Page 102 of Ivory Oath

“You and Dante can’t leave the mansion.” Anatoly glances over his shoulder to make sure Dante is still focused on the stacks of blocks singing and dancing on the television. He lowers his voice. “We’re in a war.”

I roll my eyes. “Do you think I don’t know that?”

“If you did, you wouldn’t be asking me to take you on a field trip.”

“It’s not a field trip,” I hiss. “I have an appointment.”

He leans against the island and crosses his arms. “An appointment for what?”

“Nothing.”

He snorts. “Okay. I’ll be sure to tell Mikhail all about how I risked your life to take you to your secret appointment for nothing before he disembowels me.”

I arch a brow. “Please don’t tell me you’re scared of Mikhail.”

“Yes. Yes, I absolutely am,” he says with no hint of shame whatsoever. “You’ve met your husband. He’s scary. Especially when it comes to you.”

I sigh. This was a bad idea. To be fair, I didn’t brainstorm very many options before I decided Anatoly was my best one.

Making a rope out of my sheets and rappelling down the side of the mansion was a top contender, but I don’t think I’d have the upper body strength for that on a good day. And today has not been a good day. I’ve thrown up everything I’ve eaten all morning. If I didn’t get nauseous and throw up halfway down the do-it-myself rope, I’d probably pass out from low blood sugar alone.

I feel a little woozy right now, actually.

I grip the edge of the counter and Anatoly tracks my movements. He watches me with a careful intensity I recognize. These Novikov men miss nothing.

“What’s wrong with you, Viv?”

“Nothing is wrong with me. I’m sick. Sometimes, humans get sick. Then those humans need to go see a doctor. It’s fine.”

Anatoly is out of his chair with his phone in his hand in a second. “If you’re sick, I’ll call Mikhail. We’ll get a doctor here and?—”

“No!” I slap his phone away. He fumbles with it in mid-air for a second before he manages to get a grip on it.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You’re acting insane.” Then he leans back, assessing. “And now that you mention it, you look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks.” I cross my arms and mutter, “Hugging a toilet all morning will do that to you.”

“You’re throwing up? Is it a stomach bug?” He waves his arms between us like he’s an air traffic controller.

“Something like that.” I chew on my lower lip. “I’m pregnant.”

Anatoly’s eyes widen. “Again?”

I shrug. “I think. I d-don’t know. I’m having all of the same symptoms I had with Dante.”

Overly emotional? Check.

Nauseous? Check.

Nipples so sensitive I want to scream when a light breeze blows? Double check.

“Then you should still tell Mikhail.” He waves his phone in front of me. “Not telling him shit is how things get complicated.”

“Telling him the news before I’m sure could also complicate things. I don’t want to get his hopes up, Nat. He really wants this.”

Anatoly sags. “I know he does, but that doesn’t mean I can lie to him. He’ll know I’ve taken you through the gates the second we leave. There’s no way to hide it.”

He’s still talking when my phone buzzes. I grab it from the island and almost can’t believe what I’m seeing.

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