Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

Aria

I wakewith a wave of nausea.

I toss my hand over my mouth and run to the bathroom just in time. I kneel over the toilet and retch.

Oh, God.

Something I ate? Maybe it was something I ate. We ordered DoorDash from some Russian bistro place he likes, and while it was delicious, I ate some foods I’d never eaten before.

God, no, I can’t be sick! Not today.

Tonight’s the night of the gala. Polina and I actually got to go shopping and pick out accessories. Mikhail picked out my dress and I’m excited to see it.

Wait — the night of the gala. The night when I’ll be around all the people that want me dead.

Maybe I don’t have to go? Conflicting emotions? Yeah.

I bend my mouth over the toilet a second time. When I rest my head on my arm, panting from the exertion, I feel Mikhail’s warm presence behind me.

“I’m so sorry you’re sick, love,” he says with concern. I open my mouth to respond, when another wave of nausea hits me. This time, he holds my hair until I’m spent. I rest my head on my arm again.

“Maybe it’s the food we ordered last night?”

I lean back against the wall. The cool tile feels good beneath me.

Mikhail crouches in front of me, his eyes a picture of concern. He’s already hit the gym and showered, his dark hair damp, and he’s dressed in business casual, so he likely has a meeting.

My throat gets all tight when he brushes my hair out of my eyes and places his large hand across my forehead. “You’re not warm. How else do you feel?”

I wipe at tears in my eyes. “That’s so sweet,” I say, wondering what’s come over me so suddenly. I’m not usually all sappy and sentimental. “I was just nauseous.”

“You fell asleep so early last night.” He rises and gestures for me to stay where I am before handing me a small cup of water. “Maybe you shouldn’t have slept so soon after a meal.”

If there’s anything I’ve learned from being with Mikhail, it’s that Russians are a very superstitious people. They knock on wood to ward off bad luck, have religious icons and art all over the place to protect them despite the fact that they are decidedly not religious, and I once saw their mother lose her mind when one of them was whistling indoors. Apparently, that brings bad luck. There’s likely some myth or belief about eating before bed being related to illness.

“I don’t…I don’t know. I—” I swallow.

I pause because it suddenly occurred to me that my period was due last week.

He reaches for me before I slump over. “You look like you’re going to pass out, Aria. Let me.” I normally love his Russian accent and how he’s all protective. The “come with me” is followed by him carrying me in his arms with gentility.

“Mikhail.” My voice is just above a whisper, but it gets his attention loud and clear. “You have a meeting?”

“I’ll call it off.”

I remember Polina talking about the important officials coming into town for the gala. For all I know, he’s meeting with the prime minister of Russia, and he’s about to call it off.

“You don’t have to. Really, Mikhail, I’m fine.”

His growl tells me he definitely doesn’t agree.

“Except. Well. Maybe…”

“What is it?” He lays me in bed and brushes a hand to my face, holding my eyes with his. “Tell me.”

I can’t be pregnant. God, no. But we haven’t used birth control, and I’m in good health…

“We maybe need to get some pregnancy tests.”

He comes to a sudden halt. “Pregnancy tests. Do you think you might be pregnant?”

“I just lost my cookies for no good reason, I fell asleep at like seven o’clock last night, my period is late, and I’ve been having very frequent unprotected sex with a man who’s hung like a king of the forest. I’m not sure if it’s science, but I’d hazard a guess that does something to your virility.” I’m trying to tease him, but he doesn’t smile. He stares.

I actually managed to convince myself that Mikhail Romanov doesn’t do surprise or really any emotion that might stem from any apparent weakness.

Apparently, I was wrong.

“Here, Aria.” He adjusts me on the bed as if I’m going to break. “Stay still. Do not move.”

Pregnancy. Babies. No protection. I knew this was a possibility, but I somehow managed to convince myself that would be way, way in the future. Why would someone like me be so fertile when there are thousands and thousands of women that try everything for years so they can conceive?

What if I don’t want a baby?

What if I…what if I’m not ready?

I’m not ready.

I curl up on the bed and he reaches for a handknit afghan his mother brought us last week. She said it was a late wedding gift because it took her longer than she thought. “He needs something very big to cover him fully,” she said with a laugh.

