Chapter 19
GABBY
The ER is as cold as a damn freezer. Everything’s too bright, too clean. I’m sitting in a paper gown that doesn’t even cover my knees, still buzzing from adrenaline.
The pop-pop-pop of gunfire, the squeal of tires, the wail of sirens closing in, all still ring in my ears.
Sasha stands across from me in the exam room, like a statue in a suit. Arms crossed, expression unreadable. The nurses in the room keep glancing at him, then at each other, as if they’re trying to assess whether or not he’s someone they need to worry about.
I’m wondering the same. My head won’t stop spinning. I keep thinking about Angie, the way she looked at me when Johan pulled her away. I want to scream, cry, sleep—anything but sit here trying to pretend I’m fine.
One of the nurses checks my vitals, jots a few notes down on her pad, then leaves with the other.
Sasha and I are alone. And I’m still pissed.
“You had no right to fire her.”
Sasha flicks his gaze onto me. “I have every right. She works for me. Worked for me. How long do you plan on litigating this subject?”
“She’s my friend, and you humiliated her.”
“So is this a matter of business? Or is it personal?”
“Both.”
He snorts. “You were almost killed because of Morozov’s bullshit.” His eyes flash, and I can sense he’s just said a little more than he intended.
“What does that mean?” He hesitates. “Don’t even think of being evasive,” I say. “I want to know what you mean.”
“Let’s just say there’s a lot you don’t know about the Morozovs.”
“Don’t give me any of this cryptic BS. Be straight with me.”
“Peter Morovoz, Johan’s father. The success of this merger relies entirely on keeping him out of the loop until it’s done. He’s no normal businessman.”
“No normal businessman.” I don’t need an explanation to know what that means. “And we’re trying to merge with a family headed by a guy who pulls assassinations to get what he wants.”
“It’s the only way to end it.”
“The only way to end what?”
He opens his mouth to answer, but the door opens and a nurse steps in. The moment shifts to small talk and questions and polite smiles. When she’s gone, I grip the sheet.
“You can’t act out like this because you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared,” he says simply. “And I’m not acting out. You don’t understand what needs to be done to survive in the world you’re now in.”
“Of course you’re scared,” I reply with a sharp laugh. “You’re scared of losing control. Of losing your empire. Of losing me and this child.”
He blinks, saying not a word; I’ve opened a tiny crack in his armor.
“You don’t understand the weight of keeping people alive. Not in the slightest.”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t talk to me like I’m some idiot kid. I’m the one who almost got shot, remember? And I know exactly the weight of keeping someone alive. I’m pregnant!” I take a shaky breath. “This merger. It’s not just business, is it? If it falls apart, then Peter will want revenge.”
He nods once.
“Then let me fix it,” I say. “Let me talk to Johan.”
“Not a chance.”
“Sasha—”
“I’ll handle it,” he says. “Johan isn’t a fool. He knows what’s at stake. He knows what he stands to gain from this merger. And he knows he made a mistake doing what he did with your friend, and that I was in the right.”
He sounds confident, but I don’t know. What he did to Johan was an insult, something beyond just business. Will the deal be able to come back from this? Did Sasha screw things up for good in the space of a few moments?
“And you know what else sucks?” I ask. “I don’t even know how Angie’s doing. She’s probably terrified and scared and wondering what the hell’s going to happen to her.”
Sasha doesn’t seem moved. “She’s safer with him tonight.”
I narrow my eyes. “If anything happens to her—”
“It won’t.” His gaze meets mine. I hate that it has the disarming effect on me that it always does.
I study him for a long moment, like I’m trying to see directly through him. He seems confident, like there’s no doubt in his mind.
The technician walks in, like she’s stepping onto a sitcom set—too bright, too chipper for the tension still in the air. If she notices the awkwardness, she doesn’t say anything.
“Alright, Ms. Resse,” she says, glancing at her chart. “Looks like you’re in good shape despite the incident—just a few bruises from when you hit the ground. Now let’s check everything and make sure the baby’s doing alright.”
Baby. The word still feels so new and strange, even though I’m getting farther along. I sit on the bed as she wheels in an ultrasound machine.
She pauses. “Have you had an ultrasound done yet?”
I shake my head. “I was supposed to have my first done at my two-month mark a week ago, but I rescheduled for later this week since everything’s been so insane.”
Her eyebrows raise. “Oh, so this is the big moment then?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s get you lying back comfortably,” she says.
Sasha drifts closer. “I’ll be right here.” His hand brushes the edge of the hospital bed as he stands back.
The truth is, I don’t know what I want from him. Part of me wants him to take my hand, hold me through this process, and tell me everything’s going to be okay. Another part wants him out of here, not even in the damn room.
“Now this is going to be a little cold.” The technician raises my shirt a bit and begins spreading some cool gel onto my belly. I shiver, the sensation strange.
She places the wand on my stomach. For some reason, it makes me flinch at first. The monitor hums to life, static blooming into shape. Sasha leans forward, total interest in his eyes.
The tech frowns slightly, adjusts the wand, then her face brightens. “Well, that’s some news.”
“What?” Sasha and I say at the same time.
She turns the screen more toward me. At first, I’m confused.
Then I get it.
Two pulses flash in tandem, overlapping in rhythm. I hear them. Two distinct whooshes, two heartbeats.
Twins.
Sasha’s voice drops to a whisper. “Two?”
“Twins,” the tech says, beaming. “And both heartbeats sound as healthy as you’d hope. Congratulations.”
The word twins explodes softly in my mind. I cover my mouth. The room blurs. Sasha steps over and grips the edge of the bed, like the ground’s moving beneath him. He looks stunned, almost reverent.
For a long moment, everything else vanishes—sirens, gunfire, arguments, mergers. It’s all just static now, swallowed up by the sound of two tiny hearts. The world is nothing but these two little whooshing rhythms.
“Twins.” I say the word out loud to myself, trying to wrap my head around it.
Sasha turns toward me, and for once there’s no armor. Just awe. “You’re carrying two children. You’re amazing.”
Tears sting my eyes before I can stop them. “Don’t say things like that—I might start forgiving you.”
He gives a small, unsteady smile. “Then I’ll say it again.”
I glance back at the monitor, watching the two twin pulses shimmer in the dark. For the first time in the last few days, I don’t feel fear. Just hope. Happiness.
The tech leaves, but not before handing me a printout—two small silhouettes, side by side. I clutch it carefully to my chest.
Sasha sits down on the small stool by the bed. For a time, neither of us says a word. But it’s a good silence… more like a truce. His hand moves slowly, hovering near mine. He waits. I don’t pull away. When his hand falls gently onto mine, another flash of happiness runs through me.
I look down at the blurred printout, then at him. “I don’t know what kinds of plans for the nursery you had in mind, but you’d better change them.”
His thumb brushes my knuckles, a slow, reverent gesture. “We can. Together.”
Sasha’s hand on mine and the sound of those two heartbeats—small but strong—echoing through my mind is all I need right now.