43. Marla
MARLA
I wake up Thursday morning feeling like I've been hit by a truck. My stomach churns violently before I even open my eyes, and I barely make it to the bathroom before I'm sick. The nausea hits in waves, leaving me shaking and sweating as I kneel on the cold tile floor.
This is real. The pregnancy is real. And I still haven't told any of them.
I rinse my mouth and splash cold water on my face, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
My skin looks pale, my eyes shadowed from lack of sleep.
The mother-in-law building is quiet around me, everyone else still asleep.
Sunlight filters through the bathroom window, illuminating dust particles floating in the air.
I pull on a pair of soft gray tights and a long sweater, not much in the mood to dress up. My hair is a mess of red waves that I don't bother trying to tame, and I pull it back into a ponytail. I just feel too much like shit to give a shit how I look. If someone doesn't like it, well, too damn bad.
By the time I make it to the kitchen, Sharon is already awake, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. She takes one look at me and immediately stands.
"Morning sickness?" she asks quietly.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak yet. She pours me a glass of water and slides it across the counter. I drink it slowly, grateful for the coolness against my throat.
The sound of a car engine outside makes us both stiffen. It's too early for deliveries. Sharon moves to the window and peers through the curtains.
"Expensive car," she says. "Black Mercedes. Someone's getting out."
My stomach drops for an entirely different reason now. "Who is it?"
"A beautiful woman. She's tall with dark hair, wearing expensive designer clothes. She looks entirely too well put together this early in the morning. She looks pissed, too."
Before I can respond, there's a sharp knock on the front door. Not the polite knock of someone asking permission. The demanding knock of someone who expects the door to open immediately.
I glance at Sharon, who shrugs nervously. We both move toward the door together. When I open it, I find myself face to face with one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen.
She's tall, probably five-nine, with long dark hair that falls in perfect waves past her shoulders.
Her eyes are the same striking green as Nick's, and her features are sharp and elegant.
She's wearing a cream-colored cashmere coat over black pants and heels that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.
Everything about her screams wealth, power, and confidence.
"You must be Marla," she says, her voice smooth. Her gaze sweeps over me, taking in my messy hair, oversized shirt, and bare feet. "I'm Arina. Nick's sister."
My heart sinks. Of course she is. The resemblance is obvious now that I'm looking for it. But, wait a minute. How does she know my name? Nick said she'd been gossiping about me, but didn't know who I was yet. Damn, she must have figured it out.
"He's not here," I say carefully.
"I know where my brother is." Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "I'm here because he's been unreachable for days, and I want to know why."
She steps past me into the house without waiting for an invitation. Sharon and I exchange a look before following her inside. Arina moves through the living room like she owns it, her sharp gaze taking in every detail.
"Interesting," Arina murmurs. She turns to face us, her expression calculating. "So you're the reason my brother has been distracted."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I say.
"Of course you don't." Her tone is patronizing. "Tell me, how long have you been staying here?"
Before I can answer, Ekaterina emerges from the hallway wearing a simple blue dress and slippers. She takes one look at Arina and her expression hardens.
"Arina Vasiliev," Ekaterina says coolly. "What brings you here?"
"Ekaterina Stepanov." Arina's smile is sharp. "I could ask you the same question. This is Russ's property, isn't it? Why are you here instead of your own home?"
"I'm visiting my son."
"How convenient." Arina's gaze shifts between Ekaterina, Sharon, and me. "And who exactly is this girl that has three pakhans so distracted they're ignoring business?"
The front door opens before anyone can respond. Alex walks in looking exhausted, his dark hair disheveled and his jaw shadowed with stubble. Arina's attention immediately locks onto him. Her entire demeanor shifts, becoming warmer and more flirtatious.
"Alex," she purrs, moving toward him. "Where have you been hiding all week?"
"Working," Alex says flatly. His gaze moves past her to me, and his expression softens slightly. "Morning."
"All night?" Arina asks, stepping closer to him. She reaches out and smooths her hand over his arm. "You look exhausted. You should take better care of yourself."
I feel a sharp stab of irritation watching her touch him. It's irrational and stupid, but I can't help it. Alex handles it smoothly, stepping back just enough to break contact without being obvious about it.
"I'm fine," he says.
Russ appears in the doorway behind Alex, his blond hair still damp from a shower. He's wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt, looking far more relaxed than Alex. His gaze immediately finds mine, and I see the corner of his mouth twitch when he notices my expression.
He finds my jealousy entertaining. Of course he does.
"Arina," Russ says, his tone neutral. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Clearly." Her smile is sharp. "Nobody seems to expect me anywhere lately."
The tension in the room is thick enough to cut. Sharon moves closer to me, her shoulder brushing mine in silent support. Ekaterina watches Arina with the wariness of someone watching a snake slither in the grass.
My phone rings suddenly, the sound cutting through the silence like a knife. Everyone turns to look at me. I pull it from my pocket and glance at the screen. Unknown number.
Almost nobody has this number besides Sharon. My stomach twists with unease.
"Answer it," Alex says quietly.
I swipe to accept the call and lift the phone to my ear. "Hello?"
"Marla." The voice on the other end is disturbingly casual and amused. "It's been a while."
My blood turns to ice. I know that voice. I'd know it anywhere.
"Zach."
The entire room goes deadly silent. Russ's expression shifts from amused to murderous in seconds. Alex moves closer, his body tense and ready. Even Arina loses some of her calculated amusement.
"I've been looking for you for a long time," Zach continues, his tone conversational. "You're very good at hiding. But disappearing into the woods with dangerous company only made me more curious."
"Leave me alone," I say, my voice shaking.
"I don't think I will." He sounds entertained. "You see, powerful men can't protect you forever. Eventually, they'll get distracted. And when they do, I'll be waiting."
The line goes dead. I lower the phone slowly, my hand trembling. Nick appears in the doorway, his expression dark and controlled. He must have heard from outside.
"Give me the phone," he says.
I hand it over without argument. He immediately starts working on it, his fingers moving quickly across the screen. Russ looks close to putting his fist through the wall. Alex's jaw is tight, his hands clenched at his sides.
Even Arina is quiet now, watching everything with sharp, calculating eyes.
"I'll trace the number," Nick says. "But he's probably using a burner."
"Doesn't matter," Russ growls. "We know who it is. We know what he wants."
"And we know he's escalating," Alex adds quietly.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of tense conversations and security updates. Arina eventually leaves, but not before making it clear she expects answers soon. The men spend hours on their phones, coordinating with their organizations.
By the time night falls, I'm exhausted. Sharon and I retreat to the kitchen long after everyone else has gone to bed. The house is quiet around us, the only sound the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the building settling.
"You okay?" Sharon asks quietly.
I shake my head. "No. I'm not okay. Zach called me. He knows where I am. And I'm pregnant, and I have no idea how to handle any of this."
The words tumble out before I can stop them. The fear from the phone call finally cracks something inside me, and suddenly I can't hold it in anymore.
Sharon reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. "We'll figure it out," she says. "One thing at a time."
"I don't even know which one of them is the father," I whisper.
"I know." Her voice is gentle. "But you're going to have to tell them eventually."
A noise behind us has me turning toward the doorway. Ekaterina is standing there in her nightgown and robe, her dark eyes fixed on me. There's no doubt in my mind that she just heard me say I'm pregnant and don't know who the father is.