He pulls it up over my shoulders and heads toward the bathroom. I stare at the intricate pattern of ivory and caramel-colored yarn.

He bought pregnancy tests. Is that cute or controlling?

Can it be both?

I don’t. Want. To be. Pregnant.

I remember what he said to me weeks ago when we got married.

Marrying me was your first payment to me. The second will be bearing my child.

Payment to me.

The second will be bearing my child.

My child.

I’ve finally gotten accustomed to some of his ways. At least I think I have. I’ve finally made peace with the price I’ve paid for his protection. For taking care of me. And he does take excellent care of me.

But I don’t want children. I never have.

I go through my reasons for not wanting children.

First, I don’t have extended family.

Mikhail does, though.

Having been poor my whole life, I didn’t want a child to experience poverty, either. It matters to me to be able to provide well for a family.

That’s also not a concern anymore.

Before I can continue my list of objections, Mikhail comes to me. My mind continues to bring up every possibility and fear I can muster. I’ve never seen him look like this before, his eyes bright and excited. “Alright, so you need to use the bathroom, then we dip this stick…”

I pause, staring at him. I can’t air my concerns. I’m here for complicated reasons, and if I decide not to have a baby…what happens next?

“Let me help you up,” he says, lifting me in his arms.

“Mikhail, please,” I say with a little laugh. “I can walk. I’m not injured or anything.”

He scowls at me. “Are you talking back to me?”

“Well, no,” I say with a pout.

“Are you pouting?”

“Doesn’t a woman who’s maybe pregnant have a right to pout?”

I wouldn’t have chosen this, not on a bet.

“Then why do you look that way?”

“Nausea,” I respond. “Doubts.”

“Ahh. There’s nothing to fear, Aria. No matter what, I will take care of you.”

Easy for him to say. He isn’t the one potentially carrying human life in his womb.

He stands reluctantly outside the door when I pee on the strip, then practically bangs it down when he hears me flush.

“Your impatience won’t make the test result come any sooner,” I tell him, but he ignores me, of course, and just walks into the bathroom and stares at it, as if willing it to reveal two pink lines. The timer on his phone ticks.

I’m a little scared of his reaction if it’s positive. Will he wrap me in bubble wrap or confine me to bed?

I’m a little scared of his reaction if it’s negative.

Will that mean I’ve failed?

One minute passes. I feel nauseous again at the second minute, and by the time the third minute’s over, I’m swallowing hard to keep the remaining contents of my belly down.

I don’t even know how to tell him I’m not sure what I want the test to say.

Pregnant? With the mafia lord’s child? Destined to be raised wealthy, yes, and loved, absolutely, but — into a world of crime and violence?

Or…not pregnant.

Mikhail’s fallen expression tells me my answer before I even look. “I’m not, am I?” I ask in a little voice.

He shakes his head.

I expect nothing but relief but I’m surprised to find I’m…also disappointed. I sigh. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. Am I?

I don’t ever remember being so conflicted over anything in my life.

Am I sorry that he’s disappointed?

Wordlessly, we clean the bathroom. I toss the negative test into the trash bin and wash my hands. I try to conjure up a feeling of relief, but it’s…mixed.

“How are you feeling?” he asks me.

“Hungry, honestly. Oh, wait, is that what you meant, though?” Does he mean emotionally?

“Yes, all of it. How are you feeling?”

“I’m…not sure.”

Relieved? Disappointed?

“I’ll get you breakfast. We need you better for tonight, because it’s crucial we get you there.”

It feels so good to lie down.  A buzz sounds on my phone.

Polina: Can’t wait for tonight! You ready?

Feeling not so great, honestly. Maybe something I ate?

No! Oh, I’m so sorry. Make that brother of mine get you something to eat.

I snort. As if anyone could “make” Mikhail do anything.

He’s already getting me something, though.

I bite my lip when he leaves the room to get us breakfast. Should I tell her?

Why not?

Honestly? I just took a pregnancy test.

OH MY GOD. Annnddd??

Negative. I think…no, I know Mikhail is very disappointed.

Oh, it will happen. Sometimes it doesn’t show up right away on a test! Are you late?

Yes.

Test again tomorrow! I’ll bring things for you tonight. Stuff that will help. My bestie is pregnant and I know all about it!

