Page 101 of The Russian Retribution

His lips gently press against mine and my heart soars.

Life is not so dark, after all.

39

ANASTASIA

“Now, if you turn your attention to slide four, I think you’ll all agree that the swimming pools need a little moreoomph. We’re selling to the elite here. We want them to brag about how luxurious their pool is, plaster it all over their socials, spend their entire time in the water until they look like raisins. The more shriveled they get, the better we look and then the more we can—ahh!”

Everyone around the table jumps in alarm as I double over, slamming one fist down on the table as white-hot pain lances through my abdomen.

“Anastasia?” Erik appears at my side and places his hand on the small of back, though I shove him off immediately.

“I’m fine.”

“Your contractions are getting closer together. You’re not fine.”

“Let me get through this,” I hiss through gritted teeth, unsure whether I’m speaking to Erik or the baby inside me who’s desperate to make an appearance. As the wave of agony passes, I straighten up and puff out my cheeks. “Anyway, where was I?”

“Swimming pools.” Someone to my left speaks up cautiously. “You want obnoxious luxury?”

“Exactly. I want it so that they can’t afford it because then who do they go to for money? Tatiana. Do you all see what I mean? These designs are good but I need sickening—ahh!”

“That’s it.” Erik slams the laptop closed and grabs my arm as I pant and yell against the table. “We’re taking you to the hospital.”

“Not yet!” I gasp, but I have no strength to fight him.

As the contraction passes and I straighten up, Erik’s brow is pinched with worry. “I know you’re scared,” he says, cupping my sweaty neck. “But you’re going to be amazing and I’m going to be right there with you.”

I labor for sixteen hours.

Despite their painful insistence, my baby seems less inclined to leave when I reach the hospital. Erik stays by my side through every second. I crush his fingers in my grip, yell obscenities at him when he makes suggestions, groan under the soothing touch of his massaging hands, and eat my body weight in ice chips.

Still, our baby doesn’t move.

Pain after pain, hour after hour, time drags by slowly and with each painful, stabbing muscle ache, my doubts about being a good mother fade from my mind. In the days leading up to my due date, I feared I would repeat my father’s mistakes, that some part of me would be terrible because it’s in my blood, and I even asked Erik to take our baby away from me.

Luckily, he just laughed and assured me that he knew I would be a fantastic mother because I take care of everyone.

Now, with pain radiating like a hot whip around my abdomen, I make a hundred prayers to be the best mother in the universe if this baby would just get out of me.

Hours pass, pain worsens, and I nearly dislocate one of Erik’s fingers before, finally, my baby makes an appearance.

“Fuck!” I scream loudly, tossing my head back and forth as every muscle below my waist feels like it’s being shredded in two. Erik is beside me, holding my hand and trying to keep my hair out of my face while a doctor rummages about between my legs.

“You’re almost there,” she cheers. “One more push, Mama. One more push!”

“I can’t,” I gasp as all strength leaves me. “I can’t, I can’t!”

“You can.” Erik catches my eyes. “I’m right here. You can do it. One more push, baby. One more. Think of everything it took to get to this moment, how close we got to missing out entirely. All that anger, all that rage. Use that.”

I’d rather not think of Viktor at a time like this, but surprisingly, it works. The thought of him ignites one last ember of strength inside me and I grip Erik’s fingers, then roar out my pain as I push and push and push.

My baby is born in a hot, slippery rush that feels like rug burn, and I sag on the bed like an empty paper bag. Erik praises me constantly, peppering kisses over my forehead and holding me close.

A second later, a rough cry erupts in the room and tears spring into my exhausted eyes. My heart swells with love as I peer past my raised legs, seeking a glimpse of my baby.

“It’s a girl.” The doctor grins, bundling up the screaming infant in a blanket. “You’ve got a beautiful baby daughter.”

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