Page 9 of Nurse for the Russian Mafia

“Yes, dear?”

“I know this might seem super-random, but is Alexander a good man?”

“You know what he does for a living.”

“Yes, but that’s not really an answer. You’re friends with him, aren’t you?”

“No, I didn’t mean that to be mean, you know what he does for a living, therefore you know he’s a bad man. I meant that you must know I can’t talk about this.”

I gesture flippantly with a croissant. “Come on, Dad. Who the heck am I gonna tell?”

He sighs. “For your ears only. Alex is a good man. The Bratva, his work, it’s not what people might think from the movies. Not these days. It’s more about the internet, networking, legitimate businesses, things like that. Oh, I’m sure Alex has to handle things in, ah, certain ways sometimes. But nowhere near as much as people might believe. And I know Alex, he is my closest friend. He has never harmed anybody, ever, who didn’t deserve it.”

He shakes his head quickly.

“But I’ve said too much already,” he mutters.

I finish my breakfast and go upstairs to get changed into my nurse scrubs. He is my closest friend. That’s what Dad said, which just makes this situation all the more tangled. But I also have to admit I’m happy about what Dad said about Alexander’s work. He’s a good man. That’s just such a relief, because I want the father of my children to be a good man.

I head to work, hoping it’ll help order my thoughts. But by the time I get home at around seven my mind is still as jumbled as when I left.

All throughout my shift, I kept imagining what my life with Alexander could look like.

Would he support my veterinary studies while I was pregnant? Does he love me? Could we ever be truly happy, or is this just a high-school-style hoax, the sort of thing inexperienced girls like me shouldn’t let themselves dream about?

Since Dad is out when I get back, I prepare some food for me and Alexander. I can hear banging around downstairs, so I assume he’s home. I make some baguettes and then carry the tray downstairs.

With each step, tingles assail me, heightening the tension that pricks with anticipation every time I think about seeing the man who has claimed me.

I stop outside the door when I hear him groaning.

Suddenly, I place the tray on the side table outside, gasping.

He has a girl in there.

Oh, no.

I’ve been tricked again.

He has a girl in there and they’re having sweaty sex and he’s probably laughing at the way he led me on. I bet she’s a supermodel-looking girl, all twig-skinny, completely having missed the boat of society shifting its beauty standards to plus-size sensuality. He grunts louder and my heartbeat hammers like a jackhammer in my chest.

I’ve been so stupid.

The old Samantha would run away and cry, but I promised myself that I’d never react like that again. If he thinks it’s funny to lead me on and trick me, screw him, I’m not going to stand for it.

I open the door.

Oh, now I feel really silly.

There isn’t another woman in there at all. He’s grunting because he’s working out, doing clap push-ups in tight shorts that let my eyes roam over the sculpted landscape of his tight-muscled body. He leaps to his feet and turns to me, a smirk on his devilish lips. The sweat in his hair has made the obsidian tint blacker and the steel shine a deeper shade of silver.

“I smell food,” he barks. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

“Okay, greedy,” I giggle. “Two seconds.”

“You’re going to make a perfect life partner,” he says, when he sees what I’ve brought him. “Meat. Good. Bring it here. We’ll eat together.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. These are for you.”

“What?” He narrows his eyes penetratingly at me. “Aren’t you hungry? You’ve clearly just come from the hospital, and I know how hard you work. You must be starving.”

I place the tray down on his bed and back away. His eyes stalk me. I stop, feeling like he’s freezing me with his all-seeing gaze. He looks at me like no man ever has before, as though he can read my deepest wants with the most cursory of assessments.

“You’re ashamed,” he snarls, shaking his head. “You’re ashamed to eat in front of me.”

Bingo.

“Nah uh,” I lie.

“Samantha,” he glowers. “You need to eat, for two very good reasons. The first is that there is no way I am letting that body waste away to skin and bones. I need a full-figured lady, and you’ve got the most perfect full figure I’ve ever seen. And the second is that you need to stay strong…for what we’re going to do tomorrow night.”

My mouth falls open and my sex quivers, sending arrows of sensation to my womb. I feel my body readying itself for him, for the lovemaking that will swell my belly and fill me with life. I want to clamp my thighs tight around him and draw his seed deep, where it belongs …

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