Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Aria

"Mikhail, please. Sit down."

I sip the glass of water Polina gave me and wish she could talk some sense into him. He’s been ranting and raving and insisting on attention since we got in here.

“What’s fucking taking them so long?”

Polina shakes her head. "Aria isn’t the only patient. You threatening the doctors isn’t going to make her better anytime soon."

Still, I can’t help but find it a little bit endearing.

"That guy at the nurse’s station? He decided he was going to eat dinner. Dinner — when my wife could be in danger. I saw him leave and come back with food!"

Polina’s lips twitch, and her eyes quickly come to mine before returning to him. "A doctor is allowed to take a break, Mikhail, especially when it’s not an emergency. And Aria’s stable and fine.”

He might be complaining, but there are six doctors in the hallway and four nurses in the room with me. When a Romanov comes into the ER, it’s all-hands-on-deck. They’ve been practically rolling out the red carpet since we got here. I don’t blame them, really, Mikhail’s as volatile as a ticking time bomb.

"You look familiar," one nurse says with a smile to Polina, probably trying to ease the tension in the room.

"I was in here recently. I had a clinical.”

The nurse’s eyes widen comically. She’s just realized that Mikhail Romanov’s sister is going into nursing. I don’t blame her. This could mean a lot of things for the staff here.

I put a tentative hand out to her. "He can be really nice when he wants to be," I say quietly.

The nurse laughs. "I’m sure he can," she replies before she pats my arm. “He’s not the first overprotective husband I’ve met.”

Do I enjoy his overprotectiveness? Yeah, I think I do.

"The small talk is great," Mikhail says, his attempt at calming himself down laughable. "But where is the doctor? We’re not getting anywhere."

"We are, sir," the nurse says with a placating smile. "We’ve ruled out poisoning, as you suspected. We’ve also ruled out abdominal distress. The doctor will be in momentarily to explain what’s happening."

Of course, my husband immediately thought Volkov was responsible for my illness. Who could blame him? But I only ate the food Ekatarina herself gave me, and I’ve been socializing so much that I barely ate.

The doctor walks into the room, a tall, black woman with thick hair in a knot at the nape of her neck. She sees Mikhail and smiles. "Mr. Romanov, I believe we’ve met before?"

Mikhail audibly sighs in relief. "Thank fuck. Someone I can trust."

The doctor raises an eyebrow. "Language, Mr. Romanov. This is a family practice here. We see children on the same floor as adults."

Mikhail gives her a sheepish look. "I’m sorry." Polina and I look at each other. Someone giving my husband a dressing down? I need her name and number.

"I don’t often get to say this in a situation like this, but I have good news." She smiles.

Mikhail stands by my side and holds my hand, looking positively stricken. God, the poor man. He’s seen his father die, and I happen to know that he witnessed severe casualties when he was enlisted. I also know he was engaged before me, and the woman he was engaged to ended up mysteriously dead. It seems almost everyone in his life who mattered to him has been killed, so I don’t really half blame him for being out of his mind right now.

"I could use some good news,” he says on a growl. “What is it?”

"Your wife is having a baby." She smiles at me. I stare back at her.

A baby.

Mikhail stares at her, a dazed look coming over his face, another rarity.

I swear, for one second, I’m afraid he’s going to cry. My husband — the most formidable person I’ve ever met in my life. Crying.

It makes tears spring to my own eyes, and a lump form in my throat. I feared this, even half hoped for it, but now that I have the confirmation, I’m not so sure how I feel.

"Then why the pain? Why the bleeding?"

"It’s nothing to fear, Mrs. Romanov. You have what we call a subchorionic hematoma. It’s a collection of blood between the uterine wall and the fetal membrane, honestly, pretty common during pregnancy. Sometimes it does cause abdominal pain, and it does cause bleeding, but it almost always resolves itself on its own without harming you or the baby. We’ll have to monitor you closely to make sure everything progresses as it should, but I have no doubt you’ll be in excellent hands." She nods to Polina and Mikhail.

She’s not wrong. He may have the family doctor move in with us.

"Thank you."

Mikhail pales. He swallows and licks his lips, and when he speaks, his voice is a little husky. "So my wife and the baby are okay?" She nods and gives him a few more words of assurance. "There may be some discomfort, and I’ll provide some recommendations, but she should be fine."

Now that Mikhail realizes that we’re safe, the tension in the room finally lets up. He leans over and holds me.

"I’m sorry, doctor. I know I overreacted."

And now another apology? They say men don’t change, but…

She waves a hand in the air. "I understand your concern."

