Page 145 of Twisted Pact
“I learned from the best.”
He smiles and leaves the office. Katya and I return to the flowers, but my mind keeps drifting to everything that’s changed these past few months.
Dr. Orlov visits later that afternoon for my regular checkup. He sets up his equipment in one of the guest rooms that’s been converted to a temporary medical space until the estate is repaired.
“How are you feeling?” he asks as I settle onto the examination table.
“Tired. And nothing smells or tastes good.”
“All normal for twelve weeks.” He helps me lie back and lifts my shirt to expose my belly. The cold gel makes me flinch.
Alexei slips into the room and takes my hand. He never misses these appointments, even though they are more frequent than any normal woman at my stage of pregnancy.
Dr. Orlov moves the ultrasound wand across my stomach. The baby’s heartbeat fills the room through the monitor, strong and steady.
“Everything looks good,” Dr. Orlov confirms. “Baby is measuring right on track. Heart rate is perfect.”
“And Mila’s blood pressure?” Alexei asks.
“Much improved. Whatever you’re doing to reduce her stress is working.”
I catch Alexei’s eye and smile. Eliminating the threat of imminent death does wonders for stress levels.
Dr. Orlov finishes the exam and helps me sit up. “I want to see you again in two weeks. Sooner if you notice any concerning symptoms.”
“I will.”
He packs up his equipment and leaves us. Alexei pulls me close and rests his chin on top of my head. One hand splays across my belly so tenderly that it brings tears to my eyes.
“Are you nervous?” I ask him.
He chuckles. “Terrified.”
I pull back to look at him. “Really?”
“I have no idea how to be a father, Mila. What if I’m terrible at it?”
“You won’t be.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” I take his face in my hands. “You’re loyal and protective, and you love fiercely. That’s all our baby needs.”
He searches my eyes for a long moment before kissing me. It’s soft, sweet, and full of promise.
“Marry me soon,” he says against my lips.
“How soon?”
“Tomorrow. Before you get too pregnant to walk down the aisle.”
I laugh and swat his chest. “I’m notthatpregnant.”
“You’re perfect.” He slides his hands around my waist. “But I want you to be my wife before our child is born.”
“Then we’ll make it happen.”
The next several weeks run together in a whirlwind of final preparations. Katya helps me find the perfect dress. Papa coordinates with the caterers and the musicians. Mama calls every few days with suggestions and updates.
