Page 31 of Claimed By Desire

“Go home, get some sleep, and get married in the morning,” he says.

And just like that, I’m alone again.

Alone like in Paris, alone like in that dress shop.

Alone in Alex’s apartment, alone with the truth about this baby.

“How?” I ask him.

“You just do it. You know what will happen if anyone finds out about this? You know the consequences?”

“I know,” I tell him because I’ve thought it through a thousand times already.

“You don’t.” His voice is hard. It’s harsh, almost angry. “It would be a war, Natalya. The Italians would take this as the ultimate insult. They’d kill me, and they’d try to kill your brother and your father. They might even try to kill you. If they find out that baby isn’t your husband’s, people will die.”

I open my mouth to argue?—

But I know he’s right.

These people, they only know family, honor, and violence. This baby will ruin everything, ruin the alliance my father’s building, and it’ll tear the city apart.

People will die if anyone finds out.

Not just people in my family—but Zeitsev soldiers and Italians too.

Men that have nothing to do with my stupid mistakes will lose their lives because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

“You want me to bury it,” I say, feeling so empty.

“You have to bury it,” he agrees. His face is pale and his hands tremble as he clenches them into fists. “We forget we ever had this conversation.”

“But Alex?—“

“Please,” he says and that word tells me everything. It sounds like he’s in agony, but he made up his mind and there’s no changing it. “This is the only way you can have a life now, Natalya. This is the only way you can be safe.

We bury it, and I bury myself too.

I turn away from him. I can’t bear to look at him anymore. I know he’s right, and that’s the worst part.

But if he had wanted to run away?—

Well, it doesn’t matter anymore.

I walk away, numb, floating, and leave the pregnancy test behind.

Chapter 12

Natalya

Waves of white tulle and lace spread out around my hips as I sit in front of a mirror cross-legged on the floor.

I look like I’m lost in the dress. At least the puke stain is gone. I touch my straight blond hair, touch my plain face, and touch the mirror, trying to ground myself. Nothing works. It’s like I’m sinking down into the floor, spiraling faster and faster and faster, and the only thing that slows me down is putting a hand over my stomach.

Over my unborn child.

It’s my wedding day. In two hours, I’m going to walk down a makeshift aisle in one of the oldest Catholic churches in America, and I’m going to pledge my life to a man I barely know.

All while carrying a secret so heavy I’m afraid it might crush me.

---