by Belle Aurora
It felt like I’d been cut in two. “I’ll fix this.”
“No,” my father breathed. “No more fixing. No more rough work. No more anything.” He turned his furious gaze on me and thundered, “No more!”
My heart broke. “I can fix this, Pops,” I tried to explain. “I’ve been trying to fix this.”
My father looked at me then like he didn’t even know me, and it gutted me whole. What he said haunted me. “Who asked you to?”
He slid his arm around my mother’s shaking shoulders and walked her out of the room, out of sight, leaving me alone with my chaotic thoughts, knowing I couldn’t have fucked this up harder if I tried.
Anika
“Eat something.”
I was a little hungry but I was also being defiant. The handsome, dangerous man opposite me kept his fierce gaze on me, and eating suddenly seemed like a good way to get him to stop. So, I lifted my fork, stabbed a piece of the roasted pumpkin and pine nut pasta, and brought it to my mouth. It was delicious, of course, but I refused to show it and give him the satisfaction.
The way he watched me chew in sheer fascination had me lowering my eyes, trying like hell to stop the flush from appearing at my neck.
And in the brief time spent with him, I learned something and learned it fast.
Roam was intense.
After a short amount of silence, I asked carefully, “What do you want from me?”
My mind lit up like a Christmas tree with all the images of the “what ifs” that may be.
Ignoring his own meal, he responded a cool, “Right now, I want you to eat.”
And so I did, because it seemed a hell of a lot better than talking to him. Only once I’d eaten a quarter of my meal did he begin to eat his own, and while he didn’t scarf it down like an animal, he ate in a way that made me think his beginnings were a bit more humble than mine.
I didn’t want to admit I was intrigued by him. I hated to concede that he was good-looking in a way that made my tongue swell. There was something about him though. Something almost… sad.
Our meals eaten, we sat in silence, exchanging inquisitive glances. He sipped at his whisky, holding the tumbler effortlessly in his large hand until the quiet was suddenly suffocating.
“What would you like to talk about?” I asked in an attempt to make him believe I was trying here.
His unexpected response shut me down. “I don’t like to talk much.”
Right. Sure. Because why would he make this easy on me?
I hesitated but found myself saying, “I’m having a hard time figuring out what you want from me—apart from the obvious, that is.”
Roam snuffled out a laugh, and when he said, “I don’t want to have sex with you,” I could have died of mortification, because I really assumed he did. And when he added, “I just want to fuck with your brother. Get inside his head. Make him think I want that.” My brows bunched in puzzlement.
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Because,” he stated starkly, “your brother is a conceited, arrogant man who thinks he’s above me, and I really want to knock him down a peg or two.” He sipped his whisky. “Show him who’s really helping who in this situation.”
Oh God.
I was here because Vik had said something to piss this man off?
Ugh. Figures.
I probably should have kept my opinion to myself. “Sounds like you’re a little conceited yourself.”
He moved his glass under his nose and breathed it in. “I am.”
Okay. Unexpected admission there. “Then you can admit that neither one of you is better than the other.”
Roam blinked at me then, and when his brow lowered, I thought I might have pushed a little too hard. But then he doubled down, and I quickly realized I was not in the presence of a normal man. “No, I am unquestionably the better man.” He placed his glass down, and the move drew me in, demanding my full attention. “Firstly, I would never let my family get into the position yours is in right now. I would have fixed that shit before it even began. Nipped it in the bud before it escalated to a height I could not climb. Secondly, Viktor came to me. He came begging, and I helped. So, I think we can confirm who wields more power here, as here I am, sitting with you while your family loses their fucking minds. And do you know why, princess?”
I was scared to ask.
Roam leaned in a little. “Simply because I desired it.”
A shiver stole down my spine.
Who was this man?
Roam looked down at me, shook his head lightly, and ignored me from then on out. Over the course of the evening, I observed men come to our table. The kind of men I recognized. Men who lived in the darkness of the underworld. And they greeted Roam with reverence, offering their respect.
My anxiety grew.
Not one person spared me a glance. Not one person dared to meet my eyes. And I knew why.
It was because a man like Roam did not have to fight for a woman. It was because they knew I was his, uncontested, until the moment he was bored of me.
The thought had my stomach twisting, but I masked it as best as I could, sitting tall with grace and poise, and when Roam’s dark gaze flittered over me like a slow flame, I felt the warmth of it everywhere.
The restaurant dimmed, and the place started to be packed up around us. I checked my watch and uttered, “It’s getting late,” in the hopes that he would take the hint.
He got it. He just didn’t care. And he did not look at me when he leaned back in his chair and muttered, “Not late enough.”
I tried again. “They’re closing.”
And the hard stare that locked onto me was lethal. “They’ll remain open for me.”
Right. Of course they would.
So, we stayed. We stayed until everyone was gone and the only lit space in the restaurant was the warm light above us along with a small tealight candle flickering in a glass in the center of our table. Time went by, and I lost some of my polish, slinking down into my chair, covering my mouth with the back of my hand, and yawning lightly.
I went from anxious to bored out of my brain.
