Chapter 27
Ryder
I should feel better. I made a real decision without outside influence. I didn’t make the decision because of guilt, the husband I never wanted, or because it’s what’s best for business.
This was my choice.
And yet my chest still feels tight. Leaving the clinic, nothing feels real. It’s like all of my senses are dulled by what I just heard in that little private room. A heartbeat on a monitor.
Nine weeks.
Miami’s sounds became even more muffled inside the car.
Just last week I woke to a dark blue SUV in our driveway, a gift from Liev.
When I asked him about it, he said it was for practicality.
My car was totaled after the accident, and I was the kind of woman who wanted independence, not a chauffeur.
He was right about that; but there was something more to the purchase. He didn’t need to get me such a high-end vehicle. I’d looked it over quickly when he left that day. No tracker, so maybe things really were turning a corner.
Maybe he trusted me.
Maybe I trusted him?
My fingers curl into the hem of my shirt, breath held with the secret I’m still keeping—literally, because I have no idea when I’m going to tell him. Nine weeks.
A week ago, everything felt unstable. Attacks, shifting alliances, my father’s presence in Miami like a shadow I couldn’t shake. Now, things have gone quiet again. Too quiet, maybe, but still no new threats. No new chaos.
Throwing the car into drive, I pull out onto the street and start heading home. A part of me wants to tell someone so badly. Strange that I’ve never felt so alone despite being home and close to my mother; despite being married.
When do I tell him?
The rest of the short trip home is mindless, a blur on autopilot. But by the time I’ve stepped into the house, my shoulders relax and the tension seeps out of them. Liev is gone by now, heading down to the Keys for meetings that would keep him away for at least a few days.
I’ll have some space.
Time to think.
Time to decide what I’m going to do.
I turn, and there he is.
Liev stands in the living room, one hand resting against the back of the couch, his eyes locked on me. He looks like he’s been waiting for me.
My heart stumbles.
“You haven’t left yet?” I say, my voice steady enough to pass.
His eyes narrow slightly as he takes me in. “Where were you?” The question is quiet. Direct.
“I—” I start, then stop.
Too slow. Too uncertain. His expression shifts almost imperceptibly, something darker slipping into place as he pushes off the couch and starts toward me.
My pulse spikes.
He closes the distance quickly, stopping just in front of me, close enough that I can feel the heat of him and the weight of his full attention. This is the man I married, the Pakhan who rose to power after decades of building an empire.
His gaze drags over me, slow and thorough, like he’s searching for something I can’t hide.
“Plans changed,” he murmurs. “I leave tonight. But where were you, Ryder? I thought my wife would be home to see me off.”
There’s no way he delayed the trip just to say goodbye, is there? Searching his face quickly, I see his cheeks just above his trim beard go pink, as if I’ve read his mind. But the hard edge to his voice hasn’t dissipated.
He wants to know where I’ve been.
My heart is pounding hard enough that I’m sure he can see it, feel it, read it in every small movement I make. I haven’t had time to think about how to tell him, or when to tell him, or to reassure myself that he won’t lose his mind.
Surely the last thing Liev Demsky would want is a weakness, a vulnerability.
“I just had some errands to run. It’s only a few days, Liev, but if you feel like you need a sendoff…” I smirk, trailing my hand up his abdomen, feeling the muscles tense beneath my fingertips.
The last thing I feel right now is sexy, but if it distracts him…
He doesn’t take the bait.
Instead, his hand lifts, gently taking hold of my wrist and stopping the slow seduction.
“You didn’t answer me,” he says.
My mouth goes dry.
I could tell him.
Right now.
The thought flashes through me, sudden and sharp, and for a split second, it feels like the easiest option. Just say it. End the tension. Let the truth sit between us instead of this fragile, cracking silence.
But I don’t know what that truth would do.
To him. To us. To this new empire that’s barely taken root around us. A baby might change everything.
“I had something to take care of,” I say carefully.
