Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
I’m not sure why I’m hiding this from him. Maybe it’s because I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he got me pregnant—even though he seems to have changed his mind about wanting it, given his religious use of condoms in recent days. Or maybe I’m still in denial, still hoping that I’ve simply caught the flu, and telling him about it means finding out for sure. Given his former plans for me, he has to have stashed a pack of pregnancy tests somewhere on the yacht, and I don’t want to see those pink lines. Right now, I still have hope. I can still pretend that this sickness is something else, something infinitely less life-changing. Just in case, though, I haven’t taken any of the migraine pills, nor have I had so much as a sip of alcohol. It’s irrational, but even though I don’t want this baby, I couldn’t live with myself if I caused him or her any harm. I even wonder if I should start taking some vitamins. Pregnant women need those, don’t they? My diet has always been pretty healthy, with plenty of fruits, vegetables, and whole grains, but with the nausea tormenting me all day, my appetite has been really off, and it’s all I can do to choke down enough food at mealtimes so Alexei won’t notice. I could very well be developing a deficiency of some kind, and if there’s a baby…
Dammit. I wish I hadn’t thought of that. I set my laptop onto the other lounge chair and lay my hand on my stomach—which feels flatter than usual, almost concave. Have I lost some weight? That can’t be good for the baby. Maybe I should tell Alexei, so he gets me those vitamins. But if I do—
“How’s the game coming along?”
I jump at the sound of Ruslan’s voice and turn my head to peer into the bright sun silhouetting his tall, broad-shouldered figure. I haven’t seen Alexei’s brother much in the past few days. He hasn’t been joining us for meals, and I’ve been working on my game in the cabin, where I can be close to the bathroom in case I need to throw up. However, the weather is cooler this morning, and I was hoping the fresh air would quell the nausea, so I decided to code under the overhang while Alexei enjoys a morning swim. He invited me to swim with him, but I declined, not wanting to chance a dizzy spell in the water. Besides, the less time Alexei and I spend together outside of the bedroom, the better.
Without constant reminders of my husband’s villainy, it’s all too easy to fall under his spell, to start believing in his vision of our future instead of what I know is the far more likely outcome for us: a terrible marriage like that of my parents, where initial obsession masquerading as love swiftly devolves into something far darker and deadlier.
Not that Alexei has said he loves me.
Probably because he doesn’t.
“I’m making good progress,” I answer, reaching over to pick up my computer as Ruslan steps under the overhang, dressed in nothing but a pair of swimming shorts and mirrored aviators. “I have nothing else to do, so that helps.”
Ruslan sprawls on the lounger where the laptop was sitting and laces his fingers behind his head. A mocking half-smile is on his lips when he turns his face toward me. “Why not spend some time with your new husband? It’s your honeymoon, after all.”
“Is it now?” My tone is sugary sweet. “How kind of you to enlighten me.”
Ruslan’s smile widens to a humorless grin. “Still hate him, huh? I told him this was a bad idea.”
“The attack on Nikolai’s compound or forcing me into marriage?”
Ruslan’s grin fades. Sighing, he turns his head to look straight ahead, and I open my computer. I’m about to dive back into my game when he speaks again. “Did Lyosha ever tell you about our childhood? Those first few years after our mother’s death?”
My hands freeze on the keyboard. I shouldn’t bite, but I can’t help it. The bait is too juicy. “Afraid not,” I say, matching his conversational tone.
Ruslan turns toward me again, and I catch my distorted reflection in his mirrored shades. “You don’t know the man you married at all, do you?”
“The man I was forced to marry, you mean.”
Ruslan’s expression doesn’t change. “You should get to know him. However it all started for you two, you’re going to spend a lifetime together.”
I look away. I don’t want to think about that, about the years and the decades ahead of us. About the children who will tie us together, binding me to Alexei until I’m nothing more than an extension of him.
About the tiny clump of cells that may already be growing inside me, sealing my fate.