Thank you! Good luck!

Sometimes it doesn’t show up right away….

Yikes. I need to check again, and soon.

Pregnant.

Pregnant.

What would a baby with Mikhail look like? Would he or she have those deep, dark eyes and charming personality?

I actually manage to snicker to myself.

I sit up in bed, grateful for the food when Mikhail brings in a tray of buttered toast, scrambled eggs, thick bacon, and a fruit bowl.

“Eat, Aria. Try at least three bites.”

I grunt. I’m not sure I want to. But the look he gives me dares me to push him, and I’m starting to become honestly…pretty aware of when he wants me to do something.

“Aria,” he warns.

“Would you really force a pregnant woman to obey you?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Yes. And you’re not pregnant.”

“Yet,” I mutter, as I take a triangle of toast and bite the edge.

His eyes crinkle around the edges, a rare sight that does funny things to my heart. I swallow.

“You stay and rest in bed for a little while. I’ll check on you and then we can make a plan for tonight.”

I sigh. I don’t want to stay in bed, but he has a point, and I know he won’t budge, either.

“Can you pretty please bring me my laptop though?”

“Which one?”

It’s a fair question. I’ve maybe gone a little crazy with that credit card.

“Hmm. The rose gold one, please.”

I maybe had a little fun with that.

While he gets the laptop, I head to the closet to get something comfy to wear.  I still feel a little guilty going into this closet. I never had anything like this in my life, and now I have more than I could’ve ever imagined. If my mother saw me now…I pull out a pair of soft white sweats and a hoodie when a garment bag catches my attention.

I peek at the dress hidden behind a blanket of plastic, hanging right in front. Is this…oh, wow. Okay, so this is the dress he got me for the gala. I lift the plastic to take a peek.

Wow.

Woooowwww.

It’s breathtaking. I reach a tentative finger out to touch the coal black, luxurious satin bodice. It’s elegant and sophisticated, modest because he won’t showcase me too much, but…sexy as hell. Spaghetti straps and a fitted bodice, accented with a panel of sheer lace at the waist and a cinched waistline accented with a thin satin ribbon. A full, A-line skirt, a narrow hem adorned with rhinestones.

Or are those diamonds? I’ve never worn anything like this in my life.

I let the plastic drop. My eyes fall on a few shoe boxes, each labeled in my size, and a hanger featuring the sweetest little handbag with a rhinestone clasp that matches the hem of my dress.

I’ll feel like a princess tonight.

No, not a princess.

A queen.

An elegant, sophisticated queen.

But for now, I’m just Aria, certified hacker.

I hear Mikhail’s footsteps. I join him in the room.

“That dress is stunning,” I tell him as I climb back into the bed.

“Mm,” he says with pursed lips. “If you go tonight. Let’s make sure you are well.”

I prop myself up on pillows and notice the wooden tray with tea and snacks on the bedside table. He had his staff bring them up. I swallow the lump in my throat.

“I should be fine. I really think it was just something I ate.”

“Or,” he says, lifting a brow at me. “It’s just too early to test, like Polina suggested.”

Why do I always forget he has access to my phone and reads my texts? I stifle a grumble.

“Right.”

Is it, though? I don’t want to think about that. Right now, I don’t have any reason to believe I’m pregnant, and I’m perfectly fine with that. There’s no positive test.

It’s a bug. Something I ate. Hormones. Whatever.

“You have a job for me to do today?” I ask hopefully. In the past week or so he’s given me various tasks to do. It’s the highlight of my day, using my skills, even if what we do isn’t exactly…well, legal.

“Yes, and it’s time sensitive.”

I fist pump. My favorite.

“I’d like you to find your way into border security. We have a shipment of goods coming in from Canada, costly merchandise we need for tonight’s gala — rare artwork we are planning to auction. Should’ve arrived three days ago, but border agents found out they were being delivered to us in The Cove and they’re being dicks about it.”

I rub my hands together gleefully. “Oh, yeah,” I say with a little chuckle. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

A corner of Mikhail’s lips quirks up. “You’re beautiful when you’re in your evil genius mode.”

I wave a hand at him, though my heart does a quick little thump of approval. “You say that about everything.”

