Chapter 17 Vera #2
A slow smile spreads across his face, lighting his eyes and he draws me into a long, indolent kiss.
Every part of me stirs in response, my heart beating a wholly different rhythm when he withdraws himself and settles at my side.
He pulls me against his chest, one arm banded around my waist, the other hand stroking my hair with surprising gentleness.
“Sleep,” he murmurs against my temple. “You’re exhausted.”
I am. The emotional toll of the last few days crashes over me all at once. My eyelids grow heavy. My body melts into his warmth.
“Don’t leave me,” I murmur, feeling so warm and soft and cozy.
“I won’t,” he promises, running his fingers through my hair.
Just before I drift off, I feel him press a kiss to the top of my head and his arms tighten around me like he’s afraid I might disappear.
The last thing I think before sleep claims me is that this feels right in a way nothing with Alexei ever did.
I wake to dampness between my legs and confusion fogging my brain.
For a mortifying moment, I think I’ve wet myself. Heat floods my face even though I’m alone (Dimitri’s side of the bed is empty and the sheets cool. He must have gone back to his room at some point).
But then I shift and feel the wetness spread. Too much to be... that. And something feels wrong. Off. There’s a heaviness low in my pelvis that wasn’t there before.
Dread creeps up my spine and I throw back the covers and my heart stops.
Red. Dark red, almost black in the weak late fall morning light. It’s smeared across my nightgown and staining the white sheets beneath me. There’s so much blood it looks like a crime scene.
For a moment, I’m annoyed. I started my period. Dammit.
But then it hits me. I can’t have started my period because I’m pregnant—
No.
No, no, no, no, no.
My hands fly to my stomach. I’m bleeding. I’m bleeding and I’m pregnant and this can’t be happening. This can’t—
“Dimitri!” My voice comes out strangled. Panicked.
Silence.
I touch the blood with trembling fingers, as if my eyes might be lying to me. As if maybe it’s not real, maybe I’m still asleep and this is just a nightmare.
But my fingers come away sticky and red and very, very real.
“DIMITRI!”
I have to get to him. I need to find help. The baby—
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and try to stand. The moment my feet hit the floor, a sharp and vicious cramp knifes through my lower abdomen. It hurts so bad it steals my breath and I double over with a cry.
Oh God. Oh God, I’m losing it.
The baby. Alexei’s baby. The last piece of him left in this world.
Another cramp hits and I gasp, clutching my stomach like I can somehow hold everything inside through sheer force of will.
Tears blur my vision as I stagger toward the door, donning my forgotten nightgown with shaking hands.
Blood drips down my thighs and onto the carpet, leaving a trail behind me.
I’ll be mortified about later if there is a later, if everything isn’t about to fall apart—
This is punishment.
The thought slams into me.
You betrayed him. You had sex with his brother. You fell for Dimitri. And now you’re paying for it.
“No,” I whisper. “No, please—”
My voice breaks on a sob. I grab the doorframe for support, my legs threatening to give out beneath me. Every step sends fresh waves of pain through my abdomen and makes more blood trickle down my thighs.
I’m going to lose this baby. The innocent life that did nothing wrong except be conceived by two people who thought they had a future together.
This is my fault. For sleeping with Dimitri. For wanting him. For betraying Alexei’s memory while carrying his child.
I wrench the door open and scream.
“DIMITRI!”
Footsteps thunder up the stairs. A guard appears at the end of the hallway (I don’t know his name, one of the five who stayed after Dimitri dismissed most of the security). He takes one look at me and goes pale.
“Mrs. Volkov—”
“Get Dimitri,” I gasp. “Please. The baby—”
He’s already speaking rapidly into his radio in Russian words I don’t understand, but the urgency comes through clearly.
Then more footsteps, faster this time, and suddenly Dimitri is there.
His white dress shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows exposing strong forearms dusted with dark hair. His hair is disheveled and it’s obvious he hasn’t shaved because there’s stubble darkening his sharp jaw.
He stops dead when he sees me.
The color drains from his face—that olive skin going pale, making his eyes seem even more startling by contrast. Those full lips part on a shocked inhale and for a heartbeat, he just stares—at the blood soaking through my nightgown, dripping onto the carpet, at the way I’m doubled over clutching my stomach, at the tears streaming down my face.
