Page 50 of The Russian's Forced Bride
I waved it off. “Probably food poisoning. I’m not a fan of garlic anyway.”
Brandon shook his head, adamant. “Your husband might not care about your well-being, but I do. I didn’t want to point it out earlier, Ari, but for a week now, you’ve been looking like death itself.” He squeezed my shoulders. “Let me take you to a hospital…please.”
I nodded meekly, leaning my weight against Brandon immediately after he took his hands off my shoulders. He guided me to his truck, which had been parked in the parking lot, and once he had settled me gently in the passenger seat, he revved his engine to life and drove us off to the hospital.
***
“Congratulations, Mrs. Kamarov. You’re pregnant.”
The doctor’s words bounced off me as I peered at her in shock, unable to comprehend the words she had just spoken.
After Brandon had driven me to the hospital, I was taken to run some tests and called back in moments later, but to my surprise, the results of the tests claimed I was pregnant…. I shook my head, staring blankly at the middle-aged doctor, with streaks of grey tainting her dark hair, probably from years of stress.
“You’re not happy?” she asked, slipping the test results into an envelope and sliding it over to me across her desk.
“No, I…I am,” I admitted.
It wasn’t that I wasn’t elated at the news, but it felt so sudden. It had barely been two months since Rafael and I got married, and now I was pregnant with his baby. It kind of explained all the symptoms I had been experiencing, as well as my period cycles, which I had missed. And honestly, deep down, I had been suspicious, but I didn’t want to think it through. I was afraid of what being pregnant meant.
What if Rafael didn’t want the baby?
And what if our baby grew up into his whole Bratva lifestyle?
“Thanks. I…uh, I’m really happy about this.” I cradled my belly, looking down, though no bump had formed yet. Maybe if Rafael knew he had a child, he’d be more present.
I breathed out a sigh of relief, taking to my feet, and after thanking the doctor once more, I walked out of the room and headed to the waiting room, where Brandon was seated, his head buried in his hands and his feet tapping impatiently against the tiled floor.
His head snapped up at the sound of my feet shuffling against the ground, and he immediately shot up, his hands outstretched to hug me as I neared him and wrapped my arms around him. I didn’t realize I was sniffling back tears until Brandon began to rub my back soothingly, whispering into my ear that I was alright.
And then my tears turned into laughter, surprising him once we dislodged from the hug.
“I’m pregnant,” I exclaimed.
Brandon’s eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of something foreign flashing through his eyes. I interpreted it as him being mind-boggled at the revelation.
He cupped my cheeks, his face lighting up in sheer happiness. “I’m going to be an uncle,” he said.
I nodded, glad that he was just as excited as I was.
“Don’t worry, sis,” Brandon reassured me, his eyes firm. “I’ll always be by your side. I promise.”
I laughed nervously as a sudden unease filled me now that I realized the reality of my situation.
If Joaquin knew I was pregnant, I’d be fucked. But there was no way he’d know. And besides, Rafael promised he’d take care of him.
Yeah. I had nothing to worry about.
***
Later, Brandon dropped me off at home, saying I needed to rest. He promised to miss classes just to come check in on me every day and, in his words, play the role of my husband since said husband was a douchebag. His comment had made me laugh, but now, seated on the sofa of our living room while the house creaked with hollowness at its depths, I couldn’t help but feel alone.
It was always just sex and lust with Rafael. And I was scared he’d leave me for good if I ever complained that I wanted more than that with him. My body craved him just as much as my mind, but as intimately as I thought I knew him, there were a lot of things I didn’t know.
I curled up my knees on the sofa and felt my body sink into its soft fur.
A new type of fear was creeping into my heart. It wasn’t just the fear that there was someone out to kill me or paranoia that I was constantly being watched. This fear had lodged itself deep into my head and my soul.
It was the fear that Rafael saw me as nothing more than an object of release. The fear that I truly didn’t mean anything to him. I hated him as much as I craved him, and I wasn’t foolish enough to call my feelings for him love.