His grip tightens slightly.
“What kind of something?”
I can feel it slipping, the control I usually have in moments like this, the ability to pivot, to deflect. It’s not there the way it should be; my thoughts tangled around something too new, too important.
I don’t think I can lie well enough right now, and everything in me is screaming to run instead.
“Liev—”
“Alfredo’s lawyers.”
Vivienne’s voice cuts cleanly through the room.
I don’t even see her at first. Then she’s there, stepping in from the hallway like she’s been here the whole time, her expression calm, almost bored.
Liev’s attention shifts to her immediately, just enough to break the intensity of his focus on me.
“She met with them this morning,” Vivienne continues smoothly. “Finalizing the details of your partnership. You were busy, so we decided she should just go in your place. That way it doesn’t have to wait until after your trip to the Keys.”
My breath catches. It’s a good lie; one I should’ve thought of—though I’ll have to scramble once Liev does leave to make it real. Vivienne doesn’t even look at me, her half-smirk and raised eyebrow directed toward my husband instead.
“Do you have a problem with women in power, bratik?”
I recognize the teasing endearment she’s been using lately—little brother. It throws Liev off slightly, and his hand loosens, but he doesn’t let go. His hand slides up my arm and across my waist to hold me closer, but not tightly.
His blue-grey eyes drop to mine, considering. I hold his gaze steady.
“I don’t,” he admits gruffly. “Actually, that might be the best avenue considering your father’s outburst.”
My stomach twists at the memory of what Papa did at the airport, undermining Liev in front of Alfredo. I haven’t been around the old Italian much, but it’s clear he has a soft spot for me and a low level of respect for my father, so…
Somehow Vivienne has found not just an explanation for my absence this morning, but a political maneuver that will make our relationship with other cartels in Miami even easier.
My shoulders drop, and I almost, almost lean into him seeking comfort. I’m still reeling from hearing our baby’s heartbeat less than an hour ago.
“Figured you wouldn’t mind having backup. And you know I can read a contract.” I shrug, and that sells it.
“Next time,” he says quietly, his hand gently caressing my lower back, “you tell me.”
“I will.”
Vivienne moves further into the room like nothing happened, like she didn’t just pull me out of something I wasn’t prepared for.
I don’t look at her. Not yet. Because my heart is still racing, my thoughts still catching up, the weight of what almost happened settling in slowly.
I almost told him without meaning to.
That can’t happen again.
Not until I’m ready.
Not until I know exactly what this changes.
Liev’s phone vibrates against the table. He glances at the screen, something shifting in his expression before he looks back at me.
“Viktor,” he says, already moving.
Of course.
“I need to confirm security before I leave,” he adds, his tone softer now, directed at me. “I’ll be at the front.”
I nod. “Go.”
His gaze lingers for half a second, like he’s still weighing something, then he turns and walks out, the door closing behind him with a quiet click that seems to echo now that I’m alone with Vivienne.
I don’t move right away. My pulse is still uneven, thoughts still catching up to everything that just happened. The near slip, the lie I barely managed to hold together, the way Liev looked at me like he already knew something didn’t fit.
“You’re not as composed as you usually are.”
Vivienne’s voice is light, almost conversational, but it cuts straight through the quiet.
I turn my head slowly.
She’s leaning against the counter now, one ankle crossed over the other, watching me with an expression that’s far too observant to be casual. There’s no pretense in it. No attempt to soften what she sees.
I exhale and move further into the room, setting my bag down carefully, like I might have to pull a weapon from it any second. If Vivienne lied for me, it means she knows something. “You didn’t have to do that,” I say.
“Save you?” she asks.
“Yes.”
She shrugs. “I wanted to.”
I turn to face her fully. “Why?”
Vivienne studies me for a moment, then pushes off the counter and takes a few slow steps closer. “He asked me to follow you.”
The words are like a slap, especially after the past week. It’s felt like Liev and I have been finding common ground, finally settling into this strange marriage.
