Page 35 of Shattered Cradle (Makarova Bratva Duet)

“You don’t want to be there, do you?” I ask. “In his hotel.”

“No,” she admits. “I don’t.”

“Because you know, deep down, that I’m right.”

“So deep down that it’s a secret even from myself.” She laughs bitterly. “I have your words in my head all the time. But I don’t know if I believe them because you’re the one who said them or because they actually make sense.”

“Why would I lie to you?”

“Because you want me to believe you’re innocent. But, I mean, let’s face it, Aleks: Donald is the one with the spotless record and the stellar reputation.”

“And?”

She frowns. “And my family trusts him. They like him.”

“Careful or you’ll make me jealous.”

She glares at me. “This is serious.”

“I am being serious.”

“My family doesn’t understand why I can’t trust him the way they do. He’s been nothing but good to them,” she says. “To all of us. But you’re feeding me this other story, and… I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

I look at her without blinking. “I’m telling you what’s real.”

When she glances up, her eyes are glassy and red. A sob escapes her lips. “My family has always been the most important thing to me, Aleks. We’ve always had each other’s backs. We used to trust each other. But now… now, everything’s different.”

“Because of me,” I suggest.

“You and the baby both,” she agrees. “When they look at me, I can see the pity in their eyes. They look at me like I’ve been tainted somehow, and they wish they could reverse it.”

“Have they said anything to you?”

“Nothing at all,” I say. “They asked about morning sickness, but after I told them you didn’t rape me, they won’t talk about it. They haven’t even asked how I feel about being pregnant.”

“How doyoufeel about it?” I ask. As the words escape me, I realize that I need to know. I need to know with a burning intensity what all this means to her.

She looks up at me. Tears cling to her eyelashes like morning dew. She looks so sad and so beautiful, and I want to destroy anything that could ever make her cry.

Then she smiles, those unshed tears still in her eyes. “I’m… happy. I’m so happy that I’m pregnant. I already love this baby so much. And I can’t believe my family won’t accept it, won’t accept me…”

“That part is not about you, Olivia. It’s about me.”

She shakes her head. “That shouldn’t matter. This baby is mine, too. It’s both of us. And they should want to know him or her regardless.”

“Maybe they will. Give it time.”

She looks unconvinced. “We promised each other a long time ago, right after Dad died, that no matter what happened in life, we would always be in each other’s corner. He told us all the time about how we needed to look after each other. But now, they look at me and it’s so mean, the way they do it. Like I’m a weak, pathetic little girl who can’t tell right from wrong.”

“I don’t see that. I don’t see weakness,” I tell her gently. “When I look at you, I don’t see any trace of weakness at all.”

A single tear falls from her eyes. “Are you just saying that because I’m crying?”

I smile. “I’ve made a lot of people cry, and tears have never once changed my opinion.”

“What makes you think I’m brave?”

“What makes you think you aren’t?”

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