As the doctor talks to Polina and Mikhail, I lay my head back on the pillow. I’m tired after the events of tonight. And honestly? Relieved that it wasn’t something stupid Volkov’s men did. I don’t want to see my Mikhail preoccupied with revenge.

On the way back home, though, I start to freak out.

I’m…pregnant. I’m having a baby. I’m not ready for this. It’s not just that I’m afraid I won’t be a good enough mother, it’s that I’m taking a whole other step of intimacy with Mikhail.

I feel like even though I’ve gotten to know him a lot better, we still have so much to learn about each other. And it’s absolutely terrifying to me to imagine raising a child in this atmosphere. In this family. What if I don’t want a baby?

I’m quiet on the ride home. I already feel like I am taking a next step I’m not ready for.

But my biggest fear of all? What if he only wants to be with me so I can be his baby mama? What if I am not enough?

My entire life, I’ve battled a fear of not being enough. And now, I’m nothing more than a woman who will bear his child.

But when we get back to the house, I have my doubts. Mikhail leads me in with such tender care, I can’t help but feel maybe he really does love me.

When I first got here, I feared falling in love with the man that had captured me. But now that I know who that man is, a part of me – a very small part of me – can’t really imagine being in love with anybody else. After truly experiencing the full blaze of a heated sun, I can’t go back to the shade of who I was before. I might be burned standing next to my Mikhail Romanov, but I couldn’t imagine my life any other way.

I take Mikhail’s hand when he reaches for me. He leads me up to our house – our house, not just his – and brings me inside. I laugh when he helps me over the threshold.

"OK, Mikhail, when I am like nine months pregnant and huge, maybe then you can help me over the threshold or help me tie my shoelaces or whatever you need to do. But right now? I’m fine. Please."

"Just because you’re pregnant doesn’t mean that I’ll take it any easier on you," he says with what is an attempt at a stern look, but he’s definitely bluffing.

“Hmph.”

"Are you hungry?"

Polina got me a candy bar from the vending machine in the hallway at the hospital, and while it was a quick fix to give me energy then, now I’m starving.

"Any cravings? Aversions?" he asks.

Okay, so he’s being about as cute as Mikhail gets. “Um, I’ve barely wrapped my mind around the possibility of me being pregnant, and I don’t know if I’ve quite gotten to the cravings or aversions part." I shudder. "Definitely not Moscow Morsels."

He grins. Actually grins, and it’s so rare I let myself stare at him, fusing it into my memory for the next time he goes all overbearing asshole on me.

Maybe I am craving something. Something deliciously cheesy and crispy on the edges. My mouth waters. "Pizza sounds excellent right now."

"Good as done. Go lie down. I’ll order the food, and I’ll join you in a minute."

When we get to our bedroom, I kick off my shoes. He stands behind me and silently unzips my dress. When he bares my shoulder to him, he bends and places a kiss right there. Then he walks away toward the bathroom, still talking.

"I’ll have to assemble a team of bodyguards to make sure that you’re safe."

"Mikhail? I already have a team of highly trained bodyguards!"

He pierces me with a stern look and raises an eyebrow at me. "Are you talking back to me?"

My heart immediately thumps. Even pregnant, I have no doubt that he will still demand obedience and respect. He hasn’t gotten a personality transplant, after all.

"I will stop at nothing, Aria. Fucking nothing to make sure that you and our baby are safe."

"I know you will. That’s who you are. That’s what you do."

He’s experienced grave loss in his life, and he’s dedicated to making sure it doesn’t happen again. It’s more than that, though. I remember what Polina told me about his having to marry, securing his family. I remember him telling me that my duty to him was to bear his child.

There’s something more at play here. But tonight, I don’t care.

Tonight I want pizza and a good night’s sleep.

"I’m building you a safe room," he says over the sound of running water.

What is he doing in there? Drawing a bath?

"I’ll have surveillance cameras and reinforced walls, so if there’s any type of threat, you retreat there."

His home is already an absolute bastion of safety. But whatever floats his boat.

“Alright, honey,” I say on a yawn.

When I’m in bed, I’m thinking over how quickly things can change. This morning, I was convinced I had food poisoning. Tonight, I was convinced Volkov poisoned me, and now, I know that one of my greatest fears has actually come true.

I’m pregnant. There’s a baby knitting in my womb at this very minute and my overprotective husband is going to lose his mind.

I lie against the pile of pillows in bed and note that I’m practically floating on them.

"Mikhail? Are there more pillows in here?"

