29. Lucian
29
LUCIAN
I see Tatiana as soon as she steps into the warehouse. She looks dangerously pale, and my stomach plummets as I fear she’s injured. But I haven’t seen anyone near her but her men. Then her gaze snaps right, and my feet start to move of their own accord as I wade through the fighting masses to get to her.
She’s not so much fighting with Saturo as she is arguing with him, but my sense of dread continues to grow every second I’m not by her side. She was right. She was right about all of it, and now she’s facing off with the most devious, deceptive man in the room.
She looks dangerously bold and dignified as her chin tips up in a look of defiance. I know that face. Whatever it is they’re arguing about, she’s not giving in to the oyabun ’s demands.
“Damn it, Tatiana,” I growl, my panic rising, and I raise my gun to put a bullet in the yakuza man standing in my path.
I’m almost there, and I surge forward as the path between us clears. Then my vision turns red as Saturo lashes out, backhanding Tatiana with such force that she drops like a stone. With an iron fist around my chest, I throw myself across the last few feet between us, catching Tatiana’s limp form just before she hits the cold cement.
“Tatiana!” I shout, jostling her as I try to look at her face.
Her head lolls dangerously on her neck, her dark hair spilling over my arm, and I catch a glimpse of the quickly purpling welt on her cheek. The bastard knocked her out cold.
“Saturo!” I bellow, raising my gun from my place on the ground as I cradle Tatiana’s body against my chest. But he’s already halfway out the door.
He whistles a shrill call to his men, and the yakuza beat a hasty retreat, the conflict ending almost as abruptly as it began. He left several men behind—bloody corpses that will be floating in the river before morning. And from a cursory glance, I don’t think Tatiana or I lost any men, though several are badly injured.
I’m tempted to send them after Saturo, but the yakuza have a head start and a quick escape—and Tatiana’s well-being is more important. Teaching Saturo a lesson can wait.
“Is she alive?” One of her burly bodyguards limps toward me on what looks like a broken leg, his hand clamped over a gash on his arm that’s bleeding excessively. He must have taken on a very hard opponent—or more than one—just by the number of injuries covering his body.
Her other guard is face down on the ground, though he appears to be breathing as another of her men stoops to check on him.
“She’s alive,” I confirm, dropping my gun so I can cradle her face. Her cheek’s already swelling, and her upper lip is split right near the corner. He must have hit her hard to knock her unconscious with one blow, but I can’t stop thinking about how pale she was before she even started talking to Saturo. As gently as I can, I check the rest of her body for any visible injuries but find nothing. “Was she hurt before she came inside?”
I look back up at her man, and his lips twist into a sardonic smile.
“No, our pakhansha can’t stand the sight of blood.”
It takes a minute for the meaning behind his words to sink in, and another puzzle piece drops into place—why she seemed so disturbed about the way I discipline my men, how she could so quickly sue for peace between our families. My wife—the leader of New York’s most powerful Bratva—can’t stand violence. Somehow, that only makes me love her more.
“You are an enigma, aren’t you?” I murmur, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face.
Slowly shifting so I won’t disrupt her, I lift Tatiana in my arms and stand. Around me, it’s a bloody battlefield.
“Romeo,” I call, and my captain quickly comes to my side.
“Get rid of the bodies and hose down the warehouse. Move the supply—maybe take it to our warehouses on the far end of the port, as far as you can get it without drawing any more unnecessary attention. I’m sure this warehouse will have an inspection after the ruckus from tonight.”
“Sure thing, boss,” he agrees.
“I’ll leave some men to help,” Tatiana’s guard says.
“No, you’ve all risked more than enough,” I state. “This is my mess. We’ll clean it up. I can’t put Tatiana’s men at further risk when she’s not even conscious to make the call. Get them back home safe for her? You can come check on her at the compound once you’re patched up if you’d like—or take the day off. I’ll ensure Tatiana is safe and well cared for until you return.”
Tatiana’s guard studies me for a long moment, his dark gaze assessing, as if to ensure he can trust me at my word. But then he extends his hand to grasp my shoulder. “Thank you.” Then his eyes cast down to Tatiana. “You’re lucky she’s got such a good heart. The rest of us would have let you die.”
“I know.”
“We’re lucky too. Leaders like her don’t come along often. So you better look after her. If I find out you’ve done anything to put her at risk in my absence, I will kill you when I find you.”
I’m not sure whether I should be impressed or frustrated by the number of men who have threatened to kill me in Tatiana’s defense. I suppose that’s what happens when my wife is the single most sought-after woman in New York. She deserves their protection—not that she’ll ever need it. Not from me.
My on-call doctor is already waiting for me when the car pulls into the compound, and I’m relieved because Tatiana still hasn’t regained consciousness. Unwilling to hand her off to anyone, I carry her up to our bedroom and put her gently on the bed.
Dr. Rossi knows better than to ask questions, and he pulls on a pair of rubber gloves before he leans in to inspect the quickly purpling bruise on Tatiana’s swollen cheek. He gently parts her lips, checking inside her mouth, and I’m grateful when he states that Tasuro didn’t manage to break any teeth or cut her gums.
It eats at me through the entire exam—that I’m the reason my wife is lying here unconscious. She never would have been there tonight if I hadn’t insisted on going through with the deal. I let her be my backup. And when she proved her instincts were right, she’s the one who got hurt, not me. I never should have questioned her judgment.
