20. Rose
Rose
"Well, everything looks good to me," Cillian remarks in his lilting Irish accent as he packs up his equipment and slips it back into the large leather bag he brought with him.
I straighten my dress, perched on the edge of the bed, and manage to give him a smile. I don’t want him to feel like I’m ungrateful for his efforts, though I can’t imagine he’s not being well-paid for them.
"Should anything change between now and my next visit, inform Ilya, and I’ll come back to check on you sooner," he continues. "But for the time being, it seems like you have nothing to worry about. Get plenty of rest, take plenty of fluids, and I’ll see you in two weeks."
"Thanks," I mutter, twisting my hands in my lap as I try to bring my mind back into the moment. Truth be told, as glad as I am that nothing is going on with the baby, there’s a part of me that can’t shake what happened with Sergei earlier today.
I just need to find the time to meet with Ilya without making it obvious that I have suspicions about Sergei—and I don’t know how I can slip out of here without attracting attention.
Cillian nods his farewell from the doorway, which is flanked by two guards, one of whom glances at me for a moment before he pulls the door shut.
I sigh, shoulders sagging, and stare down at a spot on the floor in front of me.
I should be relieved that everything is as it should be, but instead all I can think about is what might happen if something goes wrong. Just like Sergei warned me.
I go to the bathroom to splash some water on my face, staring at myself in the mirror as my mind spins.
I’ve been turning over what Sergei said to me, so many times now that his words seem to have lost all meaning.
Because what if he was trying to warn me, trying to give me a way out before I’m locked in to the point of no return?
He knows Ilya better than anyone, and he might be trying to give me a heads-up that things could go very wrong.
But the way he looked at me... that wasn’t the look of someone who wanted the best for me.
And given everything else I’ve noticed about him since I’ve been here, it’s hard to believe there’s not more to it.
If I’m going to be a parent, then I need to start trusting my instincts, and that begins right here, right now.
I head to the door, pushing it open as I plant my hands on my hips. I muster as much confidence as I can as I look between the two men standing outside. No doubt they have orders to keep me locked in here, but they have another thing coming.
"I need to speak to Ilya."
They exchange a glance, neither wanting to be the one who says no to me—and at the same time, neither wishing to be the guy who disturbs the boss.
"You need to rest," one of them tells me gruffly. "You heard what the doctor said."
"You were listening in on my private appointment?” I demand, narrowing my eyes at him pointedly. "What, I don’t get any privacy in this place?”
He grits his teeth, clearly irritated by my attitude.
"Ilya asked me to come to him with the news from the appointment as soon as it was done," I lie with as much certainty as I can. "I don’t want to keep him waiting. Do you?"
The other guard furrows his brow. I’m sure he is trying to calculate the chances of that being true.
"He said nothing to us about it,” the guard says.
"Well, he probably thought that you wouldn’t need to know," I reply, tossing my hair over one shoulder haughtily. "And he likely believed you wouldn’t have your damn ears pressed to the door to hear our private business."
That seems to get through to them. They clearly don’t want to bring his ire down on them if they can avoid it, and I doubt Ilya would take too kindly to the knowledge that they had overheard any part of my medical history.
"Fine," he grunts. "Come with me. I'll take you to his office."
"I’m perfectly capable of making it there by myself."
"With me," he insists again.
I’ve already pushed my luck further than I should have, so I shrug and gesture for him to lead the way. Finally, I break away from the room that I’ve been trapped in all day.
We walk in silence. I spot a few of Ilya’s other men looking in my direction as I pass, no doubt wondering what I’m doing out of my cell.
I ignore them. There is only one person in this entire place I trust, and that’s only because I’m carrying his child.
I know that Ilya will not let anything happen to me, if only because any danger will affect our child, too.
The guard pushes open the door, and I step inside, chewing my lip as I stand there waiting for Ilya to notice me. He rises to his feet as soon as he does, his brows digging together with obvious concern.
"Something wrong?" he demands. "The doctor—"
"Everything’s fine," I cut him off, casting a look in the direction of the guard, letting him know that he’s excused. The guard backs off, and I push the door shut behind me, leaning against it for a moment as I contemplate how to put my feelings into words.
"What is it?" Ilya asks, his eyes scanning mine.
I take a deep breath, now distinctly aware that I am about to share my doubts about his second-in-command. I don’t want him to turn on me in the process. He clearly has a lot of trust in Sergei. The question is whether that trust outweighs whatever he feels for me.
"I... I’m not sure," I admit as he moves around the table, pulling back the chair and gesturing for me to take a seat.
He presses his fingertips together, frowning. "Tell me," he insists.
"I’m worried I’m overthinking this—"
"Tell me," he says more firmly, leaving no room for argument.
I glance up at him again, gathering my courage. Okay, so, I was in the room next to mine earlier. I thought that we could use it as the nursery, right? I was moving some things around—"
"You shouldn’t be doing that, not in your condition,” he says gruffly.
