Page 32 of Shattered Cradle (Makarova Bratva Duet)

“Are you having morning sickness?”

“Sometimes,” she admits. “It comes and goes. I think my nausea has more to do with that stupid building than anything else. I hate heights.”

I don’t think the height is the part of that building causing her discomfort, but I don’t press back on the lie. The farther we get from the hotel, the more she seems to relax.

“Where do you want to go?”

“You’re asking me?”

“I don’t see any other passengers,” I drawl.

Olivia cocks her head to the side and squints in thought, like it had never occurred to her before to have an opinion.

“Take me to the moon,” she announces finally.

I chuckle. “It’ll take me longer than an afternoon to organize a trip like that. But if you want it, it’s yours.”

She shudders. “Somehow, I think you actually mean it. You know what? I think I’d just like to drive for now. I want to see the city pass by.”

“Alright then,” I say. I take a turn to steer us away from the city onto lonelier roads.

She keeps her gaze fixed out her window, but her hands are a tight knot in her lap. Every so often, she glances towards me like she’s surprised that I’m here at all.

“Have you painted the walls in my room?” she asks suddenly.

“No. I decided to leave them.”

“Really?”

“Is that surprising?”

“They weren’t exactly flattering.”

I grin. “Art is supposed to draw a reaction, isn’t it? I’d say you did that in spades.”

“I guess,” she mumbles, though her cheeks flush with subtle pride.

“Have you been drawing?”

She stiffens. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Not exactly inspired at the moment,” she mutters. “I’ve lost my muse, I guess.”

“Interesting. You drew constantly when you were with me.”

“Yeah, well, don’t read too much into it.”

“Too late.”

She sighs, but I can tell she’s trying to suppress her smile. Her hand strokes across her flat stomach. I don’t even think she realizes she’s doing it.

“I talk to the baby,” she blurts out suddenly. “I know it’s probably too early, but I feel as though she can hear me. Or he. I can’t decide what we’re having.”

The words rush through me like a drug. “Whatwe’rehaving,” I whisper to myself.

A flush of protectiveness surges through my body. It’s the first indicator that this baby is going to change everything for me.

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