muscular chest.

One large inhale and they would surely pop free.

I swallow hard.

“Yes,” Erik says.

“Unintentionally, though. Which I think is fine because the stress of what you have to do on top of keeping literally hundreds of people happy is kind of insane. I know that…” He pauses, and his brow wrinkles.

“Viktor said some pretty terrible stuff last week.”

I roll my eyes.

“He’s stuck in the past.”

“I agree,” he says.

“But he’s also passionate. I’m not excusing him at all, I just mean that with that kind of pressure from the ones who are on your side, to launching new business ventures, keeping people safe, rescuing the ones we’ve harmed, all while the Cartel breathes down our necks… It's a lot for one person. Kind of makes sense why your father had eight generals to help.”

“Is that what I’m missing?” I snort softly. “I need to find myself some generals.”

“It’s up to you, really. But it’s why I’m here to protect you from yourself because while you’re dealing with all of that, you’re not kind to yourself. I’ve seen you go almost all day without eating. You sleep maybe three hours a night. And sure, you are the boss.”

“So what changed?” I stare at him over the lip of my cup. “I’m still the boss.”

“True. I just adjusted my job perspective.” Erik’s smile widens. “You can’t pay me if you end up dead from your own actions, so I’m going to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. And I always will be.”

There’s something incredibly meaningful in the way he says that. I’m under no illusions that Erik sees this as any more than a job with some sexy benefits, but if I squint, I can pretend that his words come from a place of real affection.

“What if I fire you?”

“You’d miss me too much,” he replies immediately. “No one makes your tea the way you like it except me. Not even Faina. You really want to fire that?”

He waggles his brows and finally pulls a small laugh from me. “Alright, fair point.”

“Plus, I like taking care of you,” Erik says, leaning forward to adjust some of the papers on the table before us. “It’s nice.”

I study the sharp angles of his face, which soften in the sunlight streaming in through the windows. His eyes sparkle, and when he glances at me, his smile widens a fraction.

My heart skips another beat and a bubble of giddiness flutters under my ribs.

Then I make a move.

When he leans back into the seat, I curl my fingers into the silk creases of his shirt and kiss him.