50. Lev
Shes pregnant, and in mere minutes, we will learn if it’s Wilson’s baby or if she’s carrying mine.
I’m restless but hide my emotions behind a stony fa?ade like I always do.
Life is about to change again, and depending on what the results are, it could go in any direction, one that sees Brooke tied to Wilson for the rest of their lives, which in Wilson’s case could be a short time, or one that means Brooke is going to give birth to the Zarkov heir.
My baby.
I frown, concerned by the sudden surge of happiness that thought brings.
While an heir is required, I wasn’t prepared for it to happen so early, and I sure as hell wasn’t expecting that blissful, sweet warmth to pour into my chest and spread throughout my body at the thought of him or her already growing inside her.
The nurse moves the ultrasound wand around Brooke’s flat belly and a grainy image appears on the screen of the machine. Seconds later, the steady thump of a heartbeat fills the room.
Brooke’s eyes widen. “Is that…?”
“Your baby, yes.”
I see the tears well in Brooke’s eyes. That’s when I realize my face has grown stiff with emotion, and a cold ache has formed in my throat.
Thump, thump, thump.
How can a sound evoke such an emotional response?
“Is my baby okay?” she asks the nurse, her big bunny eyes wide with concern.
The nurse smiles. “Looks pretty snug to me.”
Relief sweeps across Brooke’s face, and I have to admit, I feel a surge of it myself. Even if the baby is Wilson’s, the thought of Brooke suffering a miscarriage gnaws at my gut.
“The painkillers I’ve been on, would they have hurt the baby?” she asks.
“No, the medication you were given doesn’t cross the placenta, so your baby won’t be affected.”
Again, her face shows the relief she feels, and I can’t lie—I feel the same relief.
Brooke glances at me with uncertainty and then back to the nurse. “How many weeks pregnant am I?”
I do the math in my head.
More than eight weeks, and it’s Wilson’s.
Less than eight, and I’m going to be a father.
The nurse moves the ultrasound wand around Brooke’s belly some more before stopping to hit a couple of keys on the keyboard to take a picture.
This is it.
The moment of truth.
Christ, why is it taking so long?
My breath stalls in my chest.
“You’re seven weeks and two days pregnant.”
My breath leaves my lungs in a rush.
Mine.
The word echoes around and around in my brain and a fierce urge to take Brooke in my arms and kiss her stupid crashes through me.
I do more math. Seven weeks and three days ago, I met Brooke on a plane, and sometime during the many orgasms that night, I put my baby inside her.
Damn, why does that make me so fucking high?
Because you want this more than you thought you did.
Brooke gives me an unsure smile. She’s trying to gauge my thoughts by my reaction. The smile I give her is genuine. Mine. She and the baby growing in her belly are all mine, and I couldn’t be fucking happier.
“Can you tell what sex it is?” Brooke asks.
“It’s too soon, I’m afraid. But when you have a follow-up ultrasound in the next few weeks, we might be able to see the gender then.”
I don’t care what sex the baby is, as long as it’s healthy and strong and has all the goodness of its mother and none of the darkness of me.
The nurse leaves us, and Brooke waits until she closes the door behind her before speaking.
“You’re very quiet,” she says softly. “It’s big news.”
“It is.”
“Do you want to tell me how you feel about it? I need to know.”
I hear the doubt in her voice, and I hate it.
“Zayka, if you weren’t lying in that bed with cuts and bruises, I would have you in my arms, and I would be kissing the doubt off your lips right now.” I sit on the edge of the bed and take her hand. “I want this. I want this so fucking much I don’t have the words for it.”
A fresh wave of tears sparkles in her eyes. “You do?”
“I do.”
She’s surprised, but even I’m surprised by how much I want this.
“We have a lot to talk about,” she says.
“We do, but tonight is not the time. You need to rest.” I give her a soft smile. I want to take her home with me, hold her in my arms, and listen to the gentle lullaby of her soft breath as we both fall asleep. I want to talk about the millions of thoughts I have of her and me with our child suddenly racing through my mind. I want to kiss her crazy for taking my fear and vanquishing it with all her goodness and light and sunshine. But she needs to rest for her body to heal.
And when I think how Vlad had his paws on Brooke and what could have happened to her, I want to cut him into a million pieces and watch him bleed out on the floor. He not only hurt the woman I’m falling for, but he almost killed my baby. My heir.
My vision blurs with a violent shade of red. This deed requires a retaliation unlike any I’ve ever initiated before.
Vlad’s days are numbered because I’m coming for him.
I will kill him slowly.
And I’m going to make it hurt.