Wreckless Engagement: The Russian Engagement Series

by K. Marie

“That’s ridiculous, Garland, I’m not marrying you just because I’m pregnant. Been there, done that, and it doesn’t work,” I told him.

  But he only brushed my words aside. “If you are aborting our child because of me, don’t. If you are intending to have the child, then we will marry; anything less would be unacceptable,” he dictated.

  The nerve! The man’s arrogance is colossal. What time period did he think we were living in?

  “You can’t force me to marry you because I’m pregnant, you ever hear of free will?” I asked indignantly.

  Garland stepped closer to me; intentionally crowding my space with only about a ten-inch gap separating us, and I had to force myself not to step back in self-preservation. I’m no shrinking violet; Garland doesn’t scare me, but that dangerous glint in his eyes did give me pause.

  “It appears you’re operating under a misconception, so allow me to disabuse you of those notions,” he said, stony voice matching his eyes. “Never tell me what I can’t do, because I’ll always prove you wrong. Never invite me to a challenge, because I always get what I want without exception. So, I suggest you choose your battles wisely, sweetheart, because you’ll always find yourself on the losing end of one with me,” the arrogant bastard said.

  I simply gawked in astonishment; while he regarded me as though letting his narcissistic words sink into my slow brain.

  But he apparently wasn’t finished.

  “No child of mine will be born into this world a bastard, nor will there be shared custody or split holidays. My child will be raised in the same home as me and will have two full-time parents. If you are intending to keep the baby, I will accept no lesser terms than those,” Garland said with all the finality of a dictator.

  I stood rooted to the spot—gazing into the frosty eyes of a man I didn’t recognize, and not knowing whether to laugh, cry, or to be afraid.

  Perhaps I should do all three. Did he seriously just say that shit?

  The bad part is, I knew he’d actually meant it.

  I shook my head in bewilderment; admittedly at a loss as to what to say in the face of his Neanderthal-like arrogance. But anger and tears eventually win.

  “Then it’s a good thing I won’t be keeping the baby, because its father is a major asshole!” I screamed irately, shoving against his chest in anger.

  This can’t be happening…please tell me I’m going to wake-up and this nightmare will be over. I prayed silently.

  Garland’s an ass-hat—a surprisingly scary one when he’s pissed, but I refuse to let him intimidate or run roughshod all over me. We stood simply glaring at each other, neither of us willing to back down from our stances. I might not be an entitled tyrant, but I wasn’t completely without recourse. I did have a choice, and I was choosing to exercise it.

  As though in rebuke of my thoughts, my already unstable stomach suddenly churned with nausea, indicating I was about to be sick. “I don’t feel well…I think I need to sit down,” I murmured, growing increasingly queasy.

  Garland’s glare turned instantly to concern. “Of course, Camry, but I’m coming with you,” he said, moving aside to let me by.

  I didn’t comment as I went to unlock my front door, leaving him to follow me or not once I’d entered. The man is like a steamroller, and it would take far more energy than I had to fight him on it.

  I headed immediately to the small half-bath off the front hallway. Shutting the door behind me, I collapsed to my knees, and lost the small amount of breakfast I’d managed to get down that morning.

  Thirty-One

  When I finally emerge from the bathroom, I didn’t see Garland, but I knew he was still here.

  I headed upstairs to the main bathroom to brush my teeth, and to make myself presentable before facing him again. I’d dressed for yoga this morning, only to change my mind after dropping Autumn off. I just didn’t have it in me today.

  Ditching the yoga clothes, I threw on a pair of shorts and a tank top, before steeling myself to head back downstairs and deal with my mess. But, I stopped short halfway down the stairs, when what I’d just been thinking suddenly hit me full-force.

  My mess? I’m carrying a baby inside of me, a life, not a mess. What in the hell is wrong with me?

  I plopped my butt down hard on the stairs, all the air and fight instantly sucked out of me like a deflating balloon. My chest started to tighten, a heavy pressure suddenly bearing down on it as I struggled to breathe. I panicked, clearly hyperventilating, possibly having a panic attack.

  All this time since finding out I’m pregnant, I’d been in panic-mode. I had been freaking out over being pregnant, freaking out over telling Garland. Since the very beginning, I viewed the baby as something bad, as some terrible misfortune that had befallen me.

  I never really stopped to think about the tiny person growing inside my body.

  I can’t breathe.

  Dropping my head between my knees, I focused on sucking air into my lungs, as I had a silent freak-out.

  Garland asked whether I was terminating the pregnancy for him or for myself, and at that moment, I would have sworn it was for both of us. But, I would have been lying. I didn’t want to admit that I’d merely been holding onto that belief as justification. Because if I got rid of the baby because its father didn’t want it, what would I have to feel guilty about? Garland’s rejection of the baby hurt, but I also wasn’t ready to have another child. I’ve spent the past six days telling myself I had to terminate, convincing myself that it had to be done. But up until this moment, I’d been only kidding myself.

  I couldn’t do it.

  I knew that I wouldn’t have gone through with it tomorrow.

