12. ISABELLA

Chapter 12

ISABELLA

The dim glow of the fog lights cast an eerie shadow, barely illuminating the path ahead. Andrey’s steady hand guides the car down the bumpy road as I hold my breath and keep turning to ensure there are no lights behind us.

After what feels like an eternity, the farmhouse looms before us. Andrey does what Rose instructed, and we head right past it. The road smoothes out into what seems to be a driveway, and Andrey turns on the full beams. The sudden brightness floods the area, clearly revealing the path ahead.

“How do you think they found us?”

“I don’t think they found us,” Andrey tells me. “I think, like Konstantin, they followed the breadcrumb trails you left to the Land Cruiser, which was on the same road we were taking to the border.”

“Shit!” I blow out a breath. “Of course they would. I’m sorry.”

“No.” Andrey gives me a quick glance, and I see pride in his eyes. “You did the right thing. But Temur is an excellent tracker. In fact, I think he’d give the Polar Bear a run for his money.”

“Polar Bear?” My brow knits.

“One of my men,” Andrey explains. “Then Konstantin found out you’d done a money transfer from one of your bank accounts.”

“How the fuck did he find that out?” I hiss in alarm. “No one knows about that account.”

“Your brother does,” Andrey informs me as we hit the end of the farm road and we head west on the road. “Here goes nothing.” He gives me a tight smile. “I hope you’re right about your new friend, Rose.”

Fuck, I’m going to have to fix that shit. I bite the side of my mouth, making a mental note to look into how my brother found out about that account.

About two miles later, we turn onto Beebe Road, and it’s not long before the border control can be seen ahead of us as the sleek black Mercedes glides over the road. Its tinted windows shield us from curious eyes.

We pull up to the border checkpoint, the massive “WELCOME TO CANADA” sign looming above us. The area is quiet in the early morning hours, save for the distant hum of vehicles and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

My heart pounds as we inch closer to the booth and stop. Andrey slides the window as a man approaches us. The border guard, a middle-aged man with a stern face, steps up to our window. I flash a polite smile as Andrey turns towards him.

“Good evening,” the guard says, peering at us through the window. “Destination?”

“Montreal,” Andrey replies smoothly.

The guard’s gaze lingers on us for a moment. I try not to squirm and hope I don’t look guilty as his eyes search us. It feels like he’s looking for any hint of deceit, and I try not to think about the guns we have hidden beneath our seats.

You’ve done nothing wrong, Isabella. We’re just on holiday . But still, I hold my breath, trying to keep my expression calm and composed.

“Purpose of your visit?” the guard continues.

“My wife wanted to honeymoon in Canada.” Andrey doesn’t flinch as the lie slips skilfully from his lips. “He grins and pulls the sonogram from his pocket. We may not be able to travel for a while soon, so it’s now or next time we’re here, there will be dual baby seats.”

The guard features soften. “Congratulations. I have three myself.” Satisfied with Andrey’s answer, he asks, “Passport, please.”

Andrey hands over our passports, watching as the man inspects them under the overhead light. The seconds turn into what feels like hours to me.

I have to stop myself from shifting nervously in my seat while Andrey is as calm and composed as ever.

The guard finally hands the passports back. “Enjoy your stay in Canada. Drive safely.” He smiles at me. “Take care of those babies.”

“Thank you,” Andrey says, sliding the passports back into the compartment between the seats.

As we drive away from the checkpoint, I exhale slowly, finally releasing my breath as relief floods me.

“It’s okay.” Andrey turns toward me and smiles before teasing me. “You’ll get used to your new life of crime in the dark underbelly of the world.”

A nervous laugh escapes my lips as we head for Stanstead. I take a minute to relax before telling him.

“There’s a motel just as we enter Stanstead. We’ll book in there and get changed into other clothes.” My head swivels toward the back of the car. I see a duffel bag, reach over, and get it as we hit Stanstead. I smile as I rummage through the bag. “I see Konstantin instructed Rodrigo well.” I show Andrey the wigs. “We’ll need to put those on and leave through the back door of the room.”

“There are back doors in a motel room?” Andrey looks at me in disbelief.

