Page 18 of Nurse for the Russian Mafia

By the time my car gets here, she’s in a bar finding herself a table. I order the car to take me there, hating the thought of any other man ogling her in that dress, the supple curves of her thighs giving them the wrong idea.

Because she’s mine. And she always will be.

I’ll never stop fighting for us.

Chapter Fourteen

Samantha

As I walk into the bar, I imagine somebody pointing at me and screaming, “Wait, get her out of here!” But nobody does and, anyway, I’m not here to drink. The only reason I’m here is because it’s the closest place where I can find a private nook to nurse a diet coke in.

I sit down in a booth far in the corner and try to stop my mind from doing somersaults … and backflips, and barrel rolls, and every freaking kind of flip, really. Dad’s confession is playing on a loop in my mind. I sit back and rub my belly, another reason I wouldn’t order any alcohol.

I feel pregnant after what we did today. Is that just crazy or what? But it’s the truth. I feel a life swelling inside me with the promise of a future I know I want. Despite what just happened, I still know that I want to spend the rest of my life with Alexander, I want to have his babies and I want to marry him and…

Oh, jeez.

And I love him.

I let out a quivering breath as the fact hits me hard.

I love Alexander Lyadov.

Warmth spreads throughout me like liquid fire, heating up every part of me. The corners of my lips tug up into a big cheesy smile that I can’t fight, even if I wanted to…which I don’t. Sure, things are complicated, but didn’t somebody once say that love conquers all?

My smile drops a moment later. But what if Dad never comes around? What if Alexander doesn’t love me, and only wants me to bear his children and that’s it? There are so many what ifs, and my head is spinning again.

“Well, would you look at this, fellas?”

The voice is growly and mocking, a voice I recognize all too well from when I was in high school. I wonder if I’ve fallen asleep at the table and this is a nightmare as I look up. Dirk is standing there, still in his letterman jacket, which is just so typical of a douche-king who doesn’t know how to move on from high school. Behind him, I spot a few of his backup boys from the football team.

Dirk leans down, a cruel grin spreading across his face. “Why so glum, Sammy?” he taunts, knowing I hate when he talks to me like we’re friends. I’ve seen him once or twice since the incident in high school, and he’s always been a dick. “I was just saying to my boys here, damn, I wish I could find some desperate girl to make a fool of. It really does wonders for my self-esteem, you know?” He laughs. “Not that you’d know a thing about self-esteem, would you, cake-face?”

Before this whirlwind romance with Alexander, I might’ve let him bully me like this. But now all I can think about is that I’m going to be a mother one day very soon, and if there’s one thing a mom needs to be, it’s brave.

I stand up and glare at him. “I get it, Dirk, you’re unhappy. With your life. With yourself. You’re depressed because you know, in your heart of hearts, that your life peaked at prom. But why don’t you just go and tell someone who gives a crap? Because believe it or not, I don’t spend every second of my life thinking about you, the same way you seem to about me. So just get lost, dickhead.”

His mouth falls open. Behind him, his friends are laughing, but trying not to. Dirk looks lost for a second as he glances at them. Then he makes a strange, feral noise and raises his hand.

He’s going to hit me.

“Bitch!” he roars, bringing his hand down.

Suddenly, Alexander is there. He pushes between us, pinning Dirk’s arm up with a well-placed hand. He shoves him back and Dirk stumbles, knocking into his friends.

“You have a death wish,” Alexander says coldly. In his sleek black suit, his muscles straining and pulsing, pressing against the fabric like they can’t contain the volcanic heat he feels at seeing me treated in this way. “That’s the only explanation for you raising a hand to my lady.”

Dirk tries to laugh it off, but his eyes are wide and keep skittering about the place, as though he’s looking for an exit. “What’re you gonna do, old man?”

“Walk away,” Alexander growls. “You’re lucky I didn’t get here thirty seconds later. If you’d laid a hand on her…”

Dirk looks at his friends. “Are we really gonna let this grandpa talk to me like that, boys?”

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