Chapter 9 Naomi #2
Her words hit somewhere deep, settling into a place I didn't know was empty until she filled it. For all the uncertainty and all the fear about bringing a child into Daniil's dangerous world, Charlotte's simple confidence in me makes a light brighten in my chest.
We talked for nearly an hour after that, the conversation gradually easing into more familiar territory.
At first, it's practical things. Charlotte making sure I have everything I need, asking if I'm eating properly, if I've seen a doctor yet, and if I need her to send anything from our apartment.
I tell her I'm fine on all counts, that Daniil has made sure I want for nothing.
She asks about my exhibit at the museum.
I tell her I've already been in touch with my superiors, carefully crafting an explanation for my absence.
I kept it vague, of course, but let them know there had been a personal emergency that required me to work remotely for a while.
They've been surprisingly understanding, even encouraging me to send notes on the contact I've had with donors and any future exhibits I want to work on.
“The museum is still a part of me no matter where I am,” I tell Charlotte, and I realize as I speak the words how true they are. Just because my life has taken this sharp left turn into Daniil's world doesn't mean I have to abandon everything I've worked for.
She relaxes a little at that, like she's relieved I'm not throwing away the part of myself she's always been most proud of. “Good,” she responds with genuine warmth. “Because you've worked too hard to let it all vanish just because your love life turned into a Bratva soap opera.”
I laugh, the sound loosening some of the tension that's been living in my chest for days.
“And don't worry about me,” she adds, her tone shifting into mock seriousness that I recognize as her way of lightening the mood.
“I'll survive without you as a roommate. In fact…” I can practically hear the smirk in her voice.
“I might enjoy living alone for a while.
No more fighting over the last cup of coffee, no more mystery leftovers in the fridge that you swear aren't yours but definitely are.”
I grin, picturing her dramatic eye roll. “You're going to miss me.”
“Of course I'll miss you,” she responds, softer now, the teasing edge giving way to genuine affection. “But I want you where you're happiest. And if that's with him, then… okay. I'll learn to live with it.”
The conversation drifts into lighter territory after that, like she's trying to throw me a lifeline back to normalcy.
We trade updates about old classmates, laugh over a few shared memories from our college days, and gossip about the latest drama in her event planning business.
For a while, it almost feels like nothing has changed, and I'm still the same girl who worried about deadlines, grocery bills, and whether my boss liked my latest presentation.
When we finally hang up, the quiet of the room feels different.
Not empty or lonely, but settled. Peaceful, even.
Talking to Charlotte didn't erase the danger that still lingers at the edges of everything, the knowledge that Viktor is still out there somewhere, and Daniil's world will always carry risks I'm only beginning to understand.
But it reminded me that there's more to my life than fear.
There's love. The consuming passion I feel for Daniil and the steady, enduring friendship with Charlotte that has anchored me for years.
There's a future ahead of us, uncertain but bright with possibility.
I press my hand to my stomach again, my thumb tracing small circles over the place where our child grows.
“We've got this,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else, but meaning it for all three of us—me, Daniil, and the tiny life we created together.
And for the first time since Viktor took me, since my world turned upside down and inside out, I believe it completely.
The low sound of footsteps pulls my gaze toward the doorway. Daniil fills the frame, all sharp lines and quiet authority, his dark suit immaculate. His eyes find mine instantly, scanning my face like he's reading every thought I haven't spoken aloud.
“You were on the phone,” he observes. It isn't a question.
“With Charlotte.” I push a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I told her some of it.”
His brow lifts slightly. “Some?”
“I didn't tell her everything,” I reassure him quickly. “She knows Viktor took me, and that you got me back. And…that you know about the baby.”
His posture changes, subtle but there, a tension I hadn’t noticed before easing from his shoulders. There's a brief moment where emotion moves across his face, too quick for me to interpret fully before it's locked away again behind his usual mask of control.
“And?” he prompts.
“She's worried,” I admit, meeting his gaze steadily. “But she wants me to be happy. And I am.”
He crosses the room slowly, his presence filling the space between us. “Good. Because you're not leaving this house without me knowing exactly where you are.”
There's no threat in his tone, no anger or possessiveness that feels controlling. Only certainty. A statement of fact delivered with the calm confidence of a man who has never had his will challenged and doesn't expect to start now.
“I wasn't planning to,” I respond, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze directly.
His eyes drop briefly to my stomach, then back to mine, and I see his face soften for just an instant. “Then we understand each other.”
I nod, the faintest smile tugging at my lips. “We do.”
His hand lifts, his fingers brushing lightly over my cheek in a gesture so at odds with the man everyone else sees that it steals my breath completely.
“Get some rest,” he murmurs, his voice softer than I've heard it all day. “Tomorrow, we talk about what comes next.”