Leaning in, he captures the back of my neck and brings my mouth to his with a sensual kiss that makes my toes curl. I soften against him and sigh. It’s not fair how quickly he does that to me.

“That’s because it’s true,” he whispers in my ear before planting another kiss to the top of my head. “I’ll be in the office. Aleks is downstairs to detail an attempted cyberattack from some of our rivals.”

“Oh?” I ask with feigned nonchalance. Aleks and I do not get along. “Send him up if he wants a few lessons.”

“Aria,” Mikhail warns.

I blow out a breath. “Fine. I’ll play nice. Go ahead, go soothe his ego while I get the real work done.”

“Behave yourself,” he warns as the door shuts behind him.

I quickly forget his admonition and my nausea and fears when I open up the laptop and come alive. This is where I shine.

I happily tap away, secure that I’m not being watched by anyone but him because of his excellent firewall and setup. It cost big bucks to get me this souped-up laptop, but it’s a rounding error for him. Mere pocket change. My fingers dance over the keyboard so I can secure this shipment in time.

No one dicks around with my husband.

“One more…there we go…yeppers.” Boom.

The digital access to border security appears on the screen. A wave of nausea hits me, and I automatically grab a square of toast and sip the tea he left me. Oh, nice. Spicy and a little sweet. Ginger?

“There we go, suckers,” I say gleefully to myself. “That didn’t take long at all. You guys really need to up your game.”

Right in front of me I have access to everything — security cameras and electronic locks, a list of all imports and exports and addresses for where they’re going. Personnel names and shifts.

Perfect.

Evil genius mode.

Who knew he had a sense of humor?

I smile to myself when another wave of nausea hits. I absentmindedly eat the food and drink the tea until it’s gone while I navigate my way around as if I belong here. “There we go. Come to mama, baby,” I whisper, as I navigate through the layers of safety protocols with ease. Firewalls and encryption barriers? Zing. See ya. I screw my face up in concentration as I look from one thing to the next.

Surveillance cameras are going down first. My fingers fly over the keyboard as I look for any hole in their armor, a vulnerable entryway for me to get into their camera systems and make sure I⁠—

“Oooh, yeah,” I say, like a teen furiously killing aliens in a game. “Pew, pew, pew!” I take them out one at a time.

I don’t have audio access to the main guard station but can see the looks of consternation on their faces. That’s right, boys. What happened to your little security cameras? I happened to them. That’s what you get for fucking around with my husband. If Mikhail Romanov wants to auction expensive, rare artwork so he looks like a philanthropist? That’s what he does.

While they’re likely occupied bringing the cameras back online for everything that’s literally right in front of their faces, I move toward the electronic lock system.

Plink.

Plink.

Plink.

It’s easy enough to do this remotely, as well.

Next up, I override their internal texting system and have a little fun. I give one of them the day off. Tell the second there’s been a mistake and all held cargo will move ahead double speed because they were delayed. And the third’s sent to do some busywork sweeping a holding cell near the main office.

“You didn’t even hear me come in.”

I nearly jump out of my skin to see Mikhail and Aleks standing in the doorway. Aleks, his hands shoved in his pockets, jerks his chin at me in greeting. He doesn’t dare mistreat me in front of his brother, but I know he’s seething below the surface.

“I was concentrating. Maybe you could knock or something to pull me out of evil genius mode.”

Mikhail gestures toward his phone and narrows his eyes, a warning to watch my tone of voice. I shiver, suddenly aware of how hot he looks when he’s staring at me like that.

“I could. Or you could answer your phone.”

I swallow and nod. Yep. Yes, I could.

“I was catching Aleks up to speed but before I do, how are you feeling?”

“Much better.” I gesture to the empty tray. “See? It must’ve been that food we ordered.”

Mikhail scowls, unconvinced.

“What did you order?” Aleks asks Mikhail, not looking at me, of course, but at him.

“Moscow Morsels,” he mutters.

“I’m telling you, those blinis were terrible. I swear they cook them from frozen,” I chime in.

Aleks shakes his head. “They’re the worst there.” We suddenly realize we’re agreeing on something.

I turn away. Hmph.

Still, a part of me remembers what Polina said about testing for pregnancy…

“Have you made any progress?”

I snort. “Have I made any progress? You bet your ass I have.”