Laughing, I tell him, “When we book in we’ll ask for room 105. It’s on the ground floor and has a back door exit to the pool area.” A shudder rips through me. “Although I wouldn’t actually want to swim in it.”

“What? I don’t get a fake mustache?” Andrey looks at the items in my hand, making me smile. “So we put on our wigs and head out the back door to…”

“It’s a short walk into town through the park behind the motel, and there are no cameras.”

“Is that the motel?” Andrey points to The Roadside Family Motel.

“Yup!”

“Isn’t it going to look odd pulling into the motel in our Mercedes?” Andrey pulls into the parking lot, and his brows raise as he glances around. “Okay, maybe not.”

“I think this is more of a family-up break motel.” My face splits into a smile. “They rent rooms by the hour.”

“Oh!” Andrey nods in understanding. “That would explain all the fancy cars.”

“It’s quite full, too.” My brow furrows. “I hope the room I want is available.”

We park, and Andrey takes everything from the car, including a picnic basket and duffel bag.

“A picnic basket?” My brows shoot up in surprise.

“Rodrigo must’ve packed it.”

The person on duty doesn’t seem too interested in us. He takes the cash for the room for the night from Andrey without even asking for our names.

“Is room 105 available?” I ask the man.

“Sure.” He nods. “That’s an extra twenty tough.”

Andrey doesn’t argue with the man. He nods and hands him another twenty. We take the key and head to the room.

Inside, the room is basic but clean, with two double beds and a small bathroom. The back door leads to the pool area.

“We need to get dressed in different clothes. In my go bag at the station, there will be new identities for us, and we’ll be taking the bus to Montreal.”

“We have a perfectly good car!” Andrey’s eyes widen.

“No.” I shake my head. “We can’t take that. There are cameras at the border crossing, and the guard scanned our passports.”

“That’s true.” Andrey sighs. “But we should have a shower!” He glances pointedly at my stomach, and his eyes darken with desire. “We both need to freshen up, and you need to relieve some… stress .”

“We don’t really have time.” My head turns toward the door. “Those men could be right behind us.” My head turns to the bathroom, and my clit starts to throb, thinking about Andrey in the shower with me.

“Fuck it,” Andrey growls, his gaze lingering on my stomach with a hungry glint. “We need a shower. You’re wound up tight, and I’m going to help you loosen up.” He grabs my hand, pulling me toward the bathroom. Before raising one eyebrow. “It will help keep the morning sickness at bay.”

“But Andrey, those men—“ I start to protest, casting a nervous glance at the door. To my surprise, the threat of danger only heightens my arousal, my clit pulsing in anticipation.

Andrey cuts me off, flipping on the shower with a determined expression. “There’s always time for a shower, Isabella,” he says, pinning me with an intense stare that leaves me breathless. His hands move to my clothes, tearing them off with an urgency that sends shivers down my spine.

Once we’re both naked, Andrey lifts me effortlessly, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. My nipples graze his chest, hardening at the contact. He captures my mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue demanding entry as his hands grip my ass roughly.

The hot water cascades over us, only adding to the intensity of our connection. Andrey’s cock presses against my entrance, and I can’t help but rock my hips, desperate for him to fill me. He chuckles darkly, pulling back to look at me with hooded eyes.

“You want this, don’t you, Isabella?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly. “You want me to fuck you until you scream?”

I nod frantically, biting my lip as I gaze up at him. Andrey smirks, slamming me against the shower wall as he thrusts into me with one swift motion. I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders as he starts to move, each stroke hitting me deeper than the last.

Andrey’s hands roam over my body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He pinches my nipples, tugging on them roughly as he grinds his pelvis against my clit. I can feel myself spiraling closer to the edge, my orgasm building with each passing second.

“Cum for me, Isabella,” Andrey commands, his voice laced with dominance as his thumb presses against my swollen clit. “I want to feel you tighten around my cock as you scream my name.”

His words send me over the edge, my body convulsing as I cum hard and fast. Andrey follows shortly after, his release filling me as he groans my name. We stand there for a moment, panting and spent before Andrey finally pulls out and sets me down gently.

