Chapter 18Jenny
CHAPTER 18
JENNY
I wake to sunlight streaming through the windows of Ivan’s penthouse. His strong arms encircle me, and I bask in the moment, savoring the intimacy we’ve built.
Carefully, I extract myself from his embrace, padding softly to the kitchen. The cool marble floor makes my feet cold while I prepare coffee before I adapt. While it brews, I stare out the window and then lean against the counter, sipping from a steaming mug while appreciating the flavor.
My phone buzzes, and I see a message from Marcus: “I have the final results. When can we meet?”
I type a quick reply, suggesting we meet at the office in an hour. As I set down my phone, Ivan snakes his arms around my waist from behind.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep.
I turn in his arms, offering him a sip of my coffee. “Sleep well?”
He nods, taking the mug. “Always with you.”
The admission warms my heart. I’ve fallen for him, despite the complications and dangers that come with his world.
“I need to head to the office,” I say, reluctantly pulling away. “So do you.”
“I’d rather take you back to bed.” With a sigh, he turns and walks back to the bedroom and to the bathroom beyond. I follow him, and we shower together.
An hour later, I’m seated across from Marcus in my office. He slides a leather folder across the desk. “This should be everything,” he says.
I open the folder with trembling hands. A few more photos of Ivan as a child—playing in the snow, sitting at a classroom desk, and standing beside a kind-looking woman, who must be a caretaker. Each image offers a glimpse into the past of the man I’ve come to care for so deeply.
“Thank you, Marcus,” I say with gratitude. “This means… I couldn’t have done it without your help.”
He nods, a hint of understanding in his expression. “Ivan’s past isn’t easy, but it made him who he is. It might be good for him to have a connection to that, so I’m glad to have helped.”
As he leaves, I begin the painstaking process of arranging the photos and notes into a leather-bound album that I brought with me for the task, along with the items Marcus gave me before. Hours pass while I carefully place each image, adding handwritten captions garnered from the reports to guide Ivan through the story of his childhood.
The locket photos take center stage—now I understand why they’re so precious to him. Seeing young Ivan’s solemn face, I ache for the child who lost so much.
As I put the finishing touches on the album, I’m excited but nervous. This gift will affect Ivan deeply, and I hope it brings him some measure of peace.
A week later, I rush through the halls of “Markov Entertainment.” The office party at “The Georgian Terrace” is tonight, and my to-do list seems endless. As I round the corner, Natalia’s voice stops me in my tracks.
“Jenny, the caterers need the final headcount for tonight.”
I suppress a groan. “I’ll handle it after the meeting, I promise.”
She nods. “Don’t forget. They’re getting antsy.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
I hurry into the conference room, sliding into my seat just as the meeting begins. Ivan sits at the head of the table, his presence commanding as always. As the discussion progresses, a wave of nausea hits me. I try to ignore it, focusing on the financial projections on the screen, but the feeling intensifies. “Excuse me,” I mutter, standing abruptly. “I need some air.”
I barely make it to the bathroom before emptying the contents of my stomach. Gripping the cool porcelain, I take deep breaths. This isn’t the first time I’ve felt off lately, but I’d chalked it up to the stress of planning the party on such short notice.
After splashing water on my face, I return to the conference room. The meeting has ended, and Ivan’s concerned gaze locks onto me.
“Jenny, are you all right?” His voice carries a note of worry.
I wave off his concern. “Just a stomach bug. Nothing to worry about.”
Ivan’s eyes narrow. “You’ve been looking pale lately. Perhaps you should see a doctor.”
“Already ahead of you,” I say, forcing a smile. “I have an appointment in an hour.”
He nods, seemingly satisfied. “Good. Take care of yourself. The company needs you at your best.” He lowers his voice. “So do I.”
As I gather my things to leave, my mind races. A stomach bug. That’s all it is. It has to be. The alternative... I push away the thought, unwilling to consider the possibilities. In the elevator, I slouch against the wall, closing my eyelids. The doctor will confirm it’s just stress or a minor illness. Nothing more. Nothing life-changing.
The doors open, and I step out into the lobby. Andre, my ever-present shadow, falls into step beside me. Daniil must already be in the SUV.
“Ready to go, Ms. Graham?”
I nod, comforted by his presence. I’ve gotten used to them. As we walk to the SUV, I’m concerned it’s not just a stomach bug. Rather, I suspect I’m about to meet the consequences of my actions.
“Jennifer Graham?” A nurse in pale blue scrubs calls my name from the doorway, her clipboard held against her chest.
I stand, my legs shaky as I follow her down the sterile hallway. The antiseptic smell makes my stomach roll. Andre and Daniil wait in the lobby. I insisted on privacy for this visit.
“Right in here.” The nurse gestures to an exam room. “I’ll need a urine sample first. The bathroom is right across the hall.”
She hands me a small plastic cup. My fingers tremble as I take it. In the bathroom, I manage to provide the sample, though my hands shake so badly I nearly drop it. In the exam room, I perch on the edge of the paper-covered table. The crinkle of the paper seems deafening in the quiet room. The nurse takes my vitals—temperature, weight, and blood pressure.
