11. Natalya

Chapter 11

Natalya

I ’m about to run back home when he appears on the sidewalk behind me.

This was such a bad idea. I never, ever should have come here, and I was about to escape when he showed up. I didn’t even realize he wasn’t inside already, and once he touches my arm and talks to me in that low, commanding voice of his, I knew I was screwed.

Which is how I step into Alex’s penthouse apartment.

It’s immaculate, which isn’t a surprise. He’s a stuck-up perfectionist and a total asshole, and his home reflects that. Everything is chic, modern, and minimalist. There’s no clutter, nothing out of place, and barely any sign that a real human occupies this space.

There’s a big balcony outside overlooking the river with an infinity pool and an outdoor sitting area. He’s got a second floor for the bedrooms, and a spacious living area. We head into his lavish kitchen and he parks me down at the big island before pouring two glasses of wine.

“How’d you sneak out?” he asks, which wasn’t what I expected.

“Enzo falls asleep,” I tell him without thinking.

Alex scowls. “I’ll have to have a talk with him tomorrow.” Then his expression softens. “Or maybe the day after.”

What’s left unspoken is: since tomorrow is my wedding day .

I lift the wine to my lips but stop myself. I nearly take a huge gulp, and I’m honestly desperate to get some alcohol in me right now, but I stop before I drink any.

It’s not good for the baby.

I lower the glass again, hand shaking. God, I’m such a fucking mess. I debated coming here for hours, basically ever since I took those pregnancy tests—plus four more from two other brands, all positive—and I’ve come up with about ten dozens reasons for and against telling him the truth.

Pros: he’s the father, he deserves to know, he might be able to help me.

Cons: he’s a bastard and I’m marrying someone else tomorrow.

“I really should leave,” I say and start to rise.

“Sit back down,” he commands.

I drop to my seat, but I clench my jaw. “Don’t talk to me that way.”

“I found you lurking outside of my apartment building and now you’re acting like you stole something.”

“I wasn’t lurking.”

“You were lurking. I’ve seen assassins act more natural than you.”

“They probably have practice at this sort of thing,” I mutter through my teeth.

“What’s going on, Natalya? I assume Lev doesn’t know you’re here.”

“No, he doesn’t know. Nobody knows.”

“Then why did you show up at my apartment the night before you’re getting married?”

I stare at him and he stares back, and for a second, we’re back in Paris again. He’s looking at me like he can’t stop himself from taking me, and I’m practically aching for him to bury the distance between us with his body.

I want that night back. I want that man back. But he’s been gone since we woke up in the morning, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to recreate that magic.

“I need to tell you something.” My hand’s shaking as I reach into my sweatshirt pouch. I have a pregnancy test stashed in there wrapped in toilet paper.

He drinks from his wine. “Then tell me.”

“Can you make me some tea?” I blurt out instead. His eyebrows raise. “Herbal tea. Please. It’ll help calm my nerves.”

He doesn’t move for a long moment. Then he turns and fills an electric kettle. “It’s normal to be nervous before your wedding,” he grunts at me as the water heats up. He finds chamomile in the cabinet and lets it steep. “Even more normal considering you don’t really know your future husband very well.”

“Right, yeah,” I mumble at him, playing with the test, turning it in circles. My knee bounces and I feel sick to my stomach, though this time I’m pretty sure it’s not pregnancy related. Not directly, anyway.

“Although he has practically buried you in presents.” He puts the tea in front of me. “That hasn’t softened you to him? I figured it would.”

Leave it to Alex to find a way to piss me off right now. “Why do you think I’m so shallow?”

“Because when you were sixteen, you cried when your dad bought you an Acura instead of the BMW you wanted.”

My cheeks turn pink with embarrassment. “I was sixteen , and that stupid Acura was falling apart. The bumper was ducted taped on!”

“It was a perfectly good car.”

“The right wheel fell off a year later. I crashed into the median.”

“You survived, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, because I was going like twenty miles an hour!” I grab my tea mug and take a sip. It burns my tongue, which doesn’t help with my frustration. “It’s like you weren’t an insufferable teenager too.”

“That’s because I wasn’t.”

“You were a know it all. Don’t you remember? Always correcting people.”

“That’s not true,” he says, glaring at me.

“Oh my god, ask Lev about it. Even Step used to laugh about it behind your back. You were such a prick.” Especially to me , but I don’t add that.

“And you were stuck up and rude. Remember the flowers your senior prom date brought you? Remember how you threw them in the trash?”

