Chapter 9
Sera
I wake to the steady beep of the heart monitor in the cold clinic.
For a moment, I panic, as my mind takes in my surroundings—medical equipment, antiseptic smell, white walls—then, I remember everything.
The alley. The blood.
Adrian.
Dr. Reeves' voice, clinical and calm: You're pregnant.
My hand flies to my stomach. It's still flat, obviously, since I'm only ten weeks.
Ten weeks pregnant. I can barely believe it, and yet, it makes sense. I'd chalked up all my symptoms to stress, but now, I know. I'd slept with a random man, unprotected, and now, that one moment of irresponsibility has changed my entire life.
"Miss Romano?" I jump slightly at the sight of Dr. Reeves in the doorway.
"Doctor." I pull the sheets tighter around my body. The action makes me feel a little more secure, which is absolutely insane considering that I watched the man who brought me here murder someone.
"I am glad to see you awake," he says, coming closer. He's hesitant, like I'm going to flee at any moment. And as much as I'd like to, I have nowhere to go. "I need to examine you."
"Is the baby alright?" The weight settles on my chest before he can answer. I've just learned that I'm pregnant, and I've barely had time to process it, but I know that I want this child.
"The baby is fine. You suffered a subchorionic hemorrhage—bleeding between the uterine wall and the placenta. It can happen in early pregnancy, especially after trauma. You need rest and monitoring." He pauses. "I'd like to have you remain here—"
"Then I'll stay," I say quickly. "I'll do whatever is necessary."
The doctor stares grimly at me. "Mr. Nero would be more comfortable if you were transferred to his home."
"Mr. Nero?"
He nods and looks at me with a slight hint of judgment in his eyes. My face turns red, and I know immediately who he is talking about. Adrian.
Adrian Nero.
My brain fires up as the name clicks into place.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I'd slept with and gotten pregnant by Adrian Nero. The heir to one of the oldest New York families. They were in the news constantly for business acquisitions and were well-known art collectors.
It explains why Adrian was at the gala that night.
What it doesn't explain is what I saw in the alley. Because that wasn't a businessman—that was something else entirely.
I need to leave.
The thought comes sharp and clear through the fog. I need to get out of here. Find Gabe, figure out what the hell he'd gotten us both into, and protect my child.
"Miss?" The doctor's voice is soft. "Your heart rate is spiking. I need you to calm down."
Except I can't calm down. I'm pregnant, and the father of my child murdered someone.
"I need to get out of here." The words come out choked as I struggle to stop hyperventilating.
I push myself up slowly. Everything hurts. My ribs scream. My face throbs where I was hit. There's an IV in my arm, and I wince as it pulls slightly.
My clothes are folded on a chair in the corner. Still covered in blood. I stare at them for a long moment, bile rising in my throat.
"I'm sorry, but I can't allow you to leave."
My eyes widen. "What do you mean?"
The doctor presses his hand to the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. "Mr. Nero…"
As though summoned by his name, Adrian steps through the door. He doesn't knock, doesn't announce himself, doesn't ask—he simply comes inside.
He's changed. Clean suit, no blood. His dark hair is slightly damp like he recently showered. He looks exactly like he did that night at the gala, polished and controlled and dangerously beautiful.
"Going somewhere?" His voice is casual. Like we're having a normal conversation.
Like he didn't murder someone a few hours ago. He's clearly insane, and I know I need to get out.
"I need to leave." My voice comes out shakier than I want. "My brother—"
"Your brother is safe."
I pause. "How do you know that?" Especially since I don't know where he is. Gabe was clearly behind whatever went down in the alley, and I needed to find him before he ended up dead.
He doesn't answer. Just studies me with those silver eyes that see too much. "Sit down, Seraphina. We need to talk."
"I don't want to talk. I want to leave."
"That's not an option."
The words are matter of fact.
Final.
Fear spikes through me. "Are you kidnapping me?"
"I just saved your life. The least you can do is have a conversation." He takes a seat in the only chair in the room. "Sit. Please."
It's not really a request, but I appreciate that he frames it as one. And I do owe him an explanation.
After all, I'm carrying his child.
I cringe, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, wincing as I do so.
Adrian's eyes watch me, and I know they don't miss how I cringe.
"Let's start simple," he says.
I laugh sardonically. "Nothing about this is simple."
"Tell me about your brother."
"That's what you want to discuss?" Incredulity sharpens my voice. "Seriously?"
His eyes glance to my stomach. "We will get to the other things. Right now, I need to know about Gabriel."
