Chapter 28

Laura

I WAKE up disoriented, my mind fuzzy and my body aching in places I didn’t know could ache. For a long moment, I just blink at the unfamiliar ceiling, trying to piece together the fragments of last night.

Where am I?

This isn’t the room I fell asleep in.

At least, I don’t think it is.

Everything after the third or fourth earthshaking orgasm is kind of a blur.

Gingerly, I shift, taking stock of my surroundings. The bed is sinfully soft, the sheets cool and smooth against my bare skin.

As I sit up, a scent wafts up from me. That cool, crisp scent of Victor’s cologne mixed with something headier. Something primal. It clings to me like a second skin, a reminder of everywhere he touched me. Everywhere he claimed me.

A shiver runs through me, my body clenching at the memory.

God, the things he did to me last night. The way he played my body like a finely tuned instrument, wringing pleasure from me until I thought I might actually die from it.

I can still feel the ghost of his hands on me, his mouth. The rasp of his stubble against my thighs, the hot silk of his tongue as he—

A loud buzz shatters the sensory memory. I jump, my heart slamming against my ribs. It takes me a disoriented second to realize it’s a phone vibrating insistently on the nightstand.

Wait. A phone?

It is a phone. A sleek, shiny rectangle of tech that probably costs more than my rent. It looks wildly out of place in my clumsy, sleep-numbed grip.

I glance around, waiting for Victor to jump out and chew me out for messing with the phone… but the room’s empty.

The phone buzzes again, insistent. Biting back a curse, I scan the screen. A text from an unknown number.

First message: “This phone is yours.”

Second message: “Do not share the number with anyone else. - Victor.”

I blink. Read it again.

What the hell?

He gives me a phone, then tells me not to use it?

Annoyance flares in my chest, chasing away the residual haze of lust. Of course, he’d find a way to micromanage me, even from afar. God forbid I have a way to contact the outside world without his permission.

I’m half-tempted to text him back with a strongly worded opinion about where he can stick his fancy new phone. But before I can fully indulge in that little fantasy, a familiar voice drifts up from outside.

“Lu Lu!” Ser’s voice is muffled through the window. “Drag your butt down here, Sleeping Beauty!”

Crap.I forgot I’m not alone here.Gingerly, I sit up, wincing at the twinge between my legs. Apparently, multiple toe-curling orgasms come with a price.

Yup, there it is. The deep, pleasant ache between my thighs, the throb of well-used muscles. I feel like I’ve been on a sex marathon. Which, let’s be real, isn’t that far off from the truth.

I limp to the window, trying to work out the kinks in my stride. The view outside makes me pause, my mouth falling open.

Ser is lounging on a picnic blanket in the middle of a freaking vineyard, looking like something out of a catalog. Next to her, James is bouncing little Lucas on his knee, grinning as the kid shrieks with laughter.

It’s like a scene from a movie. Or a hallucination. Maybe Victor fucked me into a coma, and this is all some elaborate dream.

But the breeze ruffling my hair feels real enough. So does the insistent throbbing between my legs.

Okay, then. Guess this is my life now.

“I’ll be down in a sec,” I call to Ser, my voice raspier than I’d like.

First order of business: a shower. I hobble to the bathroom, praying my legs will hold me. The tub is a massive marble monstrosity that I would probably try to marry if I didn’t think Victor would object.

Catching sight of myself in the mirror, I grimace. I look like I’ve been dragged backward through a very satisfied hedge. My hair’s a rat’s nest, my skin littered with marks and stubble burn.

Hi there, Conquest #473. Glad you enjoyed your complimentary fuck.

After a shower that goes a long way toward making me feel human again, I discover a suitcase full of clothes in the closet. All my size. All disgustingly expensive-looking. I don’t want to think about how Victor managed that.

Boundaries, thy name is not Morozov.

I throw on a sundress and finger-comb my wet hair, too hungry to bother with more. The stairs are a special kind of torture, but I grit my teeth and push through. No way am I giving Ser any more ammunition.

“Well, well, well, look what the sex kitten dragged in,” she drawls when I finally make it to the backyard.

I flip her off, collapsing onto the blanket with a groan. “Shut it, harlot.”

She just grins, unrepentant. “Sounded like you had a long night, babes.”

If the earth wanted to swallow me whole, now would be a great time. I can feel the heat blooming in my cheeks, and it has nothing to do with the merciless sun overhead.

“Seriously, though,” Ser says, her grin turning sly. “You’ve hit the jackpot, Lu. Marrying a sex-god billionaire Russian mafia boss? That’s like, the holy trinity of paranormal romance novel heroes.”

James snorts into his wineglass. “Don’t forget the part where he’s also a secret werewolf prince with a tragic past.”

“Ooh, good one, babe.” Serena high-fives him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I smell a bestseller. Pun fully intended.”

I groan, burying my burning face in my hands. “I hate you both.”

“No, you don’t,” Ser sing-songs. She bounces Lucas on her knee, cooing, “Your god-ma Lu Lu loves us, doesn’t she? Yes, she does!”

“Yes, she does!” Lucas parrots, giggling. He makes grabby hands at me, his chubby little face split in a gummy smile.

Despite my embarrassment, I can’t help but melt a little. Scooping him up, I blow a raspberry on his cheek, making him squeal with laughter.

