Chapter 14 Amara
AMARA
The ultrasound tech smiles as the wand slides over my belly. “It’s a boy.”
“See?” I say to Ransome, pointing at the screen. “I told you.”
“So sue me for wanting to see it for myself.”
“Well, it’s right there. Outdoor plumbing. Can’t miss it.”
The tech giggles at my sarcasm, but Ransome’s attention is still locked on the screen.
“Is he strong?” He cocks his head a little. “He looks strong.”
“Your son is very strong,” the tech says. “This little lady has done an amazing job taking care of herself. You two are going to make great parents.”
She presses a button and it spits out two photos, which she hands to Ransome and me. Then she cleans me up and turns the lights back on.
“So everything looks good?” I ask.
“Everything looks marvelous, Amara. You’ll be looking at a healthy, seven to eight-pound baby.”
“Seven to eight pounds?” I ask with wide eyes.
“Is that good?” Ransome asks.
“It’s big,” I say, a little terrified, but the tech only grins.
“It’s the perfect size and you will do great. I have a feeling you are just as strong as the little guy inside of you.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“You are.” Ransome’s conviction surprises me. “You’re going to do great.”
He keeps a straight face, but by now, I can read him well enough to see a hint of a smile in there somewhere. A hint of warmth.
I ogle over the black and white photo of the baby. He’s gotten so big. I still can’t believe I’m making a little human all by myself.
No. Not all by myself.
With Ransome.
“There’s just one thing I would advise,” the tech says.
“Why?” Ransome is immediately on high alert. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m slightly concerned about your blood pressure, Amara.”
“I had a feeling you’d say that,” I mumble. “So what do I need to do? More exercise? Eat better?”
“Both of those things are advised, of course. But honestly, just reducing stress. Your due date is fast approaching. It’s time to start taking it easy, making sure your environment is warm and calm. Nesting is a great way to help with that. Have you made your nursery yet?”
“Not yet,” I say, trying to imagine a nursery in the penthouse.
“It’s a good place to start,” she says.
“So keep calm, fill a room in the house with baby stuff. Is that it?” Ransome asks.
“It’s more than just being calm and going shopping,” she says with a patient smile. “Harmony in the home is the key. No chaos, no drama. Just a nice, peaceful home, you know?”
I have to bite back a laugh. She’s kidding, right? I guess she’s probably not. All of that makes sense for a normal life. In a normal world.
Just not ours.
Ransome opens my car door for me and waits patiently while I lower myself inside.
Who knew that carrying such a tiny little person could make it so difficult to move?
I feel three times my normal size and I haven’t even gained that much weight.
Still, I feel like a Cruiser, awkwardly trying to parallel park in a compact spot.
“I think we need an SUV,” I say as soon as Ransome gets in the car.
“You don’t like my car?” he asks.
“I don’t fit in your car,” I mutter.
“You’re being dramatic.”
“You’re being dishonest.”
“You look beautiful,” he says, and I literally have nothing to say to that. I’m not used to this more patient, less angry, emotionless mobster version of him.
As we drive, he’s quiet. I can tell his mind is back at the clinic. “Anything you’re worried about?” I ask.
“Just trying to figure out the best way to implement the low-stress plan,” he says. Meanwhile, he takes a turn I don’t remember as far as directions to the penthouse go.
“You mean you don’t think our lives are low stress?” I joke but he doesn’t smile.
“This is serious, Amara. High blood pressure can wreak havoc on a pregnancy, especially in the third trimester.”
“Okay. So are you going to tell the Chadovichs or should I?” I ask and he gives me a side-eye.
“You don’t need to worry about the Chadovichs. I’ll take care of that. All you need to worry about is making sure our baby is okay.”
Ransome takes another turn and we are suddenly winding through a gated community made up of houses that could only be described as mansions. They are scattered throughout the hills, each one with enough land to have privacy. It’s gorgeous, but I am confused.
“Where are we going?” I ask him.
“Home,” he says as we drive deeper into what I can only describe as the northeast version of billionaire row.
“That’s funny,” I tell him. “I don’t remember the penthouse being around here.”
“It’s not,” he says. “I sold the penthouse.”
I peel my eyes away from the elaborate houses to look at him. “You did? When?”
“When you left. I had no use for it anymore.”
“Oh…” I trail off as I connect the dots, realizing for the first time where we are going.