"Of course," he says over his shoulder, his accent thickening. "I called ahead of time and made sure staff put everything you need in here. There’s a body pillow, pregnancy pillows, blankets if you need them, and a call button next to the bed if for some strange reason I’m not here and you need anything else."

Okay, so now he’s getting out of control. But for now, I’m not going to argue because these pillows are quite nice.

“You move fast,” I say with appreciation.

He shrugs. “It’s what I do. What kind of pizza do you want, my love?" he asks from the bathroom. The scent of lavender fills the air. It smells so nice.

"Wherever you got that thin-crust one with the really crispy edges. Pepperoni, please."

"Anything else?"

"My husband here so I can snuggle with him a little bit?" I ask, testing the waters. He peers in the doorway, a boyish smile on his face, his hands anchored on his hips.

"A snuggle? Do I really look like the type that will snuggle?"

He is absolutely the type that will snuggle, we just can’t admit that out loud.

He walks over to me, holding my gaze the entire time, and my heart does a somersault in my chest. When he comes to the bed, he leans down and kisses me. Unlike the usual kiss he gives me, with his hand gripping my neck and my entire body suffused in sensuality, this is a gentle kiss. Just a brush of his lips to mine.

"First, a bath. I want to erase the memory of tonight from your mind and mine.” His voice has softened. What will fatherhood do to Mikhail Romanov?

I feared that I would fall for him, and now...

I love this man.

The realization doesn’t shock me, as I’d think it would, because I’ve known for a little while now. I don’t do anything in halfsies, and neither does he. My commitment to him, the intimacy we’ve forged under fire, the knowledge that who I am matters to him — all of it. I’ve not only fallen head over heels in love with a criminal…I’m having his baby.

I can’t think of that now.

"Bath sounds quite nice, provided it’s followed with⁠—"

"Pizza. I know. It’s already on its way, my love."

My love. It’s new, this little endearment. And he also has little Russian phrases for me. I kind of miss little hacker.

The oversized tub is filled about halfway with suds and steam that smells like lavender. I sink under the hot water, submerging myself fully to my chin. "Are you going to join me?"

"You think I want to smell like lavender?” he asks, crouching beside the tub.

“As if you care. Ha!”

He smiles at me and tweaks a lock of damp hair. “I have a few things to do. I’ll join you for pizza.”

I hear him on the phone in the other room. He’s making lists, barking out commands to his team, likely his brothers.

I don’t exactly know what he’s doing right now, but I hear the phrase, "the best doctors possible," and another phrase, "research the safest equipment." Equipment? I sink under the bubbles for a few seconds. When I come to the surface, my Mikhail is still talking on the phone.

I lie in billows of scented bubbles until I hear a knock on the door. "Our pizza has arrived."

Mikhail helps me out of the bath and towels me off. By now I am used to the way he likes to take care of me, as long as I know I can also take care of myself.

"You can have whatever you want, Aria,” he says as he leads me to bed. "But I do have a team putting together the best dietary plans for a pregnant woman as well. I will make sure that our chef has everything that you need prepared."

I smile. "You’re sweet."

He makes a face like he just ate rotten fruit. "I’m not sweet. Are you crazy?"

“You’re right. You’re definitely not sweet as a personality trait. But this is adorable."

He scowls at me. “Call me cute or sweet or adorable again and see what happens."

"You’d punish a pregnant woman?”

He holds my gaze for a heated beat. "Absolutely."

My heart flips.

When I stare at him with that sexy rush of panic I get when he threatens me, he finally laughs.

He has the nerve to laugh.

“What?” I ask.

“Time for pizza, little hacker.”

I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I needed to hear him call me little hacker again. I probably need him to take me over his knee, too, because I need some normalcy in my life when everything else is a swirl of confusion and fear.

But with the smell of pizza in the room, I can think of nothing else.

We eat crispy pizza on paper plates and talk about the party. “How did it go? Did they auction everything off?”

“Absolutely. My mother doesn’t let anything ruffle her. She made sure the auction still happened and they earned five point two million for the children’s hospital.”

I whistle. “Wow, that’s amazing. The Romanov Philanthropists it is, then.”

He winks at me and takes the crust I tossed into the pizza box. He eats it in one bite. “Exactly.”

“And did Volkov pull any more asshole tricks?”

“Of course, but nothing my brothers couldn’t handle.”

I take another slice of pizza. “I don’t know if I’ve ever hated anyone, but he’s definitely on the list.”

“He’s a man worthy of your hate, Aria.”

“Do you think he’ll leave us alone now that you’ve threatened him?”

He shakes his head. “No. You’re in the worst danger of all now.”