Chapter 16 - Bianca
The morning feels like a rude awakening, the light streaming in through the blinds reminding me that we didn’t escape reality yesterday, just found a momentary reprise from it. It’s a sobering thought, one that makes my heart race with uncertainty and fear.
I’m midway through breakfast when Aleksei strolls in, hands stretching over his head with a yawn.
“Good news, baby.” The last word makes me freeze before I relax again, realizing I’m just paranoid, not having told Aleksei yet. “Security cleared the mansion. We can call a driver whenever you’re ready.”
The drive back to the main house is quiet, but I feel the tension during the ride, glancing out the tinted windows to analyze the passing cars, trying to discern if there’s any suspicious-looking vehicles, or eyes that linger too long on us. I wonder if this is how it will be—living in constant fear for my safety or that of those around me. It’s a heavy, suffocating feeling, making out the memories of my life just a few weeks ago—before I was taken as a bargaining chip—seem almost nostalgic.
I ask Aleksei if we can stop at a pharmacy, feigning stomach pain from the newfound fear of being followed. He agrees, opting to let me go with a security guard when I tell him I need some other things too, namely sanitary items.
The mansion welcomes us in its own quiet way, the first time I return to it willingly, and reveling in the safety of the secured grounds and vast areas of greenery where I don’t need to worry about being hurt or killed. It’s a sickening thought.
When I enter my room, I head straight for the ensuite bathroom, pulling out a pregnancy test I managed to snag at the pharmacy when the security guard wasn’t looking. I plop down on the bed after using the test, waiting for the results to show. It’s a torturous few minutes. I glance at it, hoping to see nothing of note. But it’s there, so very clearly.
It’s positive.
The result doesn’t feel as shocking as I thought it’d be—maybe the constant thoughts wearing down my mind were a way of telling me what was already there. But how? It’s been a few years that I’ve come to terms with the fact that I wouldn’t be— couldn’t be —a mother. That my body wasn’t capable of that; that the infinitesimally small chance of that happening would not come to pass.
But having physical proof of it now, and not just my constant suspicions, does make the whole thing seem a lot heavier and daunting. I look around the room, wishing there to be something, a sign perhaps , that would suggest what to do next. I let out a scoff, laughing at the ridiculousness of the thought. It looked like an unplanned pregnancy would be the trigger for the newfound appreciation and belief in a God I, up until now, only have had contempt for. Everything feels somehow different. I’ve always been independent—fiercely so—but now that I’m faced with a decision that will alter the course of my life, I find myself yearning for someone who could help me with it.
I feel something when I’m with Aleksei, that’s for sure, though I’m not sure if that alone is enough to be able to choose to have a child with him. His willingness to lay his life down for the safety of those around him shows just how much he cares, but that alone is not enough of a reason for me to trust in him. He may not want children and could become angry if I decide to come clean to him now. We come from different worlds, and though I’m adjusting fast to possibly being in danger whenever I go out in public—a disturbing realization on my part—we still come from different worlds, allegiances bound together by differing values and fantasies of the future. The burden only intensifies with my father’s retaliation looming over us.
It’s hours before I leave my room, sun slowly growing weaker with the afternoon hours. I make my way down the stairs to head towards the kitchen, but the sound of fervent conversation makes me head to the living room instead. I recognize Aleksei and Akim’s voice, deep in conversation.
I know I need to talk to Aleksei, but hearing him deep in conversation that doesn’t have to do with my current situation calms me down a bit, giving me time to stall. Their conversation revolves around my father’s demands, Dmitri frequently stepping in to calm Aleksei’s growing frustration and anger with each passing word. I finally step in, the three brothers’ gazes rising to mine but still continuing the debate. I appreciate that, liking that they don’t feel the need to hide anything from me.
“We need to strike now, when we still have the upper hand. Something resounding to rid us of that...” Akim looks to me then, pausing. He continues on while I zone out, trying to reconcile the person they’re considering murdering being my father.
Akim’s conviction in needing a resounding and aggressive response to my father’s assassination attempt is obvious and firm, his eyes glinting with stubbornness and determination as he argues his point. I know he doesn’t wish me harm—he’s been the friendliest to me since the beginning, but his conviction stings.
Dmitri cuts in, his characteristic stoic pragmatism taking over. “Rushing in without a plan is disastrous—we’ve tried it and seen how it ended up, Akim . We need to think this through.”
Grigor’s eyes narrow when he looks at me. “I don’t trust her. She could be somehow feeding information to her father.”
I don’t trust her. The sentence echoes in my mind, jabbing at a part of me I thought was long dormant. The part of me that hurt whenever I was reminded that I don’t belong anywhere. That I could never be trusted. And I can’t, can I? I am keeping something from everyone—the object in my pocket growing heavier by the second. His suspicion hangs heavy in the air, a fact that both annoys me but one that I also understand, considering that in the grand scheme of things I haven’t been with the Barkovs long enough to prove my allegiance. If it came down to it, though, what would I choose?
