Chapter 13 #2
The doctor glances warily at Alexei, who’s watching him with narrowed eyes, before refocusing on me.
“That is something for you two to discuss with a fertility specialist. We have achieved close to a complete resection—that is, the removal of all visible and detectable parts of the tumor—during the surgery, but some cancer cells inevitably remain, so there is always a risk to delaying the start of radiation therapy. However, given your age and the other favorable factors we discussed, it’s not a big risk, and you have to decide how important the ability to have biological children is to you.
Something to keep in mind is that the radiation therapy we’ll be using is highly targeted and localized, so there will be no direct impact on your reproductive organs.
There could, however, be an indirect impact on your fertility through changes in hormonal levels, as we may have to target areas near the pituitary gland and the hypothalamus. ”
“What about the immunotherapy?” Alexei asks, his dark eyes focused intently on the doctor.
“Since this specific drug is still in the clinical trial stages, we don’t have a lot of data on how it impacts reproductive health.
However, other immunotherapy drugs have been shown not to have a significant impact on reproductive organs, and we expect to see the same results here.
” The doctor pauses before adding, “Of course, if the immunotherapy is used in conjunction with the chemotherapy protocol, your fertility will almost certainly be affected. So it’s really up to you and your risk tolerance… ”
My head is beginning to ache again from all this doctor speak. I want straightforward answers about the path forward, not all this “your risk tolerance” hedging.
Alexei must feel the same because his tone sharpens as he asks, “So what do you recommend? Chemotherapy in conjunction with the immunotherapy and radiation? Or just immunotherapy and radiation?”
Fasseau takes in a breath. “Like I said, it really depends on—”
Alexei raises his hand, palm out, cutting him off. His tone sharpens further. “If this were your wife or daughter, what would you do for her?”
The doctor swallows, paling visibly, and I instantly feel bad for him. If he knows anything about Alexei—and I’m sure he does—he must suspect that it’s not just his professional reputation on the line.
“I…” He takes another breath. “I would do the immunotherapy in combination with the radiation, with no delay. And I would hold off on the chemotherapy to see if those two protocols will suffice. Chemo is rough on the body and has all sorts of long-term side effects, including the possibility of other cancers, so if there’s a chance you can avoid it… ”
Alexei nods grimly. “Right.” He glances at me, and his voice softens. “Alinyonok, do you have any other questions for the doctor?”
I feel like I have about a million, but none come to mind at this moment. The headache is worsening, and I just want some time to process all of this. “I’m good for now, thanks.”
Fasseau nods and leaves the room. I wait until the door closes behind him before I reach out to touch Alexei’s arm. “About the egg freezing…”
I don’t know what I’m about to say. Do I want to delay starting the treatment and attempt to extract my eggs, despite what the doctor advised?
And if they were to be successfully extracted, what then?
Would Alexei insist on creating embryos with his sperm, thus permanently binding us together like he’s always wanted?
Before everything that’s happened, I would’ve fought that possibility tooth and nail, but now… I don’t know what I want anymore. Or what I fear more: having children with Alexei or never being able to give him any.
His jaw tightens. “No.”
I blink. “What do you mean, no?”
“You heard the doctor. We shouldn’t delay the treatment.”
“But shouldn’t we speak to a fertility specialist first, so—”
He grips my hands, his gaze boring into me with fierce intensity. “I can’t lose you.”
“But—”
“No buts. The only thing we’ll delay is the chemotherapy, for the reasons Fasseau outlined. The rest of it—the radiation and the immunotherapy—will start as soon as the doctors recommend.”
I stare at him, equal parts confused and outraged.
Wasn’t he all about having a child with me before all of this happened?
Has he changed his mind? More importantly, it’s my health and fertility we’re talking about, so don’t I get to decide?
Then again, this is the man who thought nothing of making me marry him and of impregnating me against my will—not to mention, arranging our betrothal when I was barely fifteen.
I haven’t forgotten any of this—how could I?
—but somehow, my anger at him has faded in recent days, replaced by other emotions.
Stupid, illogical, dangerous emotions like gratitude and… attachment.
No, not attachment. It’s probably just a version of Stockholm syndrome. That’s how it’s supposed to work, isn’t it? You humanize your captor, look for the good in him, become grateful for any kindness shown… And all the while, you’re still at his mercy, fully in his power while you have none.
