Page 125 of Bratva's Vow
After what felt like an eternity of grappling with my defiant stomach, the waves receded. The crippling cramps loosened their sadistic hold just enough for me to uncurl myself from around the toilet bowl.
Drawing on each ounce of strength remaining within me, I flushed the toilet and pushed myself up. The world tilted dangerously around me as I swayed on purely ornamental legs. I shot my hand out for support, slapped it against the cold sink. Above it, a pair of extremely dull eyes stared back at me from the mirror.
The knock came again, more urgent this time. “Wren? Do you need help?” Nik’s voice echoed worriedly through the locked door.
“Almost finished.”
I cleared my throat, rinsed out my mouth with water, then grabbed the mouthwash from the counter and swished it around until the sting of mint drowned out everything else. I spat, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and finger-combed my hair back into place. Fuck. I ended up with a few strands tangled between my fingers.
I stared at them, confused, then shook them off into the sink like it was nothing. A few days of classes and I was already losing hair.
Outside the bathroom, Nik stood with one eyebrow arched and a glass in hand.
“You look like hell,” he said.
I groaned and leaned against the doorframe. “Thanks. Just what every boy dreams of hearing in the morning.”
“Sounded painful in there. Maxim didn’t knock you up, did he? How far along are you?”
I flipped him off so fast it made my head spin. “Shut up.”
“Here, drink this. Pilar heard you getting sick and sent me with a glass of juice for hydration.”
“Thanks. She’s really been so helpful. I can’t remember what my life was like before her.” Cooking my breakfast, doing my laundry, and making beds. I should feel ashamed that whenever she was here, I didn’t even bother to make our bed. She usually changed the sheets anyway.
I drank down the juice in three long swallows, grimacing at the taste. Whatever fruits had gone into it were masked by the salty tang of electrolytes. But as I handed the glass back to Nik, I felt a surprising sense of gratitude.
He held up the glass and pouted. “Didn’t even leave me a drop.”
“You’re not sick, are you?” I thrust my backpack at him and my car keys. “You’ll have to drive.”
“You sure you want to go in today? If you’re not feeling well enough?—”
“I have to go.”
“Why?”
“If I don’t, Maxim will get upset that I am sick, and I don’t want him to be worried. He’s already taking care of so much. I want to give him a break from worrying about me.”
“You’re well enough to go, though?”
I nodded. “Yeah. It’s not a full day of classes, so once I’m finished, I’ll come home and get some rest.”
Nik’s gaze dropped to my waistline. “I see you’re feeling a little risqué today.”
I followed his gaze down. I was wearing loose-fitting jeans slung low on my hips—so low the silver bar of my belly button ring peeked out—and a cropped hoodie. The drawstrings bounced with each breath I took, like they were mocking me.
I pulled at the hoodie self-consciously. “I thought my outfit looked cute. What’s wrong with showing a little skin?”
“Everything when your man is Maxim Morozov.”
I laughed, mostly because I was too tired to argue and a little because he wasn’t wrong. Maxim wouldn’t love these clothes. Scratch that. He wouldn’t love these clothes when I wasn’t wearing them with him. But he didn’t need to know. I would get back home before him today.
I started to push off the doorframe, but the floor shifted slightly under my feet, like the house had tilted a bit to the left.
Nik’s hand came out instantly, gripping my elbow. “Hey, you sure you’re up to this? You look like you’ve been playing around in Maxim’s liquor chest.”
“I’m good. Just moved too fast.” I brushed it off, managed a smile.
