Page 34 of Emerald Malice

Her breath escapes her in a vague, haunted, “No…” Then she lunges forward and snatches the clipboard from my grasp.

But it’s too late.

“Pregnant.” My tongue feels dry, my lips unnaturally chapped. “You’re… pregnant.”

She scoots backwards, clasping the clipboard to her chest. “I… No, that’s not…”

“You’d do well not to lie to me, Natalia.” There’s no mistaking the threat in my voice.

“Fine. Yes, I’m pregnant. But it’s got nothing to do with you.” The sweat beading at her temples says otherwise.

“Is that a fact?”

She backs away, eyeing me warily. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“Then this is the last place you ought to be.”

Judging from the way she bites her cheek and looks around, she agrees with me. “It’s none of your business which doctor I go to. You’re not the father and this doesn’t concern you.”

“Who is?”

“Excuse me?”

“Who is the father?”

Her jaw drops. “Why do you care?”

I advance on her and she retreats, matching me step for step until she collides with the exam table and lets loose a soft, surprised, “Oh!” that brings my cock to attention.

“Because I can smell the lie on you. I believe I already gave you one warning; this is strike two.”

Her chest is rising and falling hard and she’s gone pale since I walked in. “Fine! Fine. We didn’t use protection that night.” She glares at me accusingly. “So yeah, I’m pregnant and… it’s yours.”

I already knew that.

But hearing the confirmation from her sweet, indignant lips makes it all the more real.

Ten minutes ago, I thought my adrenaline was pumping. With the smell of blood and smoke in my nose, the remnant heat of the bomber’s explosion still scorching my skin, I thought that was dragging me into the present moment.

But this…

This is something else altogether. This woman is carrying my child.

I’m going to be a father.

I don’t have to think back to know that she’s three months pregnant; I’ve been painfully aware of each passing day since our last meeting. I’ve thought of her in idle moments and felt my body hum to life at the memory. Even when I’ve quashed those useless thoughts, she crops up again in my dreams. Night after night after merciless fucking night.

“You’re under no obligation to do anything.” She’s talking fast, barely pausing long enough to inhale. “I don’t need you to be involved. In fact, I’d prefer it if you weren’t. I can take care of this baby on my own.”

“Can you?” I ask. “Because from where I’m standing, you don’t seem to be able to take care of yourself, let alone an infant.”

Indignation makes her green eyes pop. “Asshole! That’s not true!’

“Look at where you live.” I take a step towards her. “Look at where you work. Look at where you’ve come for help. How can you expect to take care of a baby?”

The fire fades in her face as she fumbles for words. “I’ll manage.”

I shake my head. “I’m afraid I can’t allow you to roll the dice and hope for the best, lastochka. Not with my child.”

---