I don’t wake up anymore when he reaches for me in his sleep, and he doesn’t move away when I brush against him throughout the day.
“What?”
“He doesn’t like gaps,” she continues, unbothered. “In information. In behavior. In anything that doesn’t make sense to him. You of all people should understand that.”
“He had you follow me,” I repeat, the anger rising fast and sharp now.
“Yes.”
I let out a short, incredulous laugh. “That’s—” I cut myself off, shaking my head. “That’s not trust.”
“No,” Vivienne agrees easily. “It’s not.”
“He thinks I’m lying to him,” I say.
Her brow lifts slightly. “He knows you’re lying to him. Because you are, aren’t you, Ryder?”
I look away, my jaw tightening as that settles in, uncomfortable and undeniable. I am lying. Not just about today, not just about where I was, but about something far bigger than that.
The silence stretches between us, heavier now, edged with something closer to a stand-off than conversation.
I break it first.
“Then why didn’t you tell him?” I ask, turning back to her. “You knew where I was. You could’ve said it.”
Vivienne shrugs again, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Because it’s not my place.”
“To lie for me?”
“To expose you,” she corrects. “To tell him about your little secret.” Her eyes drop quickly to my belly. Instinctively, annoyance flickers across her face, at herself, I’m assuming. “You get to decide when you tell him,” she continues. “Not me.”
“You know then,” I say slowly. It’s not a question.
Her expression softens, just barely. “Of course I know. You’re not as subtle as you think you are. Not today. That doctor at the clinic—Garozzo, right? The one they referred you to? She’s an OBGYN.”
My stomach twists with guilt and fear. I press my lips together, glancing down for a second before forcing myself to meet her eyes again. So much for HIPAA.
“I just found out,” I say, which isn’t really true. Vivienne seems to know that, because she only hums in response.
My hand drifts toward my stomach before I can stop it.
Vivienne’s gaze flicks down, then back up. “You decided to keep it,” she says quietly.
I don’t answer. I don’t have to.
“You must be thinking about running.”
I look at her sharply. “No, I’m not.” Another lie. I’m really on a roll today.
She doesn’t react to the denial. “You are,” she repeats, just as calmly. “Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But it’s there; you’re thinking about it.”
Something in my chest tightens again, this time more defensive. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” she says simply. “Because I’ve felt it. A long time ago I thought about running away from all this—from family and what a future here would look like.”
That stops me.
I study her, trying to figure out how the woman standing in front of me ever considered running from her life. She fits into it like a glove; it’s second nature to her.
“You stayed,” I say.
“I did.”
“Why?”
Her lips curve faintly, but there’s no humor in it. “Because I realized running doesn’t actually make you free. It just changes what you’re running from.”
I look away again, my thoughts spiraling in directions I’m not ready to follow.
“I’m not—” I start, then stop, exhaling slowly. “This isn’t about that.”
“It’s always about that,” she replies quietly. “Even if there’s something else complicating things now. It can be hard to be a daughter in our world. And it’s natural to want to leave it behind. Even as you commit to the cause.”
I wrap my arms loosely around myself, more out of instinct than anything else, my mind racing ahead to things I haven’t figured out yet. What this means. What it changes. Whether there’s even a version of this where I stay and don’t lose something in the process.
Vivienne watches me for a moment longer, then adds, almost as an afterthought, “You won’t show for a while.”
I glance at her, confused.
“The pregnancy,” she clarifies. “You’re in good shape. It’ll take longer. You have time.”
Time.
The word echoes in my head, both a relief and a threat.
Time to decide, time to tell him.
Time to figure out whether staying is something I can actually choose or if I’m better off disappearing. I know the kind of people who could get me and this baby on a boat with papers that look real.
I exhale slowly, nodding once, even though I’m not sure what I’m agreeing to.
Outside, I can hear the faint murmur of voices near the front of the property; Liev and Viktor still going over security like nothing in the world has shifted.
But everything has.