Chapter 9
Chapter nine
Catarina
I stare at the small dot on the inside of my arm where the doctor tried to prick me with the needle before Matysh dragged him away from me.
He lost his mind over me.
And for some reason, that’s oddly satisfying.
I feel horrible admitting that, because the guilt of having this burgeoning attraction to a man other than Mikhail is still weighing heavily on me.
Matysh and I haven't spoken since yesterday afternoon when the doctor came to visit. I was served dinner in my room and Matysh stayed in his office until I heard him leave on his bike late in the evening. I was delivered a cup for a urine sample by Helena, and that was that.
And just like I don't know where Matysh went, I don’t know the results of the pregnancy test either.
But as I sit on the edge of the bed and play with the hem of my oversized T-shirt, I can’t help thinking about the fact that Mikhail would always go on long runs whenever he was frustrated. Maybe Matysh's motorcycle serves a similar purpose.
I wish I had the freedom to do something like that myself.
Instead, I’m still trapped in this estate. When I'm in my room, I'm alone, but if I decide to walk the halls, I have one of Matysh's guards trailing me at all times. It’s excessive.
But it was just like this at home.
I swallow hard as I stare out at the houses by the water, the Christmas lights twinkling in the darkness. I would give anything to be able to walk freely outside and feel the cold air against my skin, just for a few moments of alone time.
A knock on my door catches my attention, and I sit up without saying anything, knowing that whoever is knocking is just going to let themselves in. That’s just how it works here.
I brace myself as the door swings open, and there’s Matysh, his eyes raking over me.
He's dressed in a pair of black jeans and a zipped-up leather jacket, carrying a garment bag in his hand. “Here.” He holds it out to me, and reluctantly, I stand to my feet and take it from him, laying it out across the bed.
He stands by the door as I work the zipper down the silk bag, my heart jumping to my throat.
I gasp when I see how gorgeous the dress I’m supposed to wear to the ball is. I may not want to go, but good god, Matysh has nice taste.
The gown is light blue throughout with a form-fitting corset bodice with white lacing that closely resembles falling snowflakes. It has capped sleeves with a long tulle cape that matches the rest of the dress hanging off the sleeves.
“I spoke to the tailor and he gave me the measurements for this. You're not far along, so I assume your pregnancy won’t impact the fit,” Matysh explains as I trace my fingers along the elegant details of the gown in silent reverence.
My pregnancy. I lift my eyes from the gown and hold his eyes. “I take it you must have gotten the answer from the test then?”
He nods, his expression unmoving. “I did.”
“And I’m pregnant?” I nearly choke out the words, emotions welling up in my eyes despite already having a feeling I knew the answer.
“You are,” Matysh confirms, his voice still gruff. “You’re complying with your duties nicely… In that way.”
“Well,” I huff, blowing out a sharp breath. “That means so much coming from you.”
He laughs and I realize it's the first time I've heard a genuine laugh from him. It’s foreign to my ears, but… not in a bad way.
“You should get dressed,” Matysh says, grabbing the gown and hanging it up in my closet.
“Um… The ball isn’t tonight…” I point at it as he's walking away, wondering why he told me to put it on before hanging it up.
Once again, he laughs. “Not in this. Wear something warm.”
“Something warm?” I stare at him, clearly wondering what's going on, but he doesn't elaborate.
“Glad you can hear clearly,” Matysh grunts, stopping in the doorway. “Put on something warm and meet me in the living room in fifteen minutes. Don’t be late.”
He shuts the door as he leaves, and I stand motionless for a few moments before walking to the dresser and picking out a pair of jeans and a cashmere turtleneck sweater.
I slip on a pair of warm boots, courtesy of the thoughtful wardrobe Matysh’s house staff put together for me—with some cozy socks and grab a jacket, not knowing if we're going outside or not.
But ugh, I hope we are.
Once I’m convinced my hair is fine being pulled up, I make my way out of my room, and down the grand staircase. Matysh is in the living room, still wearing what he had on earlier, sitting calmly in the armchair, drumming his fingers against the leather.
I fold my arms across my chest. “Okay, I'm warm. What's going on? What do you want from me? Are you moving my living quarters to the backyard?”
He cocks a brow at me but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just stands to his feet, places his hand on the small of my back, and then guides me toward the door.
My heartbeat quickens as we walk outside, and for the first time in days, I feel cold air on my face. And while it burns my nose and my lungs, it feels so good.
