Chapter Ten
Nikolai
Timur steps into my office without knocking.
He never does this.
Stopping just short of my desk, he produces a thick, black folder. It lands on my desk with a thump.
“Wasn’t that difficult to get.”
Without moving my head, I glance at the label and read: Lauren Watson.
“What’s in this?”
Timur drops into the seat opposite my desk. “Latest news on her whereabouts, life updates, et cetera. Compiled all into one folder so it’s user-friendly.”
I bring the folder closer and set my palm on it.
“Why do you care what’s going on with her?” he asks.
I keep my eyes on the folder. “Because she hasn’t backed off. She’s just gotten smarter.”
Timur seems to hesitate. “Do you want me to take care of her?”
“And bring turbulence to your marriage?”
“Sophia doesn’t have to know the truth, although,” his gaze drifts, “I would prefer not to lie to her. She’s a respectable woman.” He pauses. Shakes it off. “Anyway, Lauren hasn’t been poking around for weeks. What’s the issue?”
“The issue,” I say, straightening in my seat, “is that she has, bratan. She’s just been a little more discreet about it since we slept together. But she hasn’t given up. And you know what that means.”
“That she’s got Aslanov’s attention.”
“Da. Correct.”
“Have you talked to her since?”
“Nyet.” I shut the folder harder than intended and push it away. It’s true. She hasn’t reached out and I’ve been keeping my distance. But that doesn’t mean I’ve let her out of my sight.
“You like her,” Timur states bluntly.
I puff out a breath, ignoring the smug smirk on his face.
It’s irrelevant, and more pressing matters require my attention.
Besides, whether I like Lauren or not, it doesn’t matter.
Not in the grand scheme of things. Although her pink nipples and her gorgeous body as she moves up and down my cock tend to invade my mind in unwelcome moments.
I grunt, brushing thoughts about our night together aside.
“She’s an accident waiting to happen. Too hot-headed, too impulsive. That makes her a recipe for disaster. If she keeps this up, she’s going to cause a fucking disaster and you know it.”
Timur watches me for a moment more and nods slowly, making sense of my words. His eyes study my face like he’s trying to read my thoughts. Then, he pushes himself up from the chair.
“I have to go. Sophia’s getting out of work soon, and I want to bring her dinner.”
“Look at you becoming domesticated.” I smirk. “I don’t remember that being in your marriage contract.”
Timur smirks as he walks towards the door. “It wasn’t.” He leaves my office, clicking the door shut behind him.
Instead of returning to my computer, I heave a sigh and reach for the folder on the table. Perhaps Timur has a point. Perhaps I should stop caring, stop tracking Lauren’s whereabouts, and just leave her to her own devices. Let her get herself into as much trouble as she wants.
Except I wonder if she’s going to drag me along when that happens.
I open the folder again and leaf through the pages. There’s nothing too important, and some of these things I already know. What gym she works out at, her favorite coffee shop, what route she takes to work.
I get ready to close the folder when something catches my eye.
‘Luton’s Medical Practice.’
Medical records.
Interesting.
I scan through the documents. Previous medications, bloodwork, lab results. She took the birth control pill from ages nineteen to twenty-three. That shouldn’t bother me, but knowing that she’s been sexually active with other men somehow makes my blood boil.
I turn the page before I infuriate myself further.
The most recent document was dated just two days ago. She had a doctor’s appointment recently?
I bring the folder closer and read the short note near the bottom of the page. It’s only one sentence. A test result.
‘Pregnancy test: positive.’
My eyes narrow as I read the line again.
Positive?
Yobany Urod!
She’s pregnant?
I immediately shut the folder with a thud and toss it aside, shooting to my feet. Swinging a jacket around my shoulders, I grab my car keys and leave my office.
***
Chert voz’mi!
Does she really think she can keep this information from me?
I take the elevator up to her floor and stride down the corridor until I’m knocking on her door.
I pause and listen.
Nothing.
I go again, this time pounding until she finally opens up. As soon as her eyes navigate to my face, they go wide.
My stomach drops slightly. Blyad, I hate to admit it, but I’ve missed looking into her eyes. Seeing her face up close, for that matter, too.
She wears loungewear. Loose, gray sweatpants paired with a slouchy white t-shirt. She makes even that look good.
I force my eyes back up to her and focus on why I sped here in the first place.
“You shouldn’t be surprised to see me here.”
She says nothing. Just squares her shoulders and sticks her nose in the air, like she’s bracing for my next words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I keep her gaze, narrowing my eyes. She’s lying.
“Is the baby mine?”
Her face changes in an instant. The color drains from her cheeks and her eyes become alert.
She nibbles at the corner of her bottom lip, looking up at me like I’ve won the confrontation.
For a split second, I see her mind racing—searching for a lie, an excuse, anything to deflect.
But we both know there’s no point. The truth is written all over her face.
She doesn’t have to say anything.
I can tell the baby is mine, just from the way she looks at me.
Blyad!
It’s mine?
This is something I didn’t see coming. It complicates matters. But it’s still better than if it was someone else’s.
Lauren sags her shoulders now that the news has been dropped. She searches my eyes like she’s trying to work out how I feel about all of this. I just hope she can figure that out for me, because I certainly don’t know.
All I know is that this changes things. With Ronan Aslanov lurking beneath the depths like a hungry shark, she can’t do this alone. My child in her belly is a weakness. A weakness he can use against all of us.
Blyad!
“You need protection.”
“I came off it. The pill was a mood killer.”
“Not that,” I snap. “My protection.”
She tilts her head. “I can handle myself.”
“No, you can’t.” I say it sternly.
Her lips press together, stopping herself from retaliating. I gather it’s not what she wants to hear, but I’m telling her the truth.
“You underestimate me,” she says, tipping her chin into the air.
“Do I? Then, tell me this.” I step into her space, challenging her in the doorway of her apartment. “Have you told your old man that he’s about to become a grandfather?”
Lauren’s face loses even more color. She knows she’s in trouble, and just like before, she’s incapable of admitting it.
She doesn’t need to answer my question because we both know the truth.