Page 23 of Immaculate Deception (Romanoff Bratva)

But I can’t.

That goddamn angel on my shoulder is chiming in again. I ought to strangle the motherfucker.

I can’t leave her as a single parent without offering my help. Not now that I know the truth.

After all, that boy is my blood. My family.

My heir.

I have to protect them both.

* * *

The Hospital

I park in the hospital lot and go inside. I’m on guard the whole time, waiting to overpower anyone who tries to stop me.

The nurses from before have probably put the pieces together and realized that I am not in fact Arya’s boyfriend. But if they think they’re going to stop me from getting to my son, they’d better think again.

I don’t run into a single problem, though.

Or, for that matter, a single living soul.

Not until I get the labor and delivery ward. A nervous nurse standing at the door takes one look at me and opens her mouth to speak. I’m expecting her to say,“What the hell are you doing here?”or“Why did you leave?”

Instead, she whispers, “I’m sorry.”

That gives me pause.What the fuck?

She lowers her eyes as if she’s afraid to look at me. I’m used to that from people who know what I’ve done. What I do. But this woman doesn’t know me from Adam.

I frown, ready to storm past her. But something about her demeanor stops me. “Why are you sorry?” I demand.

The woman jumps at my harsh tone and then brushes her long ponytail over her shoulder anxiously. “I don’t know. I just… I don’t want any trouble, okay?”

My frown deepens. “What the fuck’s going on?”

“Your boss is inside,” she says, uncertainty in her voice. “They’re in Room Twelve. I told the other nurses to stay away, just like he asked. I’m just trying to do what I’m told. I don’t want anyone to get hurt. I’m sorry.”

My boss?I don’t have a boss. Iamthe boss.

Or at least, I was. But that’s a problem for later. Right now, I’m focused on the other shit she said.

Room Twelve.That’s Arya’s room.

I spin around and corner the nurse against the wall. She’s already frightened, but I want to make one thing clear—whoever she’s scared of now, I’m much, much worse.

“What does ‘my boss’ look like?” I enunciate slowly, threat lingering on the edge of my voice.

Now, the pitiful nurse is looking like she’s about to faint. She’s pressed against the wall, trembling.

“Use your fucking words,” I order.

She nods, swallows, steels herself. “Big guy. Bald. Scary eyes. He had a scar on the back of his head.”

God fucking dammit.I should have guessed.

Fyodor has been Zotov’s lapdog since they both were initiated into the Bratva. And now that Zotov has rebelled, Fyodor is apparently more than willing to be Zotov’spatsan, his lieutenant, running errands for him and conducting special missions.

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