“Dr. Matthews will be in shortly,” she says with a reassuring smile before stepping out.
I stare at the anatomical posters on the wall, trying not to think about why I’m here. The minutes tick by slowly. A knock at the door makes me jump.
A man in his fifties with salt-and-pepper hair enters, reading from a chart. “Ms. Graham?” He looks up with kind eyes. “I’m Dr. Matthews.”
“Hi.” My voice comes out as a squeak.
He sits on the rolling stool, reviewing my chart. “So, what brings you in today?”
“I’ve been feeling nauseated. Throwing up in the mornings, and...” I swallow hard. “I’m late.”
He nods, making notes. “When was your last menstrual period?”
I think back, counting the weeks. “About five weeks ago.”
“And you’re sexually active?”
My cheeks burn. “Yes.”
He makes another note. “We ran a test on your urine sample.” He looks up, his expression gentle. “Ms. Graham, you’re pregnant.”
The words hit me. Pregnant. I’m pregnant.
“We’ll need to do some blood work and schedule an ultrasound to confirm dates.”
His voice fades to background noise as my mind races. That would put conception right around... The first time Ivan and I were together. That passionate, unplanned encounter that changed everything between us.
“Ms. Graham?” Dr. Matthews’ voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts. “Do you have any questions?”
Questions? I have a thousand questions. How will Ivan react? Will this put me in more danger? What does this mean for us? “Uh…” I stare at him blankly. “I need a few minutes.”
“Of course.” He rises and leaves the room.
I sit on the cold examination table, the paper crinkling beneath me as I shift uncomfortably. The doctor’s words echo in my mind. “Ms. Graham, you’re pregnant.” I rest my hand on my still-flat stomach and try to wrap my head around the reality growing inside me.
Ivan’s child. Our child.
My emotions swirl like a tempest. Fear grips me when I imagine Ivan’s reaction. Will he see this as a betrayal? A calculated move to trap him? I know how much he values control, and this pregnancy is anything but planned.
Yet, beneath the anxiety, a tiny spark of hope flickers to life. A baby. Our baby. The thought sends a rush of warmth through me, unexpected and overwhelming. For a moment, I allow myself to imagine a future where this child brings us closer, where Ivan’s protective nature extends to our little family, and where he’s happy about the news even though we’re surrounded by danger.
I shake my head, trying to clear the fantasy. I can’t get ahead of myself. First, I need to tell Ivan, and that conversation terrifies me.
The sterile smell of the examination room suddenly feels suffocating. I stand, pacing the small space. My mind races with questions. How will this affect my job? My safety? The delicate balance we’ve struck between Ivan’s world and mine?
A soft knock at the door startles me. Dr. Matthews pokes his head in. “Ms. Graham? Are you ready to discuss your options?”
I nod, sinking back onto the examination table. “Yes, I think so.”
He enters, closing the door behind him. “I know this is a lot to process. Do you have any questions for me?”
I hesitate before asking, “Is everything...okay? With the baby, I mean.”
Dr. Matthews smiles reassuringly. “From what we can tell at this stage, yes. There are no immediate red flags, but we’ll need to get labs before you leave to check hormone levels and your baseline health. We’ll want to schedule an ultrasound in the next week or two to confirm dates and check for a heartbeat.”
A heartbeat. The word sends a jolt through me. This is real. There’s a life growing inside me. “What about... risks?” I ask hesitantly. “I’m healthy, but my life… job can be stressful.”
He nods. “Stress is something we’ll want to monitor. It’s important to find ways to relax and take care of yourself. Are you in a situation where you can reduce your workload if needed?”
I almost laugh. I simply nod. “I’ll figure something out.” I already know Ivan will want me to quit and be at home, trapped in the penthouse, at the slightest hint of any issue. It will be a battle to keep working more than to get time off.
“Good. Then let’s talk about prenatal care and what to expect in the coming weeks.”
As Dr. Matthews outlines vitamins, dietary changes, and future appointments, my mind drifts. How am I going to tell Ivan? When? Should I wait until after the ultrasound? The questions swirl endlessly.
“Ms. Graham?” Dr. Matthews’ voice cuts through my thoughts. “Do you have any other questions?”
I blink, refocusing on him. “No, I don’t think so. Not right now, at least.”
He hands me a stack of pamphlets. “These cover the basics of what we discussed. Please call if you have any concerns or questions, and congratulations, Ms. Graham.”
Congratulations. The word feels surreal. I manage a weak smile as I gather my things and head for the door. Andre is waiting in the lobby, his imposing figure drawing curious glances from other patients.
He stands as I approach, and his expression is carefully neutral. “Everything okay, Ms. Graham?”
I nod, not trusting my voice. I can feel his concerned gaze on me. I know he’ll report back to Ivan, and for a moment, I consider telling him the truth, but no, Ivan needs to hear this from me directly.