Page 28 of Inked Athena

I probably didn’t need the best doctor in Sardinia to administer a simple pregnancy test.

But if there’s a single fucking person on the planet who thought Iwouldn’tget said doctor, they’re out of their goddamn mind.

This is Nova.

This is my child.

I’m not cutting any fucking corners.

That’s why we’re on this yacht in the first place. That’s why, the second my eyes opened this morning, I called Myles and told him to start working on Plan B.

And C.

And D through Z, for good measure.

It’s also why, right this second, I’m staring holes through Dr. Floris, ready if necessary to drill straight into his skull to get the information I want to know. The information I need.

If Nova is pregnant, I need to start making plans fuckingyesterday. Everything has to be accounted for. Every precaution, every defense.

Not one man on this earth will hurt my family.

My phone rings for the third time in five minutes, and I move to silence it. But Nova’s hand slips into mine. “The doctor said it’ll be a bit before the test is ready.” She pushes me gently towards the door. “Take the call.”

“It’s just Myles.”

Probably with an important update about my twenty-five ongoing backup plans. But all of that feels distant for the time being. All I want is the answer to the question that’s been burning inside of me since I found Nova in the bathroom yesterday. Since I threw her birth control overboard and fucked her like I’d never get the chance to do it again.

I need to know if she’s pregnant with my baby.

And if she is, I need to turn the world upside down to keep her safe.

Her hand slips into mine and she squeezes my fingers. “I’ll wait for you. Just take it.”

I bring her knuckles to my lips, pressing a kiss there before I reluctantly slip into the hallway.

“What?” I bark into the phone.

“Who is this?” Myles sounds confused. “This can’t be Samuil. I know that because my best friend, Sam, woke me in the middle of a damn good dream involving several bikini-clad supermodels to start making calls around Europe for him and his on-the-runmistress. AndthatSamuil would be nothing but grateful to me for all of my hard, thankless work.”

“Go annoy someone else if you want a gold star. I’m busy.”

“So was I when you called last night,” he grumbles. “Some of us are seven hours behind. Some of us are tracking sniveling little brothers around the city instead of living it up on a bougie-ass yacht in the Mediterranean. Some of us?—”

“—are wasting my time,” I finish. “If you have something useful to tell me, Myles, spit it out.”

“I thought beach vacations were supposed to be relaxing. You shouldn’t be in such a bad mood.”

I have to bite my tongue to keep the news from spilling out.

The truth is, I couldn’t be in a better mood. For the last twenty-four hours, my head has been swimming with images of what my future could look like. And for the first time since I took over the Litvinov Group, it isn’t spreadsheets and blood feuds filling my head.

It’s images of brown-haired, silver-eyed kids clustered around a breakfast table. It’s the sight of Nova carrying my children, sundresses draping over her growing belly. It’s thoughts of our lives becoming inextricably linked in a way that a signature on divorce proceedings could never undo.

I wasn’t kidding with her earlier. If Nova isn’t pregnant already, then she will be before we step foot off of this yacht.

No matter how many tries it takes.

“Is Nova okay?” Myles prods.

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