My eyes ran over the thick silver rings on each of his fingers, the small silver hoop in one ear, the thin, feminine-looking chain and silver crucifix around his neck. His perfectly styled hair, neatly trimmed beard, and his midnight gaze.
Look, I was exhausted, and I blamed what I said partly on that fact. I’d also had a couple of glasses of wine. So, I pondered out loud, “You know, if you’d have asked me out on a date, I might have said yes.”
His gaze softened mildly then, but his words did not match the sentiment. “I don’t date.”
“No.” I looked him over. “I don’t suppose you’d have to.”
And when the understanding of my loose-lipped statement reached him, a slow smile spread his lips, revealing straight white teeth and sharp pointed canines. He winked at me, and my insides did a strange little shimmy.
After what seemed like hours, Roam finally checked his watch, then conceded, “I think we’ve dawdled long enough. They should be nice and irate by now. Time to go.”
Never one to argue with a madman, when he walked around and pulled out my chair, I stood and allowed him to guide me with a hand to my lower back as he thanked the owners, slipping them a wad of bills before he walked me to his car.
The ride home was quiet and uneventful, and when we finally reached my house, I didn’t exit the car until Roam moved around to open my door. He closed it behind me, and because I knew better and didn’t want to piss him off, I waited to be dismissed.
Roam blocked me in with the wall of his body, looked at me a long moment, and his words surprised me. “I’m a pill. The kind that sticks in your throat. Chokes you on the way down.” His brows creased. “And you are not what I thought you would be. You got this whole Grace Kelly thing going on. Classy. Poised.”
Was that a compliment?
God, I wanted this to be over. “I had a nice time.
Thank you.”
He didn’t even attempt to hide his grin. “No, you didn’t, but that’s what I’m talking about. You’re polite. I like that.” His grin fell away to make room for a sudden frown. The words were quietly spoken and made my entire body tingle. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”
Why did that make me feel weak?
A better question was, why did I lick my lips?
Oh no. What was happening here?
Roam’s hooded gaze followed my tongue, and when he moved closer, I forgot to breathe. His face descended, and unconsciously, I reached up to place my hand on his chest. In a daze, I closed my eyes as my fingers glanced the front of his shirt, and when he snatched my wrist, grasping it tight enough to bruise, my eyes snapped open, and I peered up into his vicious expression with my mouth agape.
His nostrils flared as he ground out the words. “I don’t like to be touched.”
Oh my God.
It was as though I was under a spell. My heart raced as I realized what I’d almost done. I almost kissed this psycho.
Was I that desperate for affection?
Jesus. Nobody was that desperate for affection.
My eyes wide, my voice was whisper-soft. “I’m sorry.”
The response seemed to placate him, because his face gentled, and he released me. Stepping back, I discreetly rubbed at the heated area he’d seized, trying to soothe it. And he noticed.
A hundred thoughts went through my mind, and as though he could read each and every one of them, impassive features held me fast as he uttered roughly, “Oh, baby, no. Don’t do it to yourself. Trust me.” He made his way back to the driver side and opened the door, his obsidian gaze dangerously dim. “I can’t be fixed.”
He slid inside, shut the door, and drove away without a backward glance. And yet, I stood there trying desperately to think of what just happened.
The moment I opened the door, Vik was already there, walking the hall, waiting. He strode toward me, and the first thing out of his mouth was “What did he do to you?”
“Nothing.” I dipped my chin, because that wasn’t exactly true. He did something, all right.
He captivated me.
“Anika.” Vik looked crazed as he placed his hands on my shoulders and repeated, “What did he do to you?”
I frowned at my brother, shrugging him off. “Nothing,” I relayed once more with sass.
“You don’t have to protect me. I can take it.”
I shouldered passed him and spoke quietly, “Nothing happened.”
“Bullshit.”
And just as I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth to respond, I came to a standstill.
Why?
Because when I glanced in the living room, I saw them. And my heart shattered with humiliation. Turning back to my brother, I grated out, “I asked you not to call.”
Lev stood from his place on the sofa and took a step toward me. “Are you all right, Anika? I can’t tell.”
God, Lev. Not now.
Sasha glanced down at the coffee table, his jaw tight, his words clinical. “Watch the attitude. He was worried.”
“Worried?” I asked my brother caustically. “You were worried?”
“Of course I was.” He had the nerve to glare at me.
“Well—” I threw my purse down onto the cabinet to my right. “—congratulations. That’s exactly what he wanted, jackass.”
“What?” Vik looked confused.
“Yeah,” I told him. “He never had any intention of using me as his dolly. Hell, he was more interested in getting me to eat.”
Vik shook his head. “No, Anika. You don’t know him. He’s not a good guy.”
“I never said he was, Vik, but I’m telling you. He was messing with you. He told me so himself. Wanted you to be scared, wanted you to know who the better man was. The more powerful man.” At my brother’s harsh frown, I began to nod. “Yeah. He said that. And I sat there all night, conversationless, because the guy doesn’t like to talk. So, you can stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I just lost my freaking innocence, okay?” I yelled, panting in anger. “Nothing happened.” Vik looked at me sadly then, and I couldn’t deal with it. I spun on Sasha, and his cool, golden gaze irked me. “Now you know.” My arms swung out in a wide arc. “I whored myself out to a kingpin, and he didn’t even want me. Happy?”