“I want to take some blood work, just to make sure she didn’t suffer any injuries that are less apparent to the eye,” Dr. Rossi explains, and I nod, gesturing for him to do whatever he thinks best as I keep my eyes on Tatiana’s beautiful face.
She looks peaceful, almost like she could just be sleeping, except for the angry bruise turning her cheek a bluish purple. And when the doc goes to run his results, I settle onto the edge of the bed so I can take her delicate hand in mine. Her nails are painted their usual crimson. They’re shaped to perfection, and it hits me then that Tatiana is so meticulous about the image she presents to the world, that sometimes I can forget she’s not indestructible.
The guilt gnawing at my stomach is agonizing, and I gently run the backs of my fingers over her uninjured cheek, willing her to wake up.
Dr. Rossi clears his throat as he comes back into the room. “Well, it would appear Mrs. Agosti has a concussion. With enough sleep and a few days’ rest, she should be alright, but if she has any severe headaches or memory loss, don’t hesitate to call me. Ice would help minimize that cheek’s bruising. Otherwise, her vitals look good. She and the baby look quite healthy in fact.”
“Baby?” My head snaps up at the word, and I look at Dr. Rossi as if I’m really seeing him for the first time. “I’m sorry, did you say baby? Tatiana’s pregnant?”
The gray-haired doctor gives me a knowing smile. “Yes, I suppose congratulations are in order. It looks like she’s about a month along. She might not even know she’s pregnant yet if she’s not experiencing any early signs. Has she been feeling tired lately or throwing up?”
“No…not that I’m aware of.” I run the last few days back in my mind but can’t think of any time—except for tonight, right before she came into the warehouse.
My stomach knots as I realize I didn’t just put Tatiana in danger. I put our unborn child at risk. I’m not sure anything could make me feel more awful.
But I’m going to be a father?
My heart swells as I look back down at my wife’s face.
“I’ll leave you with some Tylenol in case she’s experiencing any mild discomfort, though I would recommend spreading out the dosage. And again, call me if any symptoms worsen.”
“When will she wake up?”
Again, Dr. Rossi gives me a soft smile. “When she’s ready.”
I nod. “Thank you, Doctor.”
The room feels agonizingly quiet after he finishes collecting his tools and leaves. It’s just me and Tatiana, and though I know I should go dispose of my clothes and wash the blood off my body, I can’t seem to bring myself to leave Tatiana’s side.
She’s pregnant? Tatiana’s carrying my child?
Emotions flood me—joy, excitement, anticipation. I’m anxious to know how Tatiana will react when she finds out. She knew it was an eventuality. We discussed it before we even got married, and it’s not like we’ve been using protection, but I’m still surprised it happened so quickly. Then again, I’ve spent every spare second I have making love to her, so is it really that surprising?
I sit with her for what feels like minutes, but when I look up, I find the sun slowly creeping over the horizon outside our window. I need to clean myself up before Tatiana wakes. If she doesn’t like the sight of blood and she’s starting to feel morning sickness, she shouldn’t see me in this state.
Quickly, I strip my clothes, tossing them on the bathroom floor with the intention of burning them—like I do any outfit that might place me at the scene of a crime. Then I step into the shower and rinse the night’s violence from my body.
It’s oddly touching to realize that Tatiana insisted on leading her men to provide me with backup knowing that she can’t stand the sight of blood. It feels like everything I learn about Tatiana makes me love her more.
She might be the most fiery, stubborn, high-spirited woman I’ve ever met, but I love the challenges she gives me. I value her opinion more than anyone else I know. She’s smart—probably smarter than me. And underneath all that intelligence and strength and ambition is a woman with a heart of gold. Sometimes, I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to call her mine.
I can only hope that someday, I’ll be worthy of her.
Stepping out of the shower, I grab a towel and wrap it around my waist. Then I grab my pile of bloody clothes and head to the sink. I’ll take them down with the trash after Tatiana wakes. Tipping the bin, I’m halfway finished dropping the soiled fabric into it when something catches my eye, and I pause. Slowly withdrawing the pile of clothes, I drop them on the floor to carefully extract the thin strip of plastic I saw.
My heart stutters to a halt in my chest. It’s a pregnancy test—and the two pink lines tell me it’s positive.
Tatiana knew.
She already knew and she didn’t tell me. But for how long? I scan the contents of the trash, looking for a receipt—anything that would indicate when she took the test. But I find nothing.
I can’t be certain how long she’s known. Only Tatiana can say. But one thing’s for certain. She’s been keeping it a secret, and that disturbs me deeply, because I genuinely thought we were reaching a turning point as a couple. I knew that, while it wasn’t the best way to go about the start of our relationship, forcing Tatiana’s hand was really the only way I could get her to marry me.
Since then, I’ve tried to make up for my mistakes. I’ve apologized. I’ve shown her through every way I can think of that my feelings for her are genuine. But it would seem nothing I do will convince her. Maybe what she said in Positano is the truth of the matter—what I’ve done is unforgivable. She can never love me. That possibility is soul crushing.
I should be thrilled that we’re going to have a child together. But instead, all I feel is guilt and rejection. Because clearly Tatiana doesn’t care for me any more than she did on our wedding day if she’s been keeping this secret from me.
My only hope is that she found out today and wanted to wait to tell me once the deal with Saturo was done—because there’s no way in hell I would have let her come tonight if I had known she was pregnant. I’m furious with her for keeping it from me for even that long, but I desperately want to believe that’s the reason she didn’t say anything. The alternative is unbearable.
I guess I’ll have to wait and get my answer when Tatiana wakes up.