Terror transforms his features. His brows draw together, those sharp cheekbones seeming to cut even more prominently as his jaw clenches. Every line of his tall, powerful frame goes rigid with fear.
“Vera.” My name is barely a whisper.
Then he’s moving, closing the distance between us in four strides. He scoops me up like I weigh nothing, cradling me against his chest as he carries me back toward the bed.
“Get Dr. Petrov here NOW,” he barks at the guard. “I don’t care what he's doing or if he’s in surgery. Get him here in the next fifteen minutes or I’ll burn his fucking practice to the ground.”
The guard disappears. Dimitri sets me down on the bed with a gentleness that contradicts the violence in his voice. His hands shake as he pulls the blood-soaked nightgown away from my skin, and he grabs a towel from the bathroom to press between my legs.
“It’s okay,” he says, and his voice is steady even though his hands aren’t. But I can see the terror in his eyes. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
He's lying. I can tell he’s lying. This isn’t okay. Nothing about this is okay.
“The baby—” I sob, feeling my heart break. I love this baby so much with an intensity that shocks me because how can I love someone I’ve never even met? “Dimitri, I’m losing—”
“You don’t know that.” He cups my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. “You don’t know that, Vera. We’re going to wait for Dr. Petrov and he’s going to check and everything is going to be fine.”
But another cramp tears through me and I cry out, my whole body jerking. Dimitri makes a sound low in his throat that sounds like despair and he pulls me against his chest.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs into my hair. “I’ve got you. Just breathe.”
But I can’t breathe. I can’t do anything except sob and bleed and pray to a God I’m not sure is listening that I haven’t just killed Alexei’s baby through my own selfishness and weakness.
Time becomes meaningless. It could be minutes or hours that we sit there, Dimitri holding me while I fall apart in his arms. He keeps murmuring reassurances I don’t believe and pressing kisses to my temple like that will somehow make this better.
It won’t. Nothing will.
Because if I lose this baby, it’s my fault. It’s my punishment for having feelings for the wrong brother
The door crashes open and Dr. Petrov rushes in, medical bag in hand. He’s still wearing pajamas under his coat. His hair is wild and his face creased from sleep.
“What happened?” he demands, already pulling out his equipment.
“Bleeding,” Dimitri says tightly. “Severe cramping. She’s twelve weeks—”
“I know how far along she is.” Dr. Petrov sets up quickly. “Mrs. Volkov, I need you to lie back for me. Mr. Volkov, I need you to step back.”
“No.” Dimitri’s arms tighten around me.
“Dimitri—”
“I’m not leaving her,” Dimitri says icily.
Dr. Petrov looks like he wants to argue, but one glance at Dimitri’s face has him nodding tersely. “Fine. But stay out of my way.”
If this wasn’t such a dire situation, I would have laughed at how the kindly doctor easily bosses Dimitri around.
Dr Petrov helps me lie back against the pillows. The towel between my legs is soaked through, more red than white and my stomach cramps again. I whimper, reaching blindly for Dimitri’s hand.
He catches it and holds on so tight it almost hurts.
“I need to do an examination,” Dr. Petrov says gently. “And then an ultrasound.” He meets my eyes. “It’s going to be uncomfortable, but I need to see what’s happening.”
I nod, but I can’t stop crying. I can’t stop thinking please, please, please on repeat like a prayer.
The examination is torture. Every touch sends fresh cramps through my abdomen. More blood wells up, and I hear Dimitri suck in a sharp breath beside me.
“Heavy bleeding,” Dr. Petrov mutters, more to himself than us. “Significant cramping. Let’s see what the ultrasound shows.”
He squirts cold gel on my stomach and presses the wand against my skin. The room fills with static—white noise that makes my heart pound so hard I feel it in my throat.
Please. Please let the baby be okay. I’ll do anything. I’ll never touch Dimitri again. I’ll lock myself in my room and stay away from him. I’ll be faithful to Alexei’s memory like I should have been all along. Just please—
A sound breaks through the static.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Fast and steady and beautiful.
A heartbeat.
“There,” Dr. Petrov says, and there’s clear and palpable relief in his voice. “What a wonderful sound to hear. The heartbeat sounds perfect.”
I make a sound that’s half-sob, half-laugh. Dimitri’s hand squeezes mine so hard my bones grind together.
“The baby’s okay?” he asks hoarsely.
