Page 52 of Nine Months to Bear
It’s the truth. For so long, getting off was the aim. It didn’t matter who it was; I just wanted the release. But suddenly, there’s no interest.
Except…
Flashes of the dream I had last night come back to me. It’s been days of waking up to thoughts of Olivia, my cock aching, balls blue. The thought of touching anyone else after Olivia feels… wrong. Like settling for tap water after tasting aged whiskey.
“Jesus Christ.” Taras’s eyes widen. “Don’t tell you’re— You’ve got it bad, don’t you? You do. It’s a crush. Stefan fucking Safonov has a schoolboy crush.”
“You’re on dangerous ground, man. I will cut out your tongue and feed it to you.”
“You’rethe one on dangerous ground, my friend,” Taras retorts. “‘The moment you prefer one woman, you’ve created a vulnerability.’” The asshole taps his chin, looking thoughtful, looking smug, looking very punchable. “Any idea who said that?”
I scowl at him, which only makes his grin cockier.
“‘That’s how they get you, Taras.’”
“Stop fucking quoting me,” I snap. “This isn’t a philosophical debate. This is only business.”
“Is it?” Taras raises that insolent eyebrow again. “Then why her, specifically? Why insist on Olivia Aster carrying your child when any surrogate would do?”
I don’t answer, because any surrogatewon’tdo. Olivia is the only choice. And nothing I can say will make sense to Taras—or to myself, for that matter.
That’s why I’ve avoided talking about it with him.
“Speaking of your doctor,” Taras continues with a sigh, his tone shifting to something more serious, “I should review the surrogacy agreement. Make sure everything’s airtight before she gets any ideas about exploiting leverage.”
My silence fills the warehouse, heavy as the iron beams overhead.
When I still don’t say anything, Taras pauses with the third cigarette of the morning paused halfway to his lips. “Hold on. Tell me there’s an agreement. Tell me you at least made her sign the NDAbeforeyou fucked her.”
When I don’t answer, his cigarette falls to the ground, his jaw right behind it. “… You haven’t signed contracts yet?”
“Formalities,” I mutter, even though those “formalities” have been the only way I’ve ever done business.
If there is no guarantee, there is no deal. I don’t fuck around with “maybes.”
Until now.
And Taras knows that.
He lays into me. “What the fuck were you thinking, Stefan? When I fucked that don’s daughter without a condom, youalmost forced me to get snipped! You ranted for damn near days about how stupid I was. And I’m not even apakhan! I don’t have a legacy that’s in jeopardy.”
“Nothing is in jeopardy,” I growl. “Iakov doesn’t have a blood claim to anything. His uncle was a second. He can’t?—”
“If you give him an inch, he’ll take a lightyear. And you’re giving him more than an inch by fucking this doctor. That bitch is going to?—”
In an instant, I have Taras slammed against the wall, forearm crushing his windpipe. The movement is pure instinct, a violence I haven’t directed at him since we were teenagers fighting for scraps in Grozny.
“Don’t talk about her like that.”
My vision is red. My voice is lethal.
I have a traitor lying on the floor behind me who deserves my wrath, but it’s Taras I want to rip to shreds right now.
He knows he’s gone too far. He raises his hands in surrender. But his eyes remain hard.
“This is exactly what your father did, Stefan. I don’t want to say that, I hate saying it, but I have to. You’ve spent your life running from his mistakes, but now, you’re letting a pretty woman cloud your judgment. You’re giving her the chance to destroy you.”
I clench my teeth. The potential for violence strains for one second longer, almost to the breaking point…