  Abortion went against everything I’ve been taught and believed in. I didn’t even terminate when I got pregnant with Autumn at barely age twenty. I was angry at Garland, and afraid, I was desperate and hurt. I’m still all of those things, but I’m also an adult who has to face the consequences of her reckless actions responsibly.

  I can’t breathe.

  Struggling to breathe, I tried desperately to pull more air into my lungs as my reality came crashing down around me.

  I’m going to have a baby.

  And oh God…the baby’s father is a tyrannical megalomaniac.

  “Camry?”

  I started at his voice. Pulling my head from between my knees, I saw Garland standing at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Are you okay?” he asked in concern.

  Am I okay? I wanted to laugh.

  Hell, no I’m not okay! I’m fucking pregnant, and my boyfriend is possibly psycho.

  But, I don’t say that, of course. “Yes, I’m okay. Just morning sickness, I guess,” I told him with a shrug.

  “Can I get you anything?” he offered.

  I looked at Garland suspiciously, wondering if my normal boyfriend had returned.

  “I think a baby is more than enough, but thanks for asking,” I told him, then started to laugh like a crazy person. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.

  But, my laugh soon turned to tears, tears of disbelief, and tears of resignation.

  “Camry…” Garland called softly, voice closer than it was before.

  I lifted my head to see him on his knees in front of me, a couple of stairs below. “Tell me what I can do to make this better, sweetheart, I can’t bear seeing you like this,” he said imploringly.

  My multiple personality routine was undoubtedly worrying. “I’m okay, Garland, I was just having a moment,” I said, swiping at my tears.

  Pulling myself together, I focused on his tired, troubled face, noticing for the first time that he had a bruise right below his left cheekbone.

  “What happened to your face?” I asked, reaching out to touch him for the first time in six days.

  He didn’t react when I touched it, so it must have been at least several days old.

  “Viktor happened,” he said cryptically, a hint of humor in his eyes.

  I cocked a brow in question.
/>   “I picked a fight I didn’t win,” he elaborated.

  I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant; and decided I probably didn’t want to know. However, the fact that I’d just painted a target on Viktor’s back told me all I needed to know. The megalomaniac might be an ass-hat, but, I guess he’s my ass-hat.

  I’d figure out how best to deal with Garland’s crazy. “Come on, let’s get off of these stairs,” I murmured.

  We went into the kitchen, where I scrounged around in the refrigerator for something suitable for lunch.

  I didn’t have much of an appetite but knew I should at least try to eat something. I also knew I’d need to start prenatal vitamins right away.

  As I proceeded to make my own version of turkey club sandwiches, Garland sat quietly watching me; as though I were an alien performing a task he didn’t quite understand. We hadn’t said a word to each other since leaving the stairs, so perhaps he was trying to figure out how I’d flipped from being crazy-lady to the sandwich-lady. But I always grew silent when mentally working out something important.

  Once I’ve finished toasting bread, slicing lettuce and tomatoes, and microwaving bacon, I quickly assembled everything and slapped a couple of dill pickles onto each plate. When I joined Garland at the table, he gave his sandwich a dubious look.

  “You aren’t trying to poison me, are you?” he asked.

  “Not yet, I may need you around a while,” I answered.

  He eyed me curiously; but didn’t say anything as he picked-up half of his sandwich and took a bite of it. Either the sandwich is good, or he was starving, because he polished off the entire thing before leaning back in his chair and regarding me across the table.

  “Why are you being suddenly nice to me, I thought I was on your shit-list?” he asked.

  “You are. But I don’t want to fight with you, Garland, it’s non-productive,” I answered.

  He studied me as if I’d just given him a riddle to solve. “And…are we avoiding discussing the baby to keep from fighting?” he inquired in a cautious tone, as though suspecting me unstable.

  I tried not to smile; I’d probably given him good reason to be suspicious.

  Laying my sandwich back onto the plate, I considered him soberly. “I’m not avoiding discussing the baby, I’ve only been thinking,” I told him, measuring my words. Lord knows I wanted to get through this conversation without releasing his Kraken again.

  “And have you arrived at any conclusions?” he asked

  I had already made my decision, but I still hesitated, shoring up my resolve.

  Here goes. “I concluded I’ve made my bed, and now I have to lie in it. So, congratulations Garland, you’re going to be a father,” I told him.

  He sat simply peering at me.

  Despite what Garland said outside a short while ago about keeping the baby, I wondered if I had just put into words his worst nightmare.

  My avoidance of him this past week prevented us from discussing the other big elephant in the room. What in the world happened to his family? More importantly, why did he blame himself? I’d gone looking for information online but could find no mention of it. I had many questions; and knew that discussion was bound to be a difficult one. But we had to get through this one first.

  “Then we’re in agreement, Camry, I stand by your decision one-hundred percent,” Garland finally said.

  Here goes again. “I’m not letting you bully me into marriage. I understand your position, and agree with its logic, but besides it being ridiculous, I won’t enter into a marriage of convenience,” I asserted, then held my breath waiting for the epic battle to begin.

  If his reaction was anything like outside, we were in for a long one.

  “I somehow doubt there’ll be anything convenient about being married to you,” Garland said with an air of certainty. “Your stubbornness goes far beyond what some might consider wise. However, you can agree to marry me now, or I’ll convince you later. Either way, we’ll raise the child together,” he contended.