“Those flowers were stolen, you asshole.”

“At least he went to the trouble.”

I roll my eyes and throw up my hands. “It doesn’t matter what I do. Nothing’s ever good enough for you, is it?”

“That’s not true. You just don’t ever try. Your whole life, everything’s been given to you.” Now he’s really getting into it, and I’m just as angry. “That’s what I hate about you the most. I had to fight and fucking kill to get even a scrap of what I have, while you waltzed through life like you slept on a bed of golden roses at night. You always looked down on me.”

“ You always looked down on me ! You treated me like I was an idiot from the first day I met you. Like it’s my fault my father provided for us? I never asked for any of it!”

“And you sure as hell weren’t going to say no.”

“You’re unbelievable. After all these years, you seriously still hold this stuff against me? We were fucking kids, Alex.”

“Nothing’s changed,” he says, his face hard. He throws back the wine. “Why are you even here, Natalya? Don’t you have a perfect little wedding tomorrow morning?”

I grab the pregnancy test from my pouch, and before I come to my senses, I fling it down onto the counter between us.

He stares at the little bundle and I step back, seething as I point at it.

“That’s why I’m here,” I snap at him, so mad I can barely see straight.

He doesn’t say anything. Only reaches out, unwraps the test, and stares at it.

Tears rolls down my cheeks. God, I’m so pissed at myself for crying, but this is what he does to me. Alex knows how to get under my skin better than anyone else in the world, and it isn’t fair.

It’s not right that he’s the father of my baby, when I wish it was anyone else.

He picks up the test and holds it to the light as if that might change the result.

“When?” he asks, almost whispering.

“I took that one last night. I have more if you don’t believe me.”

He doesn’t answer. Just keeps looking at the test, his face a mask of stunned silence.

I wipe my eyes and pull myself together. My anger cools and my embarrassment fades. I watch him processing, and I don’t know what I want or what I expect. Should he come around the counter and kiss me? Should he drag me into his arms and tell me everything will be okay?

I don’t even know if that’s what I need right now.

But I know I need something .

Even if he pisses me off, Alex has been in my life for a very long time, and that night was real.

What happened in Paris was real and it felt good and we had a connection that I’ve never experienced before and sure as hell won’t experience again if I get married tomorrow.

Nobody else can help me. Not my friends. Not my family.

“I don’t know what to do,” I say finally, voice cracking. “Tell me what to do, Alex. Please. Tell me what to do.”

And a sick part of me wants him to make it all go away.

If he said we could run away together starting tonight, I’d follow him. I don’t know where we’d go or how we’d survive, but if it meant having a life on my own terms, I’d do it.

If it meant raising my child without having to lie to my husband, I’d throw everything away.

He slowly puts the test back down and wraps the toilet paper around it.

He looks at me, his expression hard.

“Go home, get some sleep, and get married in the morning,” he says.

And just like that, I’m alone again.

Alone like in Paris, alone like in that dress shop.

Alone in Alex’s apartment, alone with the truth about this baby.

“How?” I ask him.

“You just do it. You know what will happen if anyone finds out about this? You know the consequences?”

“I know,” I tell him because I’ve thought it through a thousand times already.

“You don’t.” His voice is hard. It’s harsh, almost angry. “It would be a war, Natalya. The Italians would take this as the ultimate insult. They’d kill me, and they’d try to kill your brother and your father. They might even try to kill you. If they find out that baby isn’t your husband’s, people will die.”

I open my mouth to argue?—

But I know he’s right.

These people, they only know family, honor, and violence. This baby will ruin everything, ruin the alliance my father’s building, and it’ll tear the city apart.

People will die if anyone finds out.

Not just people in my family—but Zeitsev soldiers and Italians too.

Men that have nothing to do with my stupid mistakes will lose their lives because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

“You want me to bury it,” I say, feeling so empty.

“You have to bury it,” he agrees. His face is pale and his hands tremble as he clenches them into fists. “We forget we ever had this conversation.”

“But Alex?—“

“Please,” he says and that word tells me everything. It sounds like he’s in agony, but he made up his mind and there’s no changing it. “This is the only way you can have a life now, Natalya. This is the only way you can be safe.

We bury it, and I bury myself too.

I turn away from him. I can’t bear to look at him anymore. I know he’s right, and that’s the worst part.

But if he had wanted to run away?—

Well, it doesn’t matter anymore.

I walk away, numb, floating, and leave the pregnancy test behind.