Page 113 of Ruthless Lullaby

“Yeah, but this isn't like scraping a knee, Em. This is huge. I'm going to be a mom.”

“And you'll be amazing at it. So, are you going to tell him?

“I want to. God, I want to run to him right now. But I mustn’t forget about who he is.”

“Come on, sis. You know you love him and this baby.”

“I'm so scared, Em. I left him for a reason. Besides, how is this even possible? I thought I was infertile!”

“Miracles happen, girl. Especially when you least expect them. Just calm down and trust your heart. I’m here for you.”

“I miss you so much, Em. You’d be the best aunt,”

“And I will be. Now, are you ready to make that call?”

“No! Maron's not who I thought he was. And I don’t know what he’ll do to me.”

“We'll figure it out together, okay? Just calm your nerves and listen to your heart. It will tell you everything you need to know. You're stronger than you think you are, Mindy.”

I sniffle and wipe away my tears. My circular thoughts continue to plague my mind and I can’t stop it from happening. Why my brain is doing this all the time is beyond me. It’s always been difficult being in my head but now, after everything that happened recently, it’s almost unbearable. Maybe I should get into meditation or yoga. I’m starting to think that my hyperactive brain is going to be the end of me one day if I don’t do something about it.

I stumble into the changing room and shut the door behind me. I head straight to the couch and collapse onto it, feeling spent and emotionally drained. For a few moments, I just lay there, avoiding looking at myself in the mirror. I already know my makeup is ruined from crying on stage and then all over again from having a "conversation" with Emily.

But eventually, I push myself up and sit down in front of the vanity. As expected, my mascara is smudged and the powderon my face is almost gone from my tears earlier. The only part of my makeup that still looks decent is my lipstick.

As I start fixing myself up before I depart, a sharp knock on the door breaks the stillness.

"Kevin?" I call out. "Just a minute, I'm getting ready."

But Kevin doesn’t respond. Someone else does. It is a deep, commanding voice that sends shivers down my spine. "Open the door."

My heart skips a beat, then starts pounding furiously against my ribcage. The air around me seems to grow thicker, heavier, making it hard to breathe.

Is this…?

I reach for the doorknob with trembling hands, the pounding in my chest becoming deafening. And as I pull open the door, I already know… It’s a scent I recognize all too well. The unique mix of cedar, sandalwood, something primal, and undeniably masculine. The same scent that drove me wild every time it touched my senses. And it’s not any different now. Even before the door is fully open, I can feel the intense response in my body.

I swing the door open, revealing the robust form of the man standing there. The man whose effect on me is something I’ve never experienced before, the man I ran away from.

Maron Korolev.

We stare at each other, and for a moment, time stops. Even if I wanted to speak, I couldn’t because my breath is caught in my throat. It feels as if the ground has suddenly disappearedbeneath my feet. A whirlwind of emotions crashes over me – shock, fear, longing, and an undeniable spark of desire.

His eyes lock onto mine, dark and intense, and I feel tingles running up and down my body, all the way down to my core. I’m pretty sure I’m wet down there already.

But there is more in me than just desire. The atmosphere is crackling with tension. The weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions hang heavy in the air between us. I know he’s not happy that I left him that night. I can see it in his eyes. I wouldn’t be surprised if he saw that as a ‘violation of our contract’.

Is he here to hurt me?

I take an involuntary step back. My hand grips the edge of the dressing table for support. My heart races, thundering so loudly I'm sure he hears it. I’m torn between the part of me that wants to run into his arms and the other one that is screaming at me to flee.

"Maron," I finally manage. My voice comes out weak. "What are you doing here?"

He doesn't answer. He just lets the heavy silence hang above us, looking at me with intent. I take one more precarious step back, but I can’t stop my eyes from devouring him - the stubble on his jawline, the sharp angles of his face, those insanely broad shoulders and chest. He’s dressed casually tonight, only wearing jeans, a white t-shirt, and a leather jacket. My treacherous thoughts drift to the memory of his lips on mine, igniting a flame that blazed through my body at his touch.

Dammit, Mindy!

But my body betrays me again as hot desire begins to pool between my thighs. My rational thoughts are pushed to the wayside, leaving only a throbbing urge and a primal craving in my core. I want him, completely and unapologetically, and I hate myself for it. I hate that my body is making decisions for me, especially when I know I should be cautious.

---