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Fuck.
“Kiril, are you about to become a father? Is that girl pregnant with your child?” The snorting laughter that drifts through the phone makes me sick to my stomach.
“Alexander, this is your absolute last warning.”
“No, Kiril, let me warn you. I am going to get that girl back, and when I do, I am going to rip that child from her stomach and have it couriered back to you in a cardboard box.”
“I will fucking tear your limbs from your body and watch you scream and squirm in the dirt like that animal you are. I will pull your eyeballs from their sockets and shove them down that thick throat of yours so that you choke on your own body parts.”
“Come and fucking find me, Dubrov. Come and find me. I am fucking waiting for you.”
“Watch your back. I am coming.”
I hang up.
What the fuck have I done?
How did I let that slip? I have given my enemy the exact information that he should never have. I have put my unborn child and my little rabbit at more risk now than ever before.
Fuck.
I slam my fist into the table and the wood splinters down the middle.
I have no choice now; I have to call Fyodor. He needs to know what has happened, and we need to resolve this before I lose the most important things in my life.
Chapter 19 - Jennifer
Kiril arranged a private yoga instructor for me this morning and we did our session out in the garden. Of course, he insisted that the instructor be a woman, telling me that it would be safer for me. I suspect he had other reasons for not wanting me to spend an hour with another man. I laughed to myself about how absolutely non-negotiable that factor was.
I did really enjoy the session. It was great to be outside, moving, stretching, and having a chance to do something different for a change. My muscles are a little sore this afternoon. Kiril has been coming in to check on me every now and then to see if I am drinking enough water.
The thing is, even though he is still around and paying attention to me, he is slightly detached. I am actually getting angry about it. I am annoyed with the hot, cold, hot, cold attitude. At this point, I am very close to marching into his office and yelling at him.
Maybe I am overreacting, and my pregnancy hormones are tricking me into thinking things are happening when they are not. But I don’t think that is the case.
Three times today I have slammed my book down, so frustrated that I can’t even focus on the story I am reading, and stood up to go over to his office to have a word with him. And three times I sighed and picked up my book again to try and force myself to read and calm the hell down.
I have heard him on the phone with his brothers and I know he is planning something. I asked him about it over dinner the other night and he told me to leave it alone.
I don’t think he understands how much he is pushing me.
I give up and toss the book onto the library table. I am sitting under the massive oval window on a cozy leather sofa and the sun is splashing across my legs. It should be comforting and relaxing, but I am too agitated to notice the luxury of it.
I bite at my lip while I stare at the door leading into the passageway. Kiril walked past the door about fifteen minutes ago without even sticking his head in to say hello.
Maybe I just need to eat something. I have heard that when you are upset or angry you should eat something before you make any big decision.
I sigh and push myself to my feet. My belly is growing by the day and the little one is wreaking havoc on my body. Some people have an easy pregnancy; they glow. I am not glowing. I feel puffy and tired. Maybe I should not just blame my little marshmallow.
I run my hand protectively over my belly and smile. “I’m sorry I’m in such a bad mood, little one. I’m going to find us something to eat. That should help.”
“How is the marshmallow doing today? Did you enjoy your yoga this morning?”
Kiril’s voice seemingly comes out of nowhere and I jump in fright.
“Oh my gosh, don’t sneak up on me like that,” I snap, agitated all over again.
“Are you feeling a little tense? I didn’t exactly sneak. I just walked in.” He chuckles.
