Page 46 of Crimson Curse
He considers before answering. “No, not tonight. You and the baby need close monitoring for a little while longer. If your vitals remain steady and the scans tomorrow look good, then in a few days we can talk about discharge.” A small smile ghosts across his mouth. “You will do better here for now, with a team to watch over you and someone to make sure you are not tempted to demonstrate independence too soon.”
Daniil’s jaw tightens. “She will recover better at home, where I can control who is near her.”
Dr. Levin meets his gaze without faltering. “And she will recover safest here, where every monitor and every set of hands are trained for this exact situation. I know what kind of protectionyou can provide, Mr. Zorin, but right now she needs medical oversight more than she needs walls and guards.”
The pause drags, dense as lead between them. Daniil’s hand squeezes mine, and I feel the battle inside him. The instinct to shield me at all costs clashes with the reality that he cannot bend.
At last, he inclines his head, sharp but contained. “Fine. A few days. No longer.”
Dr. Levin nods as if he expected nothing less. “If all goes well, then yes, a few days. We will watch closely, and then she can go home.” He turns to me with gentler eyes. “Rest, Naomi. Let us carry the worry for now.”
When they leave, I release a deep breath. I drink from the plastic cup the nurse left, and every swallow pulls at my side, so I sip slowly and determinedly.
Daniil leans back in the chair. He has not let go of me for more than a few seconds at a time. The skin beneath his eyes is bruised with fatigue, and his hair looks like he has dragged his fingers through it until it gave up. He should look frightening like this, but to me, he looks beautiful.
“What time is it?” I ask.
“Five forty.” He glances at the window. “Morning will be here soon.”
I trace the veins at his wrist with the tip of my finger. “You should rest.”
“I will when you close your eyes,” he says, refusal tucked neatly into the softness.
“Charlotte,” I say suddenly, guilt pricking me like tiny needles. “She will be frantic. I haven’t called her. She doesn’t know.”
“Lex called,” he replies. “He reached her after they took you in for the surgery. She is angry with me in a way that amuses him.” The corner of his mouth lifts, the smallest hint of warmth. “She asked if you were conscious and then threatened me with a kitchen knife if I didn’t keep her updated every hour. She is coming in the morning. I told security to bring her to this room without making her climb even one extra step.”
Relief makes me smile. “She loves me like a sister.”
“I know.” His thumb smooths across my palm. “She earned that word.”
I want to ask about the estate, about what comes next now that Viktor and Lucien are gone, whether the city will settle or ignite again. The questions surge inside me, but a sharp pull of pain steals the breath I would need to voice them.
Daniil sees it and adjusts my pillow carefully. He tucks the blanket gently around my legs. I watch his hands and the tenderness that lives in them when he lets it, and I fall a little more in love with him.
“Tell me about the baby,” he says softly, as if we are in our bed and not here.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” he says simply.
I laugh, and it doesn’t hurt this time. “Right now, our ‘everything’ is the size of a blueberry that thinks it is important enough to change our entire world.”
“It already has.” He glances at my abdomen, reverent and hungry all at once, then looks back at my face. “You will not go back to the museum until I can make that building and that street safer than my own heartbeat.”
I reach for his jaw and feel the rasp of his stubble under my fingers. “I love that you want to turn the whole city inside out to keep us safe. I also love my work. The exhibit matters to me.”
He nods. “Then I will build a fortress around your art.”
It sounds ridiculous and perfect, and I feel tears stinging the back of my eyes again. I’m not usually a crier, but pregnancy has already rewired me.
“Sleep now,” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair back from my face with his knuckles.
I don’t mean to yawn, but my body has other plans. Daniil smiles, that rare, almost shy expression I get to see when no one else is watching. He adjusts the chair until it reclines and moves it close enough that his knee touches the mattress. He threads his fingers through mine and rests his head against the cushion. The light hums, and the beeping keeps time. Weariness wraps around me, and I sink into sleep.
I wake to the soft squeak of rubber soles and the tug of sunlight prying at the blinds. A nurse steps in with a tray and a grin.
“Good morning,” she chirps. “We are going to help you sit up slowly. Small victory lap. Breakfast you will likely hate but will eat anyway. Then Dr. Levin will come dance that ultrasound wand over your belly like a magician.”
