Page 14 of Hers to Control

Instead, it’s just a plastic stick that still has some drops of piss on it.

Then I look up at Mia and feel dizzy. She looks so damn stubborn. After handing me the stick, she walked past me to the living room and is now sitting on the couch, no doubt scheming some way to get away from me. She’s easy enough to read. Which is probably why this damn test result doesn’t come as a surprise. Her guilty, dismayed expression when she first saw me gave her away.

She’s mine now.

I focus on the weight of the knife that is dancing through the fingers of my right hand while I hold the pregnancy test in my left. Somehow, the metal feels lighter than the plastic test.

“So who do you say the father is?” I ask Mia, not for a second believing her flimsy lie, but curious about what she’ll come up with.

The momentary flash of hope in her expression should probably make me feel guilty, but that emotion has long been removed from my mind. It doesn’t work with my lifestyle.

“There was this guy I met at a coffee shop. It must be him since we hooked up right before I ovulated. You were after. So he is the father.” She attempts to look like she’s telling the truth, but the way she keeps her expression perfectly still as if worried that if she moves so much as one muscle, she’ll give herself away, confirms the lie.

I nod. “Sounds logical.” It’s like a game we are playing where both players know the other one is cheating. Too bad for her. That’s the kind of game I’m the best at.

“Right, so you should leave. If the Russians don’t know where I’m at, it’s best you don’t create more trails to me than there already are.”

She really wants me to fuck off. Well, too damn bad.

Instead of saying anything else, I put the test down and pull my cell from my pocket. Hitting Mikhail’s number, I wait for him to answer, while Mia stares me down, obviously annoyed to be ignored. To me, it only seems fair after she was perfectly content to ignore me after she found out she’s carrying my baby.

“Yeah?” Mikhail answers.

I don’t bother with niceties. Never have, and Mikhail is hardly the guy to start that sort of shit with. “Did Mia Samson hook up with anyone in the days or weeks before you messed with her apartment?”

“No. My father had someone on her. Why the fuck do you care?”

I’m not about to answer that, but I have to deal with this situation.

“Doesn’t matter. Tell Gianna I need to speak with her soon.”

I hang up, looking at Mia, who looks paler than she did before I made that call.

“It’s mine.”

She is mine.

That realization doesn’t have the effect it probably should have. Frustration, annoyance, even anger. None of those come. Instead, it’s a weird sense of satisfaction.

I never had a family all of my own. Sure, I had my uncles and Gianna. Uncle Leonardo took me in after my father got shot when I was young. And Gianna and I have always been close, but I was always the nephew or cousin, always part of the family, but also kind of apart.

Gianna has my loyalty, but that didn’t keep her from doubting me. From excluding me while she went after Uncle Leonardo’s killer.

But this baby? It’s all mine, and I’m not about to let Mia take that away from me.

“You don’t need anything to do with this.” She says it like she’s doing me a favor. As if she’s expecting me to jump at the opportunity to piss off and shake my responsibilities.

This woman doesn’t have a damn clue about loyalty to family.

But I do.

My phone rings in my pocket and I pull it out.

“What’s up?” Gianna asks.

“We’ve got a situation, Gianna. I’m with Mia. She’s okay, but we need to move her.”

Mia’s eyes go wide and she starts toward me. I consider holding her away from me, but decide I’m too curious to see what she’s about to do, so I let her take the phone from me.

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