If there’s anything I should be grateful for right now, it’s that my husband is showing his true colors and reminding me why I’ve fought against this union—and why I must keep fighting.
With a jerky movement, I pull my hands out of his grasp and demonstratively close my eyes. “I’m tired. I want to rest.”
It’s the coward’s way out, I know, but it’s the only escape he’ll allow me.
Sure enough, his voice softens, the dangerous intensity in his tone fading. “Of course.” He leans over me, and I feel the gentle brush of his lips over my cheek. “Sleep and get well.”
I keep my eyes closed as he gets up, the bed dipping from his movement, and though by all rights, I should be too wound up to sleep, I find myself drifting off.
My brothers are there when I wake up again. And not just Valery and Konstantin.
“Kolya,” I exclaim as my middle brother comes up to stand over me, a faint smile on his lips. “When did you get here? Where’s Chloe?”
At that moment, the door to my room opens, and Nikolai’s wife steps in. I grin as her big brown eyes land on me, a bright smile illuminating her small, pretty face.
“Hey there! I hear you may have turned into a zombie,” she says in American-accented English, and I laugh, glancing at Valery and Konstantin.
“You two sold me out, huh?”
A hint of amusement glimmers in Valery’s normally impassive gaze. “Sorry to ruin your fun.”
Like me, he’s speaking English out of consideration for Chloe. She’s an American, and though she’s learned a few Russian words and phrases since landing at Nikolai’s Idaho compound, she’s nowhere near being fluent in our language.
She makes her way over to me, and I carefully sit up, ignoring the jab of pain in my head as I extend my IV-free arm to hug her.
Though I’ve only known Chloe for a few short months, I’m ridiculously happy to see her.
Maybe it’s because of the circumstances under which I left—carried away by Alexei after his brutal attack on the compound—but I feel like I’m reuniting with a sister instead of just a sister-in-law.
“How are you doing?” she asks, perching on the edge of the bed.
I’m about to reply when a flicker of movement catches my attention. I look across the room and meet Alexei’s gaze. His expression is dark and forbidding as he stands in the corner, observing the scene, keeping an eye on me lest I vanish from under his nose again.
Seeing him brings back all the emotions from our most recent confrontation, and I force myself to refocus on Chloe. So what if he’s watching us? I’m not plotting anything—at this moment, at least.
“You can see how I am,” I reply to her, pointedly not looking in Alexei’s direction. “Tell me, how is Slava?”
“He’s good. Missing you,” Nikolai says, coming to stand next to Chloe. He places his hand on her slim shoulder and moves his thumb over her nape in a massaging motion, as if he can’t bear not to touch her. Which he probably can’t.
My brother is beyond obsessed with his new wife.
“He wanted to come with us, but it wasn’t a good idea,” Chloe says, casting a wary look in Alexei’s direction.
I can tell she wants to drill me about him, and if we were alone, that’s exactly what she’d be doing right now.
Alas, between my brothers and Alexei, we have zero privacy at the moment.
Maybe I’ll ask her to help me to the bathroom in a bit and fill her in.
That is, if Alexei doesn’t insist on accompanying me there instead.
For now, I keep the conversation focused on my nephew. “Is he making progress on his English?” I ask Chloe.
“Oh, definitely,” she replies. “I’ve been reading lots of English books with him, and he’s learned the names of all the animals. He’s also working on his numbers and colors in English, and in general, I’m pretty sure he understands close to ninety percent of what I say.”
“Good. I’m glad.” I glance up at Nikolai with a smile. “He’s becoming a little American. That’s what you wanted for him, isn’t it?”
My brother doesn’t reply. He’s busy shooting a murderous glare at Alexei, who’s watching the room from the corner with the same dark intensity as before.
Only now, his right hand is inside his black leather jacket, and Valery is mimicking his stance, while Konstantin is tapping out prime numbers with his foot, the way he often does when things get tense.
Shit. Did I miss something, or is this an inevitable consequence of too much testosterone in one room?
Whatever the answer, I need to diffuse the situation. Fast.
“Don’t mind my husband,” I say a little louder so Alexei can definitely hear me. “He’s just being a bear because he’s worried about me. Isn’t that right, Lyosha?” I give Alexei a sugary smile as I use his brother’s childhood nickname for him.
