Page 57 of Imperfect Desires

I stagger toward the sink, gripping the counter as nausea crawls up my throat.

“What the hell am I going to do?”

Viktor will kill him. And me too. I know it because I’ve seen the hard, cold glint in Viktor’s eyes whenever Lev’s name comes up. My brother will surely start hunting him now. Not to force him to marry me, but to kill him.

If Viktor finds out Lev left me like this—if he finds out Lev put a child inside me—there won’t be a negotiation.

I clutch the edge of the sink, forcing down the surge of panic spiralling through my chest. I can’t tell Viktor. I can’t tell Lev. Yet I can’t keep it a secret. Not when I am preparing to meet a potential suitor in one week.

My hand goes to my stomach as I slide down the bathroom wall, knees pulled to my chest, the test still clenched in my hand. Tears burn beneath my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Tears are useless at this point.

I take the test and wrap it in tissues before shoving it into the bottom of my trash can. My hands linger on the edge of the counter.

How the hell am I going to come out of this?

I’ve been standing outside Viktor’s office for more than five minutes, but my feet refuse to move.

My heart slams against my ribcage, the sound loud in my ears. My palms are clammy, and my throat feels dry. The hallway is dimly lit, the heavy oak door looming in front of me like a wall I’m not sure I can break through.

I should turn around. Walk away. Pretend this isn’t happening.

But the weight in my stomach—the impossible truth that I’ve been carrying for two days—won’t let me.

My hand hovers over the brass doorknob. A trembling breath leaves my chest as I finally grip the cold metal and push the door open.

Viktor is seated behind his desk, his head bent over a stack of documents. The sharp lines of his suit cut against the dark leather chair. He doesn’t look up immediately—his focus is trained on the papers in front of him, his pen scratching against the surface with steady precision.

I step inside and close the door behind me. My heels barely make a sound against the hardwood floor.

Viktor’s gaze flicks up. His dark eyes narrow slightly when he sees me. “Alina.” His voice is calm but cool and detached. The usual warmth that always marked our conversation is no longer there. “Is something wrong?”

Yes! Everything.

I move toward his desk, my hands trembling at my sides. My throat works painfully as I struggle to find my voice.

“I need to talk to you.”

Viktor sets his pen down and leans back in his chair. His gaze sharpens on me, the cool steel in his eyes cutting through me. “Go on.”

I swallow hard. My heart pounds painfully. My hand slips toward my stomach almost unconsciously before I catch myself and drop it.

“I’m…” My voice catches. I force myself to breathe through it. “I’m pregnant.”

The words fall into the room like a gunshot.

Viktor’s expression doesn’t change at first. He just stares at me.

My chest tightens. My fingers curl into fists at my sides.

“Say that again,” Viktor says quietly.

“I’m pregnant.”

His gaze sharpens. His knuckles tighten over the armrests of his chair. The steady rise and fall of his chest slows, and the quiet sound of his breath becomes dangerously controlled.

Silence stretches out between us.

“How?” Viktor’s voice is cold, biting.

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