I don't miss how he says my brother's name. Either Adrian knows him, or he ran a background check on me. Neither option is particularly appealing.
"Why do you want to discuss Gabe?"
"Because Dimitri Morozov was trying to kill you, and I'd like to know why."
The name means nothing to me. "I don't know who that is."
"The man in the alley. The one I killed." He says it so casually. "He works for the Morozov family. They control most of Brooklyn. Drugs, protection rackets, gambling."
Gambling.
Oh God.
Gabe, what the hell did you get us involved in?
"Your brother owes them money," Adrian continues, reading my expression. "Fifty thousand dollars, from what I understand. And when gamblers can't pay, the Morozovs go after their families."
Gabe had told me as much.
"I don't have that kind of money, so I don't know what they're hoping for."
"They'll find a way to get their money back. Either by making an example of you—sending a message to other debtors—or by finding more creative ways to monetize you."
The way he says "monetize" makes my skin crawl. "What does that mean?"
"You're young. Attractive. Alone." His eyes are cold. "The Morozovs run clubs in Brooklyn. They're always looking for new talent. Whether that talent is willing or not."
My stomach drops. The implication is clear, and I feel like my head is going to explode.
"Tell me about your brother," he says.
"How do you even know his name?" Accusation edges my voice. "Did you look into me?"
"I make it my business to know things when they concern me." His expression is unreadable. "Now. Tell me about Gabriel."
I want to refuse, but his words ring in my head. Whatever Gabe got us both involved with is life and death.
"He's my younger brother," I say quietly. "Twenty-four. He has a gambling problem. Has for years." My throat tightens. "I've tried to help him. Given him money. Made him promise to stop. But he always goes back."
"Fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money but not..." he trails off with a shrug. "Let's just say I've seen worse."
"It's a lot of money for us." My hands shake slightly. "And I wouldn't be surprised if it's more."
"What did he tell you about the Morozovs?"
I shrug. "He didn't go into specifics. He told me he owed dangerous people money.
I figured he was talking about people who owned a casino or something.
Not the mob!" I look up at Adrian. "He came to me a few weeks ago.
Begging for help. I said no. I told him I couldn't keep bailing him out.
" I swallow thickly. "And like I said, I don't have that kind of money. "
"He disappeared when you told him that?"
"Yes." The guilt eats at me. "A man came into the shop." I pause. "A Russian man. He said his name was Artem."
Adrian's eyes narrow. "Not familiar, but that doesn't mean he's not one of Alexei's men. What did he want?"
"He was looking at books. Asked about first editions. Then he left."
"He was casing the place. Figuring out where you'd be vulnerable." Adrian's jaw tightens. "Did you tell Gabriel about him?"
"Yes. That's the last time we spoke, and I only think he answered because I kept calling."
Adrian leans back, his expression thoughtful. "When did you last see him in person?"
"The day he asked for money. Ten weeks ago, right before..." I trail off, not wanting to say right before I slept with you.
"Right before the gala," Adrian finishes. "Interesting timing."
There's something in his tone that makes my blood run cold. "What do you mean?"
"You slept with me the night of the gala. Got pregnant. Disappeared. And your brother owes money to my rivals." He tilts his head. "Doesn't that strike you as convenient?"
"Rivals?"
"Yes, my rivals. You're a smart girl." His eyes don't leave mine. "I'm sure you've figured out that I'm involved in more than just art."
"You think I set you up?" My voice rises an octave. "Seriously? You're the one who begged to 'fuck me raw.'"
Adrian doesn't flinch at my crude language. "I think your brother set us both up."
I laugh, clutching my ribs in pain. "I love my brother, but that requires a level of skill he doesn't possess. He didn't know about the gala, and I didn't even know who you were until about ten minutes ago. I simply thought you were some rich guy at the bar."
I close my eyes. "I had one night of irresponsibility. I didn't expect it to change my life like this." A tear slips out, and it takes everything in me not to completely break down. I sniffle slightly, looking up at Adrian.
He reaches out to me, and his warm hand cups my cheek. "I need to ask you something, Seraphina." His voice is rough. "And I need you to answer me truthfully."
His thumb strokes my cheek, and I nod.
"Would your brother sell you to save himself?"
I hesitate.
Adrian's expression darkens. "I think he led Dimitri right to you."
"You don't know that."
"Don't I?" He stands, pacing now.
"Why would Gabe want me attacked? I can't pay off his debts if I'm dead."