As we wash each other off, I can’t help but feel a sense of contentment wash over me. Despite the danger lurking just outside the door, I know that as long as I’m with Andrey, I’ll be safe—I put the doubt about our different outlooks and upbringing aside. For now, I need him. When this is all over, I’ll worry about the future.

My legs still feel like jelly when we’re dressed, and I can’t help but grin when I see Andrey in his sandy blond wig.

“Blond suits you.”

“You look good too.” He reaches out and straightens the straight black bobbed wig. “There. Perfect.” He kisses my forehead. “I wish we had time for me to show you just how perfect.”

My pussy, still tender from the shower, clenches, and I know I’m getting wet again as my clit pulses greedily. Fuck! I’ve turned into a nympho! It’s the pregnancy, I remind myself. Stacy warned me it tended to make women horny, forgetful, and want weird shit to eat in between running to pee a lot more.

“Haven’t we just had sex?” I feel my cheeks heat a little at the look he gives me.

“Oh, princess…” Andrey sighs. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

My heart jolts, but I swallow down the sensation that grips my heart and makes my breath catch in my throat. Slow down there, Isabella , I warn myself. This truce and getting along with Andrey is just temporary until all this shit has been sorted out. I don’t know what I’m going to do after that, and I’m still sure I can’t live in this world.

I step aside and walk to the dressing room, taking my mother’s locket and shoving it in my pocket. I can’t put it on in case we get photographed somewhere. You can’t have anything on you that you can be identified by . The voice of my survival specialist coach rings in my head. I look in the mirror and notice how tight the jeans and shirt that were in the duffel Rodrigo had paced for us.

“I think when we pass a smaller town after Montreal, I need to get some new go clothes.” I do a twirl for him to see how snug my jeans and top are.

“Fuck.” Andrey sucks in a breath. “You look amazing to me.” His eyes travel over my body like a caress. “We should keep the wig and get you a nurse’s outfit,” he teases.

My eyes fall on his crotch, and I see the bulge grow in his jeans. My pussy instantly reacts once again with a little throb, and just like that, desire starts to swirl through me again. Jesus, it’s not just the pregnancy—I’m a fucking nympho!

“We should go.” My voice is squeaky as I start stuffing our clothes and transferring things from my shopping bag into the duffel. “You get the picnic basket. Are there sandwiches that I could perhaps eat on the way to the train station?”

“I think so.” Andrey opens the basket and rummages through it. “Do you want a turkey one?” His brow furrows. “Are you still hungry after all those pancakes?”

“Are you food shaming me?” I put the bag across my shoulder, and snatch the turkey sandwich that Andrey took out of the picnic basket.

His brows shoot up. “No.” He shakes his head. “I was asking, that’s all.”

My eyes narrow as I look at him. “Okay.” I turn and head for the back door. “I don’t need you picking on what I eat or how fat I’m getting.”

Before I reach the door, his hand grabs my shoulder, and he spins me around. His eyes are dark with anger. “Let’s get one thing straight.” His voice is low. “I think watching your body grow and swell with my kids is going to be beautiful. While I will watch what you eat to ensure you’re eating properly and nutritiously, I understand you’re going to have cravings.“ He places a hand on my stomach. “That’s not shaming you, Isabella. I would never do that. But I will look after you and our children— always. ”

I nod. “We… uh… need to go.” I really need to start controlling these whiplash emotions that hit me over the weirdest shit that wouldn’t usually bother me.

Andrey lets me go, and I lead the way out of the room, taking a bit of the sandwich as I walk out the back door.

Andrey follows me silently, watching and taking in everything around us. We skirt around the edge of the murky pool, and I shudder, trying not to think about anyone swimming in it.

“God, I really hope parents don’t swim in there, let alone let their kids swim in that.”

“Christ, I hope not.” Andrey eyes the murky water with disgust before taking my free hand in his.

We stroll around the pool with our picnic basket, holding hands and me munching my food, looking like a couple about to go to the park behind the motel for an early morning picnic.

“The parks are nice, at least,” I tell him as we walk across the path and head into the center of town. Our hands stay linked while we walk, and I’m surprised to find that I enjoy feeling connected to Andrey like this.