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I cringe, even as I keep my face buried in my hands. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. Yakov could have sent me away, but he didn’t. He didn’t have to bring me back to his house and save my life, but he did. He did it all because he had to unless he wanted to end up as suspect number one in my murder.”
Mariya snorts. “My brother knows every cop, district attorney, and judge in this town. He isn’t worried about getting pinned with any crime. Least of all murder.”
“Least of all murder”? God, this family is scary.
“Plus,” she adds, “everything you said could also be used as proof that he’s obsessed with you. He didn’t want to tell you he wasn’t your blind date because he thought you were hot. He brought you back to the mansion because he wanted to. Ever thought of that?”
I shrug. “Yeah. But it just doesn’t make?—”
“It makes plenty of sense!” she shrieks. “Don’t let your asshole ex-boyfriend make you doubt yourself.”
“Okay, fine. Even if all of that was true and Yakov did care about me… he doesn’t anymore. You didn’t hear what he said. He’s so mad.”
“I think all of his anger will disappear the moment you tell him you’re pregnant.”
I sniffle. “I tried that already. He wasn’t in a listening mood.”
“Then call him.”
“He won’t answer.”
“Leave a message,” she says. “Text bomb him until he has no choice. I’ll AirDrop him a picture of your pregnancy tests!”
I lean my head against Mariya’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“You’re the only one right now. Which is why we’re going to fix this.” She grabs my hands and pulls me to my feet. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” I mumble, my socked feet shuffling across the carpet.
She smiles over her shoulder. “To make a pregnancy announcement.”
61
LUNA
I lie back against the headboard, the phone resting on my thigh as it rings. The constant ringing has been the soundtrack to my night. Again and again and again, I’ve called Yakov’s phone.
Nothing.
Now, I don’t even expect him to answer. Entering his number, letting it ring, and doing it all over again has become kind of therapeutic. It’s a better option than replaying everything Yakov said to me tonight on an endless loop.
I close my eyes and wait for his voicemail to pick up. For his deep voice to rumble through the line and shiver up my spine. This is Yakov Kulikov. Leave a message.
Riiing.
Riiing.
Riii—
“What the fuck do you want, Mariya?” Yakov says instead.
I sit up so fast the phone flies across the bed. I have to lunge for it. “Hello?”
There’s a pause. “You’re not Mariya.” The usual sharpness in his voice is gone. He sounds drunk.
“Yakov?”
“Luna.” My name is a slurred whisper. “How do you have Mariya’s phone?”
