17. Mikhail

Viviana looks almost silver in the moonlight. There's a sheen of sweat across her skin and she's breathing heavily. Her lips are swollen from my mouth. I can see the marks my hands left, bruises darkening where I gripped her hips and pumped into her.

I was inside her without a single clue that she was pregnant with my baby.

"You should have told me," I snarl.

She grabs the flannel shirt I gave her and pulls it over her body like a blanket. "I am telling you. That's what I'm doing right now."

"You should have told me immediately." Before I sent you away. Before I let you get kidnapped.

She gestures around wildly. "What do you want from me, Mikhail? You know where I've been."

She's been with Trofim for days. Chained. Dehydrated. Terrified.

None of that can be good for the baby.

"Exactly. I know where you've been. There aren't a lot of pregnancy tests in captivity. I doubt my brother ran out for a test and some folic fucking acid."

Her indignation dims slightly and I know I'm right.

"You knew before you left the mansion that night," I accuse. "You knew you were pregnant when you got in my car and drove away from me."

"I didn't know anything," she argues. "I felt nauseous, but I wasn't sure."

"You should have told me," I repeat yet again.

"Told you what?" she fires back. "I would have sounded desperate! Like I was just trying to convince you to let me stay. You wouldn't have believed me."

She's right. We both know it. And still…

"Also, considering I'd been held at gunpoint, drugged and kidnapped by your father, and then rescued by you, only to find out you wanted nothing to do with me…" She lets that hang in the air, the accusation landing like a punch to the sternum. "It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that I was just stressed."

"Okay, fine. So you didn't know you were pregnant. But when did you suspect, Viviana? When did you take a test?"

She chews on her lower lip. Her cheeks flush and, for the first time, she doesn't have a ready answer.

"When did you take a test?" I growl again. "You were only out on your own for a couple hours before Trofim found you, right? And I know you left here and went straight to a pharmacy."

"Why are you asking if you already know the answer?" she snaps. "What do you want me to say?"

I grab my pants and yank them on. "I want you to admit that you lied to me."

"I didn't tell you because I didn't think it would make a difference."

"It would have been the difference between you being kidnapped from a rat-infested motel room by Trofim or you being safe and sound here with me."

Viviana stands up and slides her arms into the flannel shirt. I get another view at every inch of her bare skin. The swell of her breasts, the soft curve of her waist and the flare of her hips.

She's going to look incredible carrying my baby.I want to throw her down and fuck her again at just the thought of it.

She wraps the shirt around her, holding it closed. "If I'd told you that night, you would have let me stay here… but it wouldn't have been because you wanted me here. You would have let me stay here until I gave birth and then you would have kept the baby and sent me away. And I didn't want to be some breeding cow to you, Mikhail. That's not what I wanted."

"You could have died!" I roar. "Both of you could have died. Do you fucking understand that, Viviana?"

I could have lost you both.

Her face softens. She reaches for me, but I step away. "I took you to the hospital. You could have told the doctor. You didn't even ask Dr. Hamilton to check on the baby."

"I didn't—" She blows out a sharp breath. "I didn't know what was going to happen to me. I didn't want to say anything until I knew what the plan was."

Until she knew I wasn't going to dump her on the curb like garbage again. Until she knew she could trust me.

I hate myself for putting that thought in my head.

I hate Trofim for endangering Viviana and our future family.

I hate that this is good news and all I can think about is the million different ways that it can all go wrong.

"Mikhail," she breathes, "I'm sorry. Can we start over? I'm happy about this. I want this with you. Don't you want it, too?"

Before I can answer, my phone rings.

I probably shouldn't answer it, but it's late. Too late for anyone to be calling me unless it's an emergency.

I answer without looking to see who it is.

"Hello?"

"Mikhail." Raoul's voice is hoarse. He's yelling over what sounds like a white noise machine in the background. He coughs, a nasty, hacking sound.

"What's happening?"

Viviana steps forward, her hand on my arm. We're in the middle of a fight, but she can tell something is wrong.

I ignore the way that makes me feel and press the phone more firmly to my ear.

"Cerberus Industries," Raoul says. "It's on fire."