“Listen,” Akim begins, irritation clear in his voice. “All I’m saying is a direct message is the best course of action.”
Dmitri counters and the room quietens somewhat at his interjection. “But at what cost?!” His voice is getting sharper with each word. “Do you not remember what happened last time we decided to play turf wars like this? Who we lost?” Akim looks down at the ground, looking equal parts sad and annoyed.
“He’s right, charging in blind won’t help anyone.” It's Nikolai’s soft baritone that brings me back into the moment, his calm demeanor contrasting with the arguments being fired left and right.
In that moment, I find the courage to talk. I anticipate Grigor’s stabbing gaze, but also something else, a remnant of my formative years spent in the Lorenzo household—I expect annoyance at having my voice heard.
“A truce.” I let out. “Is there no possibility of a truce? Unless you’re looking for this to end in all of us eventually being dead.”
There’s a moment of silence, one that makes me itch with bitter anticipation. I expect a few things—shouts or accusations being the baseline of my fantasy. What I don’t expect is the stares punctuating the atmosphere with a dreadful sense of finality. I slowly pick up on the ragged breaths, finally escaping what I thought was only silence.
It starts slowly, at first, a definitive shift taking place. Dmitri’s eyes scan my face before softening, making contact with mine again to portray a silent understanding that helps me breathe. Akim remains stoic, but there’s a flicker of what I recognize as doubt in his eyes, uncertainty that betrays his unwavering resolve in his conviction.
“She’s right.” Dmitri starts, voice low but filled with conviction. “We can’t let revenge cloud our judgment. Not now, when we’re so close.” He stares a pointed stare in Aleksei’s direction. “A truce may be our best option, even if it’s temporary.”
The heavy thickness permeating the room eases somewhat, and I sense the overbearing sense of fear secede with each passing second. Perhaps for the first time since being involved in all of this, I see a possible path that doesn’t mean mutually assured destruction.
“Okay,” Aleksei says tentatively. “But we need to hold our ground. A truce does not mean giving in.”
Right. The truce. I wasn’t shouted at, or accused of sabotage. They are considering it. There’s still eyes that look unconvinced, though, Grigor clearing his throat before speaking.
“ I don’t trust her .” He drags the words out, looking straight at me but speaking indirectly to me. “Look at her. I know you trust her, Aleksei, but she’s Rossi through and through, and we all know who she’d choose if it came down to it.”
“Care to explain that, Grigor?” I raise my voice, though still attempting to keep calm. I know these accusations would come, but they still hurt. I wasn’t Rossi enough when I was growing up, and I’d never be a Barkov either, no matter how much I tried. I school my features again, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I understand your concerns, Grigor. But I swear to you, the idea of either you, Aleksei or my father and sister dying does not appeal to me. All I want is to keep both families safe, and I believe that this truce could be the path to that. The only one I can see for now.”
Grigor looks unfazed, his eyes narrowing at me as he takes a step closer. I wonder what he’s playing at if his advancing is meant to be an intimidation tactic.
“Stop it, Grigor,” Aleksei warns, growling as he steps in-between Grigor and I. “She’s one of us now. Get it through your thick skull. And so far, she’s been nothing but loyal.” He looks around, assessing the look of his brothers, who seem somewhat calmer now than they did at the beginning of the discussion.
“We got some more business to attend to, let’s start getting ready.” It’s not an invitation but rather a command. I head out towards the kitchen, hearing Aleksei following closely behind. I feel hungry all of a sudden, needing to refuel urgently.
“There might come a time when violence is unavoidable, but I can promise you I will do all I can to avoid that.”
I turn back to him from rummaging through the fridge, nodding at him and smiling nervously. I trust him.
“I know. Thank you for vouching for me.” I admit. His support means everything, especially when I still feel like an outsider here.
“Always. You’re my wife , of course I trust you.” He takes me in for a hug, one I readily accept. His warmth and woody scent comforts me, though I freeze when I feel the thin plastic stick poking at me through my pocket. The pregnancy test. It feels too heavy again. Despite it weighing heavy on me, I can wait longer for when the dust settles.
The truth is that I need this truce. I cannot let bloodshed ensue, being invested in the safety of both my sister and the man I’m bound to by law now. I’m not a stranger to Aleksei or his brothers either, and despite not knowing what I would label our current situation as, I know that I do have a growing fondness for the man standing before me.
We part ways after eating, and I head upstairs to rest. Maybe it’s a placebo, but since I realized that there is a possibility that I might be pregnant, I find myself more prone to needing naps here and there to alleviate the nausea that plagues me at random times during the day.
Though now, I don’t think it’s the pregnancy at all. I toss and turn until I fall asleep, my mind plagued with the images of Giorgia getting hurt . I can’t allow that to happen.