Page 2 of Til Death Do Us Part (Kornilov Bratva Duet 2)

“Would it have made a difference?” The question isn’t meant to be biting, but I feel the sting of it regardless. Hannah helped me after Theo was born. She was most of the reason we made it through the first year at all, and in her time of need, I let her deal with everything on her own.

“Maybe not before, but it would have now. I have help, Han.” The words are out of my mouth before I can really consider their meaning.

“What does that mean?” she asks. “Is your sugar daddy a pimp or something? Why would he do anything to help me?”

“Ew. No. I’m not a prostitute. Viktor just … values me,” I say, wincing at the words. Loves me certainly isn’t right, but values me makes it sound like I’m a prized hog. Both options suck. “If I tell him my friend needs help, he might help.”

I don’t know if any of this is true. I never would have guessed Viktor would trap me in a bedroom rather than let me leave his apartment, so clearly I don’t have a full grasp of what he will and won’t do. But I can’t sit by and let Hannah suffer. Not when there is something I could do to help.

“I’ll talk to him,” I say. “Give me some time, and I’ll ask him.”

Hannah is in the middle of thanking me when her phone really does drop the call. And not a moment too soon, either. The second the phone beeps in my ear, telling me we’ve been disconnected, my stomach roils.

I sit up and press a palm to my belly, trying to understand the feeling, but a second later I know exactly what is happening.

I jump out of bed, wrench open the bathroom door, and barely make it to the toilet before my lunch comes pouring out into the bowl. I heave until there is nothing left and then fall back against the wall.

Immediately, I feel better. Though, I wish I didn’t. If I still felt terrible, there could be a possibility I was sick. That maybe I’d contracted food poisoning or caught the stomach flu. But I feel amazing.

I curse under my breath and close my eyes.

Viktor and I haven’t had sex since he locked me in my bedroom. There were a few times where things got close. The day he moved me into the penthouse, he refused to let his men do all the work and pitched in himself. He carried boxes up the stairs and inside, and when he started getting hot, he took off his sweater and finished the job in a tight white undershirt. The way it clung to his muscled chest was obscene, and when the house was empty save for the two of us, I nearly forgave him just so I could run my fingers across his abs. Just so I could feel his warm, hard body pressed against mine.

Somehow, I resisted. I went to bed with a bundle of pent-up energy inside of me, and I spent it all imagining the things he would have done to me. The way he would have made me feel if I’d let him.

But you can’t get pregnant from your own hand.

I curse again. If I am pregnant, it means I’m far along. Almost eight weeks, at least.

My periods haven’t been regular since I had Theo. I skip months all the time, so that isn’t a sure sign of pregnancy. Nausea and vomiting, though? Check.

I palm my chest and wince. Sensitive breasts? Check.

I bang my head back against the wall and squeeze my eyes shut. What am I going to do?

I allow myself sixty seconds of wallowing before I push to my feet, brush my teeth, and grab my purse. The nanny gives me a silent wave from the couch where she is reading a romance novel from the large collection she keeps in her purse. Theo is sleeping, but if he wakes up, she’ll be here to take care of him. I walk through the small kitchen and to the front door. The guards downstairs follow me wordlessly out of the apartment, into the lobby, and then down the street. Screaming at them to leave me the fuck alone doesn’t work—I know that because I’ve already tried. Besides, I’m slightly grateful for their presence today. Focused as I am on the possible baby growing in my uterus, I’m not as aware of my surroundings as I could be. If Fedor is ever going to attack me, today would be a good day to do it.

The shop on the corner has everything, including a cat who lies on top of the warm coffee maker and hisses when customers get too close. I’m in and out of the store within a minute, six pregnancy tests in hand.

If the guards know what is hidden away in my plastic bag, they don’t say anything.

When I get back into the apartment, the guards take up their posts once again near the front door, and I run up the stairs and back into the bathroom.

Each of the tests is different, so they all have different instructions, but I’m not patient enough to read right now. As long as my pee gets on the stick, I’m doing enough things right to get the answers I’m looking for. So, I tear a pink package open with my teeth, yank my pants down, and pee on the stick for five seconds, though it feels like an eternity.

As I pace the bathroom and wait, I flash back to being eighteen years old in a convenience store bathroom, throwing up in the disgusting toilet while I waited for the pregnancy test to tell me what I already knew.

This time is different, however. Not only am I in an immaculate, spacious bathroom that is nicer than any house I’ve ever lived in, but I wanted this sex. Regardless of how I feel about Viktor in this very second, the last time I had sex with him was incredible. It was hot and full of passion. Most importantly, I remember every pulsing, aching second of it.

This baby is wanted.

Fear clenches my heart, making it difficult to breathe, but the truth remains. If I really am pregnant, I want this baby.

When I found out I was pregnant with Theo, I didn’t want him. I knew I couldn’t get rid of him, but I wasn’t happy. The warm glow of love didn’t wash over me when I realized I had life growing in my belly. I felt used and hollowed out and raw. I’d been raped, and my life was veering off course and there was nothing I could do.

Of course, Theo is my everything now. He is my reason for living and breathing and fighting, but I didn’t know that at the time.

Now, knowing how much I love Theo, I know how much I would love this baby, too. That is what scares me. Caring for another person that much when life is so insane and dangerous. I spend half of my time studying for my interior design class, the other half caring for Theo, and during all of that, I’m worried sick for Theo’s safety. There isn’t a second of my day where I get a reprieve from worrying about him. From wondering when Fedor will strike next.

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