Page 42 of Forced Pregnant Bride

Her name was Maria. Doctor Maria. And I knew this because, for the past five weeks after the announcement of my pregnancy, I’d been visiting her hospital for routine checkups.

The smell of antiseptic lingered in the air as I sat in the small, brightly lit waiting room. The muted sound of a news anchor’s voice played from the TV mounted in the corner. I rested my hands on my lap, admiring the new bracelet Timur had gotten me two nights ago. I smoothed out invisible wrinkles in my dress, pretending I wasn’t completely out of place here.

The yellow on my dress made me smile.

Pchelka.

Timur would have been here if he could. I told myself that over and over, trying to drown out the ache of his absence. An important meeting, he said. A necessity. Still, I couldn’t help but wish he’d been able to push it aside, even just for an hour. On all those days, my husband accompanied me. All those days except today.

Apart from this exception, I’d had unlimited access to Timur Yezhov’s supportive side. It surprised me how concerned he’d been and the lengths he went to convince me that he was serious about the promise he had made: making sure I was on a strict healthy diet, getting enough rest, being happy all the time, and having sex.

Good, great sex.

Snapping out of it, I sprung my head up. Instead of my loving husband—who would rather take a bullet than admit that he cared—Ivan, one of his men, stood by the door, his broad frame a silent reassurance. His face was as expressionless as ever, but I could tell his eyes were scanning the room, watching everyone who came and went. I’d learned not to expectconversation from him. He wasn’t here for me; he was here on Timur’s orders. A job, nothing more.

“Serena Yezhov?” The nurse’s voice jolted me from my thoughts.

Yezhov.

When had it dawned on me that I no longer answered to Skye as my last name? It didn’t matter; I was adjusting pretty fast.

I stood quickly, brushing my palms against my dress before following her into the corridor. Ivan moved with me, shadowing my every step.

“It’s just a routine checkup,” I said over my shoulder, though I wasn’t sure why I bothered. Ivan didn’t respond; he just kept walking a few paces behind.

The nurse led me into an examination room, gesturing for me to take a seat on the table. “Your doctor will be with you shortly,” she said before disappearing through the door.

The silence in the room felt heavier without the background noise of the waiting area. Ivan stationed himself by the door, his arms crossed and eyes fixed on some indeterminate point on the wall.

I stared at the stark white walls, counting the seconds until Doctor Maria arrived. The longer I waited, the more my thoughts wandered. Was Timur thinking about me right now? Would he call when his business for the day was over?

The door creaked open, and Maria walked in, gray eyes twinkling, a warm smile on her face. “Good afternoon, Serena. How are you feeling today?”

“I’m fine,” I replied, though the words felt automatic, detached.

“Your husband didn’t accompany you today?”

Wouldn’t you have loved to have him here?

I took my eyes to the ceiling. “No, he didn’t.”

She nodded, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Let’s see how everything looks.”

As she began the examination, I focused on the rhythmic beeping of the monitor, letting it lull me into a state of calm. The moment felt surreal, like I was drifting through someone else’s life.

Everything checked out as expected, just like I knew it would. Still, I couldn’t shake the strange sense of unease as I left the examination room, Ivan falling into step beside me.

I glanced up at him as we walked toward the exit. “Did Timur say when he’d be done with his meeting?”

After he promised to protect me and our child, getting me a phone was the first thing he did. But I could only call him at certain hours for personal or domestic reasons. Never to talk about his work.

This hour was not one of those hours, and even if I called, he wouldn’t answer—not immediately, anyway. So, Ivan was my only hope of knowing how long I had to wait before I saw my husband again.

Ivan didn’t look at me, his voice as flat as ever. “He’ll call when he’s free.”

I nodded, wrapping my arms around myself as we stepped out into the cool afternoon air. For now, that would have to be enough.

I adjusted the strap of my bag and glanced toward the car where Ivan had hurriedly strode over to wait. Behind his tinted sunglasses, his expression was unreadable. I was about to start walking toward him when something—or rather, someone—caught my eye.

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