“The baby is fine.” Dr. Petrov moves the wand, and suddenly there’s an image on the screen. Grainy and gray, but unmistakably human-shaped. Tiny arms and legs. A large head. “See? All measurements are normal for twelve weeks. There’s active movement.”
As if to prove the point, the baby shifts on screen. Just a small flutter, but definitely movement.
“Then why—” My voice cracks as I sniffle, the earlier terror being replaced with confusion. “Why is there so much blood?”
“Because of this.” Dr. Petrov points to a dark area on the screen, separate from the baby. “This is a subchorionic hematoma. It’s a collection of blood between the uterine wall and the placenta. It’s fairly common in the first trimester, actually and affects about 25% of pregnancies.”
“Is it dangerous?” Dimitri asks, his face still pale.
“It can be, but in this case it’s relatively small.
Most hematomas resolve on their own by the second trimester.
” Dr. Petrov pulls the wand away and hands me a towel to wipe off the gel.
“The bleeding looks dramatic, but the baby is completely safe. The hematoma is separate from where the baby is implanted.”
The relief is so overwhelming I feel dizzy with it. The baby is okay. Alexei’s baby is okay. I didn’t—
“What does she need to do?” Dimitri asks urgently.
“Strict bed rest for the next week. No strenuous activity—and that includes sex.” Dr. Petrov gives us both a pointed look that makes heat flood my face despite everything.
How did he…? “The bleeding should taper off over the next few days. Some cramping is normal as the hematoma reabsorbs, but if the bleeding gets heavier and by that I mean, if you soak through more than one pad per hour, or if the cramping becomes unbearable, call me immediately.”
He starts packing up his equipment, then pauses. He pulls out a small photo from the ultrasound machine and hands it to Dimitri.
“Your baby,” he says simply.
Dimitri takes it with shaking hands and stares at the image like it holds all the secrets of the universe.
Dr. Petrov leaves with orders to rest, instructions for Mrs. Kozlov about what I can and cannot do, and a promise to check in tomorrow. The door closes behind him and suddenly we’re alone again.
The adrenaline drains out of me all at once, leaving me hollowed out and exhausted. But I can’t look away from Dimitri at the way he’s staring at that ultrasound photo with something that looks like wonder on his face.
“The baby’s okay,” I whisper.
“Yeah.” His voice is rough. “Yeah, the baby’s okay.”
He sits down heavily in the chair beside the bed, still holding the photo. I watch him trace one finger over the tiny form, so gentle it makes my chest ache.
“When did this happen?” he asks quietly.
I tilt my head to the side, confused. “When did what happen?”
He finally looks up at me, and the vulnerability in his eyes shocks me. “When did this baby become so important to me?” He swallows hard, looking tortured. “When did you become—”
He cuts himself off abruptly and looks away. His jaw works like he’s physically forcing words back down his throat.
I know what he was about to say. And I know why he stopped.
Because saying it out loud makes it real. It makes it something we can’t take back or pretend isn’t happening.
So I take pity on him. On both of us.
“You can go back to work now,” I say softly. “I’ll be okay.”
“I don’t think so.” He carefully sets the ultrasound photo on the nightstand. “I’m staying.”
I startle, not expecting that. “Dimitri, you don’t have to.”
“I’m staying, Vera. Today and tomorrow and however long Dr. Petrov says you need to rest.” His tone brooks no argument. “I’m not leaving you alone.”
Part of me wants to protest and tell him he has work to do and an investigation to run. I’ll be fine with Mrs. Kozlov checking on me.
But the larger part—the part that’s still terrified from this morning and still reeling from how close we came to losing this baby—just nods.
“Okay.”
He nods. “I’ll be right back,” he tells me. Within a few moments, he returns with his laptop and sets up in the chair beside my bed. He starts working with the kind of intense focus I’m starting to recognize as his default mode.
But every few minutes, his eyes flick to me like he’s checking and making sure I’m still breathing. Still okay.
When sleep finally pulls me under, the last thing I see is Dimitri bathed in the blue glow of his laptop screen. Still there. Still watching over me.
Protecting what’s his.
I don’t have the energy to wonder anymore when I became part of that category. When the baby became ours instead of just Alexei’s.
When everything changed.
I just close my eyes and let sleep take me, knowing that when I wake up, he’ll still be there.
And somehow, that’s enough.