Page 74 of Ruthless Daddies

I lean against the counter, gripping the edge so tightly my knuckles turn white. My periods have never been perfectly regular, but they’ve never been this unpredictable either. And now that I think about it, I haven’t had one since…

Oh God.

My chest tightens as realization sets in. The signs have been there—fatigue, mood swings, cravings—but I brushed them off as stress.

Could I really be pregnant?

I press a hand to my stomach, my fingers trembling. There’s no way to know for sure without taking a test, but the timing makes sense. Too much sense.

And if I am…

The thought trails off, replaced by an even heavier one:Who’s the father?

Whose child would it be?

I can’t even begin to imagine how they’ll react. One thing is clear—I need to find out the truth.

And whatever happens after that…I’ll deal with it. Somehow.

28

NIKOLAI

Something’s off with Dmitri.

I’ve seen him distracted before—usually with women or his own schemes—but this? This is different. He’s been pacing, shutting himself in his office, and brushing off conversations with vague grunts and noncommittal answers. It’s driving me insane.

Which is why I find myself standing in the doorway of his office, arms crossed, watching him type something furiously into his laptop. He doesn’t even look up, which only fuels my suspicions.

“Dmitri,” I say, stepping inside and shutting the door behind me.

“Mm,” he responds, not bothering to glance up.

I lean against the edge of his desk, tilting my head. “So…anything you want to share?”

He finally looks up, one eyebrow raised. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I say, waving a hand vaguely. “You’ve been acting weird lately. Skulking around, avoiding people. You know, classic signs of someone hiding something.”

He smirks, leaning back in his chair. “You’re adorable when you try to be subtle.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m being serious, Dmitri. You’ve been acting fishy. Suspicious. Cagey. Secretive.”

One of his eyebrows goes up. “Did you raid a thesaurus before coming in here?”

“Don’t dodge the question,” I say, pointing a finger at him. “I know you. You’ve got that look—the one that says you’re either planning something or hiding something. Spill it.”

He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head like he’s perfectly at ease. “You don’t have to dance around it, you know. Just say what you mean.”

“Fine.” I fold my arms across my chest, lowering my voice for dramatic effect. “What the hell are you hiding?”

Dmitri sighs, sitting up straight and rubbing the back of his neck. “You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

---