Mikhail gives me “the look” with a hint of a smirk. A warning. Not exactly a curse but I’m close.

I look at him with wide-eyed innocence. “I mean yes, sir, of course I have.”

Aleks seems to forgive me momentarily. “Fill us in?”

I quickly tell them the progress I’ve made.

“It would be a lot easier if only I could hear what they were saying. I’m right there, right on the cusp of getting your shipment expedited but it’s a bit tricky.”

Aleks’s eyes gleam. “I know exactly how we can hear inside.”

Hmm. I’m not jealous at all. I narrow my eyes at him. “Yeah? Tell me.”

“May I?” He gestures toward my laptop.

“No one touches my laptop.” I glare at him. “Tell me.”

Mikhail nods, so Aleks tells me, even though he’s obviously not too pleased about it. “Voice over Internet Protocol. We intercept VoIP traffic and —”

“I thought of that,” I interrupt impatiently. “We don’t have time for that.”

His lips thin. “Have you found any vulnerable devices? Security camera with a microphone, unsecured smart phones?”

He has a fair point. “Maybe not fully,” I admit. Maybe not at all?

“I’d start there.”

I’m already on it. In seconds, I’ve located Jim’s iPhone, wide open for all to see. I quickly enable the audio function and hit the speaker volume on my laptop. I can hear them as well as if I were standing in the room next to them.

Point one for Aleks, but I won’t admit it.

“Something’s not right here,” one of the voices says. “We should be able to access all video footage, and it seems…”

Their voices get jumbled for a moment.

“Our ten o’clock hasn’t arrived.”

I put my hand over the speaker. “Their ten o’clock hasn’t arrived because I hacked their texting system and gave him the day off.”

Aleks looks impressed. Mikhail, however, gives me a wary look and pulls out his phone.

“Relax,” Aleks says, waving off Mikhail. “I have a firewall and MFA installed so no one can access our lines.”

“MFA?” Mikhail shakes his head.

“Multi-factor authentication,” Aleks and I say in unison. He glares. I narrow my eyes at him. Not sure if now’s the time to demonstrate I can totally get by his firewall and MFA?

“You should conduct more frequent penetration testing,” I tell him.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, the network segmentation covers that,” Aleks says with a near-growl.

“Hmm,” I say, stroking my chin. I lift my phone. “Are you sure about that?”

Mikhail looks from me to him. “I can’t tell if you two are getting along or fighting.”

“Neither,” we say, again in unison.

Aleks crosses his arms across his chest. “What’s your favorite scripting language for penetration testing?”

“Can you stop saying penetration?” Mikhail mutters but I’m already thinking.

“God, that’s a hard one. Ruby’s a fave, but Python…”

“Infinitely more readable minus the simplicity of Ruby,” he supplies.

“Mmm.” I’m starting to warm up to him, but he can answer a question of mine now. “Best way to handle the aftermath of a data breach and compromised system?”

“Murder and bloodshed, obviously,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders.

I laugh out loud. “You are so brothers. Okay, so murder and bloodshed aren’t my methods, but of course they would be yours, after you lock down encrypted data and issue an alert. Real question. Protocol for if and when you encounter a WAF and have you ever successfully bypassed it?”

“Web Application Firewall,” he says to Mikhail. “And yes, of course I have. My methods have, in the past, involved evasion through encoding and protocol tunneling, but there’s no goddamn way I’m going to give you details on anything else.”

“Hmm. Touché.”

Apparently Aleks doesn’t get in trouble for swearing. That is so unfair.

Mikhail crosses his arms on his chest so they now very much look exactly like brothers.

My computer dings. I pump the air.

“Your shipment is on the way via expedited shipping and will arrive on time. Your name is Gladys Anderson and you’re a multi-billionaire old lady, if anyone asks.”

Aleks snorts. “She got one right.”

Mikhail reaches for my chin and cups it. “Well done, little hacker,” he says. My chest warms at his praise even as my mind does a somersault.

Multi-billionaire?

God.

Mikhail’s phone rings. Silencing it, he starts to shove it into his pocket when it rings again. He exchanges a look with Aleks.

What’s going on?

Mikhail blows out a breath and answers the phone. “What?” He listens, his eyes darkening. “I’ll handle it.”

He’ll handle…what?