Ransome turns down a drive where he keys in a code and a giant, golden gate opens up. We follow a line of trees and fancy street lamps before the foliage opens up, revealing a massive, sprawling house.
“Where are we?” I ask with my mouth open.
“Home,” he says as he parks and gets out.
I wait for him to open my door, half because I am loving the chivalry and half because I am in shock.
“You live here?” I ask, my jaw still dragging on the ground.
“You live here,” he tells me, taking my hand and tugging me along. It’s like my feet don’t want to move. Because holy fucking blank check.
We make our way inside through doors that have to be fifteen feet tall.
The foyer alone is as big as the living area at my house back in Montana.
All the floors are marble, along with the countertops and the bathrooms. A staircase winds up to the second floor, where I count five bedroom doors.
There’s also a gym, a theatre room, a pool, and a patio with a bar and a garden.
“Ransome…” I sit down on the giant leather sectional, which nearly swallows me whole. “This is wild.”
“Do you think you’ll be comfortable here?” he asks, bringing me a glass of water.
“Are you kidding?” I smile as he sits down next to me. “I don’t even know what to say. It’s like a castle.”
“I’m glad you’ll be happy.” He sees me jump a little and his eyes narrow. “What is it? What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing’s wrong. The baby just moved.”
“He did?” His eyes dart around my belly.
“Yes! Here, give me your hand.”
I grab Ransome’s hand and place it on my belly, moving it around until he feels it too. A tiny foot presses against the skin and into his hand, and Ransome’s jaw pops. And I swear it’s the first time I’ve seen him at a loss.
“What—” he asks.
“That was a foot,” I tell him.
“Does it hurt?”
“Sometimes. Like when he kicks me in the ribs.” Ransome’s lips tug upward in the corners. I find myself staring at his smile—a real smile!—until he can feel it. His eyes drag back up to mine, his hands still on my belly.
Then I tip my chin up and at the same time, he tips his down and our mouths connect.
Ransome’s jaw works to part my lips and his tongue finds mine. My eyes close and my back arches as I press my body into his. Then I reach up and with our lips still together, I undo the first button on his charcoal gray button down.
But before I can move onto the next, he pulls back and stands up. Then he takes his phone from his pocket, which is buzzing with a phone call.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“I have to go,” he mutters.
“Work?” I ask but he doesn’t answer. Which means yes. And not the Apex kind.
“That’s okay,” I tell him, hugging my knees. “Will you be back for dinner?”
Ransome pulls another phone out and hands it to me. The burner. “The fridge is stocked with healthy snacks and meals. And if you don’t see anything you want, you can use that phone to order something. Ivan will pick it up for you, he has access to the gates.”
“Okay…” I trail off. I don’t know why I am surprised. This is his life. I remember this life. I don’t know why I was naive enough to think that it would be different. “Do you know when you’ll be home?” I ask as he tugs a jacket on. Then he rebuttons his top button.
“I won’t be back tonight. I actually stay at the other estate most of the time.”
“The other estate?” I echo. “But I thought this was your home.”
“My father’s estate. That I inherited when I became pakhan.”
He’s pakhan?
I mean, obviously he is. He turned thirty. Still, I guess I didn’t think about all of it. I was too busy swooning at the idea of us being a family. Which is honestly kind of ridiculous.
“Right,” I nod, pretending like I’m not sad that he’s leaving. “So… you don’t know when you’re coming back?”
“No. But you can always reach me. Never hesitate to text. From the burner.”
“Why that phone?” I ask.
“Because it’s secure,” he states. “Amara, some things might have changed since you came back. But a lot of things are very much the same. Even more so, really. And you’re going to have to get used to it.”
With that, he leaves me in a giant house all alone.
Get used to it? I was used to it. I was living in the trenches of it. And I wasn’t dumb enough to think that things would magically be different, at least not as far as his job goes. But as I sit on his couch, running my fingers over the movement in my belly, I can’t help but feel sad.
Once again, I am with Ransome Rozanov, but not really with him. Once again, I am surrounded by things that look like him, smell like him, feel like him. But not him.
That’s because Ransome Rozanov is a Bratva pakhan. The most important position in his world. And I’m just the woman carrying his son. A son that he probably already has in mind to make the next Bratva pakhan. Whether I like it or not.
But just like every other detail of my life gone wrong, there isn’t really anything I can do about it.