“Traitor,” I mutter, but I’m grinning as I settle him on my lap.

Ser just smirks, taking a sip of her wine. She looks out over the vineyard, her expression turning wistful. “Can’t believe this is really happening. Our little Lu, all grown up and married to a kinky oligarch. It’s like something out of a movie.”

I snort. “More like a horror flick.”

But even as I say it, my traitorous brain conjures up images of last night. The way Victor touched me, possessed me, made me feel things I didn’t know were possible. The ghost of his hands on my skin, his scent clinging to me like a brand…

I whip my head around, eyes darting for any sign of Victor.

Stop looking for him, Laur.

Suddenly, a loud growl shatters the memory. I freeze, my face flaming as I realize it came from my stomach.

“Hungry?” Ser asks innocently.

“Starving,” I mutter. “I could eat a horse. Hell, a whole herd of horses.”

As if on cue, Sergei appears, carrying a huge tray laden with food. The scent of coffee and bacon and something buttery and sweet wafts over to us, making my mouth water.

“Dobroe utro, Madam Morozova,” he greets me with a small bow. “I trust you slept well?”

I practically choke on my own spit. Madam Morozova? Jesus, that makes me sound like some kind of Russian mob wife. Which, I guess, technically, I am.

“Um, yes, thank you,” I stammer.

Sergei just nods, like this is all totally normal. He sets the tray down on the blanket, revealing a spread that wouldn’t look out of place in a gourmet magazine. There’s a carafe of coffee, a pitcher of orange juice, a basket of flaky pastries, and more breakfast meats than I can count.

“This looks amazing,” I breathe, my stomach giving another impatient gurgle. “Thank you so much, Sergei.”

He gives me a small smile. “Master Morozov wanted to ensure you had a proper meal before your journey.”

I freeze with a piece of bacon halfway to my mouth. “Journey?”

“Yes, he’s arranged for the helicopter to take you back to New York this afternoon. After tea, of course.”

Of course. Can’t forget the tea. I bet it’s served in gold-plated cups with little pinky extensions, too.

“Right,” I say faintly. “Silly me.”

Sergei’s smile turns understanding. “Master Morozov apologizes for not being here himself to see you off. Urgent business with Mr. Mikhailov, I’m afraid.”

“I bet,” Serena mutters. She gives me a significant look over the rim of her glass, her eyebrows waggling.

I pointedly ignore her, turning back to Sergei. “Um, that’s fine. I understand. Thanks for letting me know.”

He nods again. “Of course, madam. Please enjoy your breakfast. And let me know if you need anything else.” He gestures to the spread before us. “Master Morozov also requested I open a bottle of the Domaine Leroy Musigny Grand Cru for you. An excellent vintage, one of our finest Pinot Noirs.”

I glance at the liquid in Ser’s glass, my stomach churning. The thought of drinking anything alcoholic right now makes me want to hurl.

“I think I’ll stick with juice for now, thanks,” I say weakly.

Sergei bows and takes his leave, melting back into the house like a well-trained shadow.

I dig into the breakfast feast with gusto, my stomach rejoicing at finally being fed. The pastries are buttery and flaky, the bacon perfectly crisp, the eggs light and fluffy. It’s like something out of a gourmet cookbook.

“Slow down there, Lu,” Ser laughs. “No one’s gonna take it away from you.”

“Can’t help it,” I mumble around a mouthful of croissant. “Starving.”

She just shakes her head, sipping her drink. But there’s a speculative gleam in her eye that makes me pause mid-chew.

“What?”

She purses her lips, studying me over the rim of her glass. “Nothing. Just… you’re hungrier than usual, that’s all.”

I swallow my bite, washing it down with a swig of orange juice. “So? I worked up an appetite last night.”

Ser’s expression doesn’t change. “Uh-huh. Right. That’s totally the reason.”

Something about her tone makes my stomach flutter. And not in the good, pastry-induced way.

“What are you getting at, Ser?”

She sets down her glass, leaning forward. “I’m just saying, it’s a little weird, don’t you think? The fatigue, the puking, the sudden increase in appetite…”

My heart skips a beat. “What? No. No way.”

But even as I say it, my mind is racing. Doing the mental math. Counting back days and weeks and—

Shit.

Ser’s watching me, her eyes knowing. “Lu? You okay?”

I open my mouth. Close it. My palms are suddenly clammy, my pulse racing.

“I’m fine,” I say, but it comes out hoarse. Strained. “I’m not… I can’t be…”

“Can’t be what?” James asks, oblivious. He’s got Lucas on his lap, making funny faces to entertain him.

I shake my head. “Nothing. Never mind.”

But Ser’s not letting it go. She leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Lu. Babe. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

I press my lips together, my stomach churning. Because yeah, I am. And the thought is enough to make me break out in a cold sweat.

No way. There’s just no fucking way. I took pills, too many pills.

There’s no way I’m pregnant. I mean, I followed the rules, didn’t I? This is just my body playing tricks on me. It has to be. Pregnancy is not on my list, not with Victor Morozov.

Ser’s still watching me, her gaze heavy with meaning. I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry.

“I think,” I say slowly, “that I need to find a drugstore. Like, now.”