"I know," I shoot back. "I just—just let me finish, okay?"
He nods at me to go on, his brow still furrowed.
"Sergei came by," I explain. "And he... he said some weird stuff to me. I’m not sure what he meant by it exactly."
He lifts his chin. "Said what, exactly?”
I flick my tongue over my bottom lip, considering my answer.
"He... he asked if I was going to stay," I say.
"And when I told him I was, and that I was turning that place into a nursery, he made this comment about how women in my condition need to be careful.
About what might happen to us if something goes wrong. "
Ilya’s face does not shift, and I wonder if I’ve overstepped the line. After all the trouble I’ve caused him, I shouldn’t expect him to be so open to what I have to say. I have fled from him, chewed him out, and brought him more trouble than he ever wanted.
“Did he explain himself?” Ilya asks.
I shake my head. "I asked him what he meant, but he just told me that I would need to be ready when the doctor came by, and that was it," I say. "I don’t know why he said all of that to me. Do you... did you tell him to?"
He shakes his head. "Has he spoken to you like that before? Given you reason to doubt him?"
I pause for a moment, considering. "I mean, he hasn’t said anything to me, exactly..."
"But there’s been something?”
"I guess you could say that."
"How?"
"How?” I echo.
I search my mind for all the pieces, trying to fit them together in a way that doesn’t make me sound like a paranoid freak.
Sergei looking at me, or not looking at me, hardly seems like enough of a reason to bring this to Ilya, and I’m sure he’ll be quick to tell me that if I come out with it.
But his gaze does not move from mine, and it’s clear he’s not going to back off until I explain.
"Uh, well, sometimes, when I’m walking around in here, I see him... watching me."
"Watching you?"
"Yeah. Not like the other guards, not like he’s just keeping an eye on me," I continue. Ilya’s tone is prying, curious, and I wonder if he has any suspicions of his own about Sergei. "Like he’s... like there’s something he doesn’t trust about me."
I shift in my seat again. I can still remember the way the hair on the back of my neck stood up when he was watching me the other day, and how he kept his gaze fixed on the floor while Ilya claimed me in front of all of his men.
I can’t see the connective tissue between all of it, but I’m not sure I need to.
I just need to tell Ilya in the hopes that he’ll help me protect myself from whatever might be percolating.
"And what else?"
"When we were..."
I hate having to bring this up, the night he took me in front of his men.
It feels like admitting I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what happened since it went down.
But I have to think of the baby. It’s not just my life that I have to think of now, but my little one’s, and I am not going to let some awkwardness get in the way of that.
"When we were together, in front of all of your men," I continue as confidently as I can, though I’m sure he sees right through me, "I noticed that Sergei was the only one who couldn’t look at me. I mean, don’t get me wrong—I found it odd that everyone else wouldn’t look away—but he..."
I shrug.
"It felt like there was something he didn’t want to see."
I eye Ilya as I wait for a response, trying to gauge if I’ve gone too far, if I have crossed the line in pointing the finger at someone he trusts.
But then, slowly, he nods. "I see."
His tone is measured, careful, giving nothing away. I tangle my fingers in my lap again, trying to dissipate some of the tension rushing through me. I don’t know what to make of that answer. Is it good? Bad? A warning? A promise?
"If anything else happens," he continues, "come to me. I’ll tell the guards to give you direct access to me no matter what. Anything at all, you bring it directly to me, you understand?”
I nod. I don’t know if I should be relieved or not.
I mean, sure, there is a part of me that’s glad he seems to be taking all of this seriously, but does he believe me?
Believe that one of his own men could pose such a threat?
If he does, he is containing it well, but then, that’s how I’ve always known him to be.
Aside from those brief flashes of emotion when we’re together, when his want gets the better of him, everything he’s feeling burns out of sight where I cannot make sense of it.
"I will," I whisper. "I..."
I trail off. I don’t know what I want to say to him, if anything. I half-expected him to brush me off and tell me I was crazy for leveling doubts at Sergei in the first place. But I’m glad he seems to be taking my concerns seriously.
I rise to my feet, figuring that I got what I wanted. The longer I stick around, the better the chances that something else will spill out. Something that he’ll be less willing to hear from me.
"Thanks," I blurt out. And with that, I turn and head back to my room, my head still swimming with everything that’s just happened. Just when I think I’ve managed to figure out what’s coming next, where I stand in all of this, the ground shifts and everything threatens to pile on top of me again.
I don’t know where this leaves me, but at least I have a direct line to his ear, a chance to bring any concerns directly to him.
When I reach my room once more, I feel the guards watching me, but I pay no attention to them.
A wave of tiredness crashes through me, and I pull the door shut behind me as I flop down on the bed, catching my breath.
I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy or the stress or some combination of the two that has me so exhausted, but right now there’s nothing I want to do more than sleep.
Even if it feels like it will be impossible to switch my brain off long enough for that to happen.