Alexei’s gaze flickers toward me, and so does Nikolai’s. Valery doesn’t take his eyes off Alexei, but his hand leaves the inside of his jacket. A tense eyeblink later, Alexei drops his hand as well, and Konstantin stops tapping his foot.
I breathe out a sigh of relief. No idea what triggered the standoff, but cooler heads prevailed. Namely mine, which is literally cool where the bandage doesn’t cover my shaved skull.
Speaking of which… “Do you like my new hairstyle?” I ask Chloe brightly, figuring it’s best to just move on from whatever almost happened.
She cocks her head. “I do, actually. It’s very Natalie Portman in V for Vendetta. I’m curious to see how it’ll look without the bandage.”
“Hopefully, you’ll find out soon.” I glance at Alexei. “Did they say when they’ll take it off?”
“No, but I imagine it’ll be in a couple of weeks,” my husband replies, his tone cool and even as he eyes my brothers with unconcealed distrust.
“Will you still be here then?” I ask Nikolai. “How long are you guys visiting for?”
“Just a couple of days, unfortunately,” he answers. “We don’t want to leave Slava for too long.”
“Totally understandable,” I say. “I’m glad you guys came. Thank you for that.”
“Of course,” Chloe says and reaches over to squeeze my hand. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you. On top of… everything.” Her gaze strays to Alexei for a brief moment, and I know the questions are eating her alive.
“Will you help me to the bathroom?” I ask, deciding not to put it off any longer.
“I’ll do it,” Alexei says, immediately stepping forward, but I lift my hand, palm out.
“Please, I’d rather a woman do it.”
He narrows his eyes.
“I promise I’ll call out for you if I need any extra help.” He doesn’t look convinced, so I add in a softer tone, “Please, Alexei… I need this.”
Also, he knows the attached bathroom doesn’t have any windows, but I don’t point it out in case things get tense again.
His nostrils flare, but after a moment, he says, “I’ll help you to the door, and she can go in with you.”
Pushing past my brothers, he gently helps me off the bed and onto my feet.
I’m still attached to an IV, so he maneuvers the metal stand to ride alongside me as he walks me to the bathroom door, keeping his arm looped around my back for support as Chloe trails after us.
Thankfully, I’m minimally dizzy, so I can truthfully tell him that I’ll be fine with only Chloe to help me.
As soon as we’re inside the bathroom, Chloe closes the door and grabs my hand. “Oh my god,” she whispers. “Alina, are you—”
“I’m okay. Truly.” I keep my voice pitched low. “You saw it yourself: he’s treating me well.”
She gives me a dubious look.
“He is. And I know, it was a shock to me too. Look…” I squeeze her hand.
“You and Nikolai had your differences in the beginning too. Some men can just be… intense.” An understatement of the century when it comes to Alexei and Nikolai.
“But it’s worked out for you, and I’m hoping it will work out for me too. ”
She stares at me incredulously. “Are you saying you want to stay with him?”
“Yes,” I lie.
Or at least I think it’s a lie.
Either way, as much as I want to unload on her all the contradictory emotions tormenting me, I can’t do so without putting her and Nikolai in danger.
Right now, because of my illness, my brothers and Alexei appear to be in a fragile truce of sorts, a temporary ceasefire that could devolve into open warfare at the smallest provocation—and I’d like to extend this truce for as long as possible, even if we all know that my brothers will try to rescue me at some point, and that Alexei will fight them to the death before he lets them succeed.
Or… maybe he won’t fight them that hard. Despite his behavior thus far, there’s still a part of me that’s convinced he’ll want to bail on this situation eventually.
Come to think of it, that could be why he’s not worried about my ability to have children.
He no longer wants any with me.
The thought sears through me like a burn from a hot poker, and I must not hide it well because Chloe’s expression grows concerned.
“You’re lying to me,” she states in a low voice, and I’m forced to spend the next few minutes telling her all about how good Alexei has been to me in order to convince her otherwise.
I don’t know if I succeed or not, but Alexei knocks on the door, and we’re forced to end our private chat.
Which is just as well because I’m suddenly very tired, and my headache is worsening.
As soon as we emerge from the bathroom, Alexei helps me back to bed and ushers everyone out, claiming that I need to rest.
Which I do.
As I close my eyes, Alexei’s fingers intertwine with mine, and I feel the warm brush of his lips over my cheek as I drift off.