He leads me to a car and opens the door for me to climb inside. I stand motionless for a few moments and look up at the sky, staring at the moon as the breeze whips around me.
“Let's go, Catarina,” Matysh urges me. “Before I change my mind.”
I glance back at him, wondering what changing his mind could possibly even mean at this point.
Honestly, I don’t want to figure it out.
So, I climb in and buckle my seatbelt while Matysh walks around to the driver’s side.
“I’m surprised we’re not on your bike,” I comment as he diligently checks his mirrors and buckles in.
Look at him, giving a shit about safety when he literally guts people who cross him.
“Motorcycles can be dangerous,” he says, looking me in the eye before his gaze flickers to my stomach. “No reason to chance it.”
“Ah, precious cargo,” I say, giving my stomach an awkward pat. I am still struggling to come to terms with that. He nods his head and carefully adjusts the rearview mirror again.
And I could literally laugh at how ironic this is.
I stifle it and stare out the window as we take off, trying to ignore the warmth growing in my chest at the idea of it…the idea of him caring about me and my well-being.
If only for the sake of the baby.
“Where are we going?” I ask after a few minutes of driving in silence.
“You’ll see,” he says, his eyes not shifting from the road.
Staring out the window, I see beautiful houses with Christmas lights rushing by us and I nearly smile at the holiday beauty. “I used to love Christmas as a kid,” I say, my thoughts leaking from my mouth without me realizing it.
“Why?” Matysh’s eyes drift to me for a split second. “I mean, I get that most kids love Christmas for gifts, but you were a spoiled little Petrov. You got whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted it.”
“Material things don’t matter,” I say, my voice flat, as I push the memories from my childhood. “We were appeased with gifts and never allowed to enjoy the magic—you know, like love.”
“Hmm,” Matysh mutters, letting out a sigh.
Before I can say anything else, the car slows along a street and Matysh parks in front of a meter before hopping out of the car. He jogs around and has my door open before my seatbelt is unclicked.
“Look at you, being Mr. Chivalrous,” I snort, giggling. “I have no idea who you are right now.”
His expression is once again unreadable. “You have a mouth on you.”
“I’d like to see you try to shut it.”
He doesn’t say anything, only places one hand firmly on my lower back, and then leads me to a grand arched entrance covered with glittering LED snowflakes and flashing bulb lights.
This all seems wrong. So wrong.
“What is this?” I demand, turning and looking at Matysh as he arches a brow at me.
We're surrounded by thousands of Christmas lights glowing and illuminating the darkness of the night around us.
About a dozen people are wandering around with their hands stuffed in their pockets or nursing hot chocolates, admiring the displays.
Christmas trees decorated with even more lights and glittering ornaments line a walkway with fake LED presents underneath.
“Helena told me you sit at the window and stare at the lights. I drove past the sign for this the other day and I thought you might… like it,” Matysh says, his tone impossible to read. “Figured I’d give you something else to stare at.”
“This is beautiful,” I murmur.
Matysh puts a hand on the small of my back again as we start strolling through the walkway.
When we exit the entrance, we come to a center circle with a bunch of picnic tables and food trucks parked around.
Three new arched pathways with plaques hanging above them naming the themed display area are on every side of the center.
“I'll get us some cocoa,” Matysh says, leaving me on my own as he walks toward one of the food trucks.
I stand motionless and look around, realizing in the back of my mind I could potentially escape right now. Matysh's back is turned to me and we're surrounded by dozens of other people. He won’t be able to chase me that easily through the Christmas displays, will he?
Probably.
But even with the possibility of freedom, I stay put. I can't fully explain why, but my desire to run has diminished. Right now, I’m seeing a side of Matysh I never in a million years thought existed. I’m too curious to bolt.
For now, anyway.
Matysh returns a couple of minutes later with two piping hot cups of cocoa in hand. “Well, hopefully you like extra marshmallows.”
I raise my brows at him as I take it, once again stifling back a laugh at the sight of the Pahkan sipping on his own hot chocolate. It’s too ironic.
“Let’s walk,” he grunts, nodding toward the lights. I loop my arm in his, and cling to him as we start through the displays.
We don't really say anything to each other. Occasionally, I mention how something is beautiful and Matysh just grunts something incoherent in response.
I don’t think that counts as talking.
But it counts toward something.