  Just when I thought on the off-chance he might be somewhat amenable. I thought sardonically, doing a mental eye-roll.

  I decided to just give it up for now, engaging in a battle of wills with him seemed both pointless and exhausting. So, rethinking my strategy, I decided to take a different tact.

  “Tell me what happened to your family,” I said somewhat reluctantly, hesitant to broach such a sensitive topic.

  It pained me to see the flicker of sorrow in his eyes; the green darkening with an emotion I couldn’t even begin to understand. I don’t know what I’d been expecting for him to reveal, but when he next spoke, his words chilled me to the bone.

  “They were murdered,” Garland told me, words spoken quietly, unemotionally.

  I stared at him partly in disbelief, partly in horror. Jesus.

  “How—why?” I asked in confusion, trying to comprehend something so heinous. “And why did you say that it was your fault?” I questioned.

  Garland couldn’t possibly be responsible for his family’s death.

  “It’s my fault because I failed to protect them,” he said with conviction.

  I recalled suddenly, everything he’d said to me previously; both here and in Miami, about his avoidance of relationships and fatherhood. Now it all made sense.

  “How long has it been?” I asked, wondering just how long he’d been punishing himself.

  “Eight years, five months, six days,” he answered, heartbreakingly specific.

  I imagined such tragedy to be something never far from one’s heart.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?” I asked softly, not wanting to push him on it. I could see how much torment it was causing him, could practically feel it.

  “No,” he confirmed, unsurprisingly.

  I had to swallow my disappointment. I wanted to know everything, needed to know, but I also knew that I would have to be patient and wait him out. For Garland, discussing it was likely akin to reliving it.

  However. “Considering everything that happened—your views on relationships and children, how can you not end up resenting an unwanted child; or even a wife for that matter?” I asked curiously. It didn’t seem something a person could just magically be okay with.

  “Because sometimes, Camry, we don’t know what we want until we’ve got it,” he answered. “I’m hardly an optimist, but do you consider that sometimes things happen for a reason?” he asked.

  That was a surprising question, Garland was as far from being an idealist as it gets. In his world, nothing happened without his orchestration or approval.

  “And what would that reason be?” I asked, riveted.

  He gave me a puzzling look, as if not so sure of the answer himself. But seeming to give it serious deliberation, he stared off in thought a moment.

  I sat watching as his gaze seemed to become unfocused, and the fingers of his left hand began to drum a steady cadence on top of the table. My eyes became fixated on those fingers. And it was as if someone had suddenly switched the slide of a movie projector, that I found myself instantly transported back to Miami. To the man I’d met that first night there.

  Garland was striking, and not just for his gorgeousness, but for the sheer air of confidence and power that he’d worn like an expensive suit. He was a man comfortable in his own skin, one who knew his rightful place in the world, and was used to things going his way.

  It was sexy as hell; I’d been both wowed and enthralled.

  But, I was struck now by the contrast, as I followed the drumming of his fingers with my eyes. It was a nervous gesture, and one totally out of character for him. A nervous Garland seemed an anomaly, revealed an unexpected vulnerability.

  “I just spent the past six days calling myself a damn fool,” Garland said after a moment, eyes now focused back on me.

  “And do you want to know why, Camry? he asked. “Because in the past eight years, I determinedly avoided everything I’ve done with you the past two months. Those we
re a lot of firsts for me, yet, I never gave a second thought to doing any of those things with you,” he told me.

  My heart slammed hard in my chest, a sudden surge of warmth infusing my body as his words served to melt away my defenses like a heat-seeking missile.

  Seriously? That’s how he’s going to play it?

  “So, what exactly are you saying, Garland?” I asked, throat feeling as though it were beginning to close.

  Dammit…I won’t cry. These damn pregnancy hormones have turned me into a virtual watering pot.

  Garland rose from his chair and stood in front of me. “Come here,” he said, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet.

  “I see you’re fighting dirty again,” I accused, trying my damnedest to remain cool. It wouldn’t do to show complete weakness.

  “All is fair in love and war,” he replied, repeating a ridiculous idiom.

  It was damn effective too. Garland employed all the weapons in his arsenal when waging complete emotional warfare.

  I must have lowered my gaze, because I felt Garland’s fingers smooth the straggling hairs away from my face, before traveling back further and tugging at my ponytail. He tilted my head back until I’m once again looking him in the eye.

  “Have you not been listening to me?” he asked. “I knew the moment I laid eyes on you and couldn’t walk away, you’d somehow change my world irrevocably. So, pay attention, sweetheart, because I’m going to say it in both Russian and English so that you don’t miss it,” Garland said, heated eyes boring into mine.

  “Ya Lyublyu Tebya,” he uttered, the foreign words sounding exotic in his native tongue.

  “That means I love you in Russian, and now I’ll repeat it in English. I love you, Camry, and it seems there’s no time limit on when it can happen. Marry me, and I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret it,” Garland said, completely decimating me.

  Dammit…I didn’t see that nuclear weapon coming at all.

  Part Two

  Revelations

  “Hate the sin, love the sinner”