Sasha did not say a word. No one did.
And as I passed Vik, my voice trembled as I shook my head at him. On the verge of tears, I whispered, “I asked you not to call him.”
Mortified, I made it to my room before the tears fell.
So many thoughts but only one that mattered.
What would Sasha think of me now?
Vik
“It’s time to talk, brother,” Sasha said guardedly.
It was. I could no longer do this on my own. Worn down and broken, I nodded slowly, defeated, knowing I had failed to fix my issues on my own.
And I talked.
27
Nastasia
It was odd, knowing I had a little human growing inside me. I would have thought I’d feel different somehow, but maybe that came later. I don’t know what I thought might happen the day I found out I was pregnant. I guess I assumed the world would look changed. Maybe colors would seem brighter. That I might be consumed by a happiness never felt before. Feel an optimism that outweighed all doubts.
But as I woke up drooling on my pillow, all I felt was tender in the tummy.
I had to say—it was all rather anticlimactic.
And as I groaned quietly, nuzzling my face into the dry side of my pillow, I realized, gut-wrenchingly, that I was still a woman who had no plan, was a mess, and, worst of all, was without her man.
All that, and I was expected to be someone’s mother?
Hell. That couldn’t be good, right?
I didn’t have a clear enough mind to think on it. Right now, all I could do was take one small step at a time.
After the initial positive, I might have panicked, diving into the drawers of the vanity to retrieve the bag of pregnancy tests Mina had left at my place. One by one, I dipped them, used a dropper to fill the small hole, then waited for them to develop until my entire bathroom sink was covered in white plastic sticks.
One after another, they all gave the same result.
Positive. Pregnant. A smiley face. Two little pink lines.
I sat slumped on the closed lid of the toilet, chewing gum and staring into nothingness.
As far as plans went, this little surprise wasn’t one of them. It wasn’t even on my radar. Hell, I didn’t even know if I wanted kids. But you know what they say. When life hands you lemons, bring out the tequila and salt. Which I would have to offer to my friends, as I was no longer allowed to drink.
My brow furrowed as I chewed faster, and my knee began to bob rapidly as the reality of this situation hit me.
I was pregnant.
Holy shit.
Dude.
It took no time at all to make a decision. There was no question. I knew my life could have been better. I wished I had more to offer this child than a fractured home and some sparkly tidbits. I would probably need to read a book or two about it, but I was having this baby.
My mind was already working with thoughts on how to babyproof this place. I shot up off the toilet and walked the long upstairs hall, deciding where the nursery would be. How did I want it decorated? Neutrals were a safe bet. Did I want to know the sex or leave it as a surprise? My mouth pulled down. I really hated surprises. I already started to look up the best baby monitors and the safest car seats, which bath products contained the least amount of chemicals, and what difference organic cotton made. My phone in one hand, the fingers of the other shot to my forehead, picking anxiously at my skin as I continued to read.
This shit was complicated.
The more I read, the more anxious I became about buying the wrong binky or not using the right
brand of diapers.
A quick scroll through some parenting forums had my brows lifting to my hairline.
Turns out, the harshest critics of mothers were… well, mothers.
“Geez,” I muttered as my eyes took in the absolute shitshow that was a momma using a common name-brand shampoo for her children. One woman told her that she obviously didn’t care for her kids. Another told her she should be ashamed of herself. My eyes widened in shock when one poster called the woman a murderer. Over shampoo. “C’mon now. What ever happened to women backing women?”
Apparently, that didn’t apply to the holier-than-thou mothers of the internet.
And, just like that, before this baby was even born, I already felt like I was royally screwing up.
But the thought of a baby girl with Vik’s clear-blue eyes or a little boy with the trademark Leokov dimple had my heart in knots.
I found myself uncharacteristically emotional, crying on and off for the better part of the evening. You know, people talked about how unprepared they were for the love they felt when they first met their child. At the time, I may not have understood that, but I did now. This little bean hadn’t even arrived, hadn’t even taken its first breath, and I would willingly kill for it.
I vowed to protect this child with all I had, doing all I could to keep it out of harm’s way.
My mind plagued me.
How was I going to tell him?
Whether or not Vik would be a part of the process was not for me to decide. He hadn’t signed up for this. The apprehension of having that conversation was enough to make me hyperventilate. I couldn’t keep it a secret forever. If my calculations were correct, and I was pretty sure they were, I was close to six weeks pregnant. And due to the fact that I had no idea what I was doing, I decided to call Pox.
Pox was one of those people who came along with men like my brothers. He was an extremely intelligent man, one who kept to himself but also worked with a lot of questionable people. Because of this, he let a lot slide. After all, when you dealt with crooks, you became crooked yourself, and as long as the price was right, there wasn’t a job he wouldn’t do.