Chapter 43
AMALIE
“Come. Let us talk. Away from all of this.”
Roman doesn’t let me stay in the basement for much longer. He wraps an arm around me and together we head up the stairs. As we pass the interrogation room, I steal a glance inside. Andrei already has the man’s body bagged and is in the middle of spraying down the floor.
The reason for all the stainless steel suddenly becomes horribly clear.
Roman reaches out and closes the door, the sound of spraying water abruptly ending. He guides me with just enough force to keep me moving, understanding this is the last place I should be right now.
We enter the kitchen, where he pours me a glass of water and places it in my hands.
I take small sips as he leads me to his office, the water heaven in my dry mouth.
Once in the office, he turns on the fire and leads me to the couch.
Flames throw light across his face, catching his eyes, the contrast of the danger and the humanity highlighted.
He crouches in front of me, taking my hands into his. “You’re shaking,” he says softly.
“I just watched you kill a man,” I whisper.
“Yes.”
“And then I told you I was pregnant.”
“Yes.”
“And that’s after we narrowly avoided death at an art gala.”
“Yes.”
“So… not exactly the most normal evening.”
A tiny whisper of a smile. “It is not. But it is real.”
He takes my hands and presses them flat against his chest. His heart is racing. “You’re not alone in this,” he says. “Not for one second. Whatever feels too heavy, give it to me. I will carry it.”
My throat tightens. “Roman, I’m scared.”
He doesn’t brush it off. Doesn’t tell me it’s nothing. Doesn’t tell me I’m going to be fine.
“Good,” he says. “Fear means you understand the stakes.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“It is honest.”
He shifts, lowering himself until he’s kneeling on both knees, his forehead brushing my thigh. The sight of him there, this man who inspires fear in the most hardened criminals of this city, has an effect on me that I can’t even begin to describe.
In that moment, the reality of everything that’s happened, the weight of it, hits me hard.
“They wanted to kill us,” I say, my voice shaking. “They wanted to kill me, you, our baby. And they came cl—”
He shakes his head. “There is no need to finish that sentence. They tried. They failed. And now they will pay the price.” His voice hardens. “Someone tried to take what’s mine. Whoever they are, tonight they crossed a line that cannot be uncrossed.”
I swallow. “Yeah. And that’s what scares me.”
He leans in, pressing his ear against my belly. The sight of it brings a smile to my lips. “He’s not nearly big enough for you to hear anything,” I say. “He’s like the size of a grain of rice right now.”
He flicks his eyes up to me. “He?”
Why did I say he? “I wasn’t thinking. It just came out. It’s way too early to tell.”
Roman flashes me a small smile before the serious-as-hell expression returns. He splays his huge hand across my belly. The sensation comforts me.
“And this,” he says, “is why I will never hesitate to do whatever it takes.” His hands curve around my hips—careful, possessive, reverent.
“You are my woman,” he says. “You’re carrying my child.
And anyone who threatens either of your lives, or the life of my son, immediately forfeits their own life. On this, there is no negotiation.”
Part of me wants to argue, to push back against the darkness, the violence implicit in his words. Instead, I weave my fingers into his hair.
“I don’t need you to kill anyone else,” I say. “I just need you to be here. With me.”
He lifts his head, eyes burning, and presses a kiss to my stomach. “I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”
That’s exactly what I want.