33. Sasha
33
SASHA
“I’m fine,” I try to argue as Damien carries me to the car like I weigh nothing. “I can walk.”
He doesn’t even flinch. “You’re going to the hospital.”
“But I’m not even bleeding.”
He gives me a look—the look—the one that says there is no point in fighting this man when he’s made up his mind. And right now, his mind is razor-focused on me and the small life growing inside of me.
I sigh, but don’t argue again. Because if I’m honest…I kind of want to go too.
The moment we pull into the hospital, he’s all business—directing his men, telling one to take Roman away and another to secure the perimeter. He mutters something under his breath like I’ll deal with him later , and I believe him. I’ve never seen Damien so cold, so still with fury—but the second his hand finds mine, his voice softens like a switch flipping.
“Come on,” he says gently. “Let’s make sure the baby’s okay.”
The baby.
It hits harder than I expect. His words. His hand. His presence. I wish Damien had been here the first day when I found out.
He didn’t run.
He didn’t leave.
He came.
The ultrasound room is bright and sterile, but somehow I feel safer than I have in days. I’m lying back on the little table, my shirt rolled up over my stomach. Damien’s next to me, holding my hand like I might float away if he lets go.
The gel is cold. I shiver a little. The technician smiles and moves the probe across my belly.
And then…there it is.
That fluttering movement on the screen.
A little pulse of life.
“That’s your baby,” the technician says, turning the screen so we can both see.
Damien goes completely still.
His thumb brushes across the back of my hand, and when I glance up, his eyes are locked on the monitor.
He doesn’t blink.
He looks like he’s seeing a miracle.
“Heartbeat is strong,” the doctor says. “Everything looks great.”
My chest floods with relief. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I exhale it all in one go. The technician excuses himself, leaving us to ourselves.
But Damien’s still staring.
“You okay?” I ask him softly.
He nods, but his voice cracks a little. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to see something like this. Not with everything I’ve done.”
I squeeze his hand. “You don’t have to be perfect to deserve love, Damien.”
His eyes flick down to meet mine. There’s so much in them—remorse, awe, fear, and something else…something softer.
“I thought I was protecting you by keeping you away,” he says, voice low. “But I was just protecting myself. From how much I need you.”
I blink fast, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“You came for me,” I whisper. “You saved me.”
“I’d die for you,” he replies without hesitation. “But I’d rather live for you. For both of you.”
A tear slips down my cheek. I don’t wipe it away.
“I love you,” I say, the words rushing out, wild and sure. “Even after everything. Maybe because of everything. I love you, Damien.”
His hand cups my cheek as he leans in, forehead to mine.
“I’ve loved you since the first time you cursed me out in an elevator,” he murmurs.
“Are you mad at me?” I ask quietly.
His head snaps toward me, eyes narrowing just slightly in confusion. “What?”
“For not telling you sooner. About the baby,” I murmur, cheeks hot. “I was scared. I didn’t know how you’d take it, and then everything happened so fast and?—”
“Sasha,” he says, cutting me off with just my name.
His thumb strokes over my knuckles, steady and warm.
“I could never be mad at you. Never.”
I look at him, at the seriousness etched into every line of his face, and something tight in my chest finally loosens.
“You were carrying our child,” he says, softer now. “Alone. In danger. And still fighting. You think I could ever be angry at that? At you?”
My eyes sting again.
He leans down, presses a kiss to my forehead, lingering there as he whispers, “I’m the one who should’ve been there sooner. You don’t owe me anything, Sasha. But you have me. Completely.”
God, I’m so gone for this man.
“How can I make it up to you?” he says.
“You already have,” I say, squeezing his hand, but then I think of something. “Well, there’s one thing—you can kick Brittany out of the company.”
He frowns. “Who the hell is Brittany?”
“Really? You don’t know her? Well, she seemed to know you pretty well. In fact, she’s the one who programmed your number in my phone when she dared me to send that risqué text, the one that got us talking.”
“Really?” he says, a glint in his eyes. “Well in that case, that girl is not going anywhere because she led me to the love of my life.”
My heart skips a beat. “You’re right, I’m being hormonal.”
“Nah,” he says. “But a transfer to the document control department should set her straight. People say that’s the worst department we have.”
My mouth drops open. Oh, how much I love this man.
We’re walking out of the hospital, his hand wrapped firmly around mine, when he suddenly stops near the car.
The air is cool. Crisp. My body’s tired, but my heart is still sprinting.
He opens the car door for me, but doesn’t usher me in. Instead, he looks at me like he’s weighing something—measuring every unspoken word between us.
“You don’t have to come with me,” he says quietly.
I blink. “What?”
“You can go back to your apartment. I’ll have security stationed nearby—hell, I’ll have them living under your floorboards if I have to,” he adds with a faint smile. “But this time…it’s your choice. I won’t keep you unless you want to be with me.”
My breath catches.
He’s letting me go if that’s what I want.
No pressure. No persuasion. No power moves.
Mom was right. He’s nothing like my father.
Just a man stripped bare.
A man I love. And someone who loves me back.
I glance down at my stomach. At the baby we made. At the future we’re somehow building in the ashes of all this chaos.
Then I look up at him and smile.
“I’m coming with you,” I say. “And not because you’re scary or dramatic.”
His lips twitch.
“But because I want to,” I finish.
His jaw clenches like he’s holding back something overwhelming, and I swear I catch the tiniest glint in his eyes as he reaches for me and presses his forehead to mine.
“Then let’s go home,” he says.