Page 6 of Crystal Veil

“You're pale,” he mentions, more softly now. His voice holds concern but also suspicion. “You flinched when I brought you coffee yesterday. You've been avoiding me, Elena.”

The accusation lingers between us like a challenge. I stiffen, my grip tightening on the robe. “I'm not avoiding you.”

“You are.” His tone hardens slightly, taking on the edge that makes grown men tremble. “You walk the beach alone at night. You keep your phone close but never call anyone. And you won't look me in the eye for longer than a few seconds.”

Each observation cuts straight through me because they're all true. I have been walking the beach at night, unable to sleep, pacing the shoreline like a restless ghost searching for peace. My phone stays charged, but who would I even call? What would I say? That I’m pregnant with a Russian mafia boss’s child and hiding out in his oceanfront fortress? Amelia already knows.

I blink against the wind, the salt air stinging my eyes. “You brought me here for protection, didn't you? I'm safe. That should be enough.”

“It's not.” His voice drops lower now, threaded with tension that quickens my pulse. “Safety without trust is just another form of prison. And I refuse to lock you away, Elena. But you have to talk to me.”

I feel his hand graze mine. Gentle and testing, like if he touches me too firmly, I'll shatter into pieces the wind will carry away. His fingers are warm against my cold skin, calloused from violence but tender at this moment.

The touch undoes something inside me. All the fear and uncertainty I've been carrying alone suddenly feels too heavy to bear. I turn to face him fully, my throat tightening with eachword before I speak them. My heart hammers against my ribs so hard I wonder if he can see it through the thin silk.

“I didn't want to tell you like this,” I whisper, my voice lost beneath the wind. “I wanted more time.”

He remains silent. Patient in the way predators are patient before they strike. But there's a hint of hope in his stillness. Or maybe it’s fear that mirrors my own.

My heart pounds so loudly I swear he can hear it. The words feel too big for my mouth, too dangerous to release into the world. But they've been building pressure inside me for days, and I can't hold them back anymore.

“I'm…I'm pregnant.”

A pause stretches between us. Then another. I watch the world fall away from his expression like someone pulling the earth out from under him. His face goes through a series of micro-expressions that shift from shock to disbelief and then to wonder. His hand drops from mine.

“Pregnant.” He repeats the word as if it doesn't make sense in his mouth, as if he's testing how it sounds.

“I didn't plan it,” I rush on, my voice unraveling like a thread pulled too tight. “I didn't know. And when I found out…everything happened so fast. The hospital, Bennato's men, the move here. I didn't know how to tell you.”

Neither of us speaks. The silence fills with the sound of waves crashing below and wind whistling through the glass barriers. A storm is building on the horizon, with dark clouds gathering like an ominous sign. His jaw works, the muscle twitching once before stilling. He doesn’t speak, and the silence feels like a doorslowly closing. It doesn’t slam. It just clicks shut, leaving me on the other side with nothing but the echo of what I wish he’d say.

“I thought maybe you'd be angry,” I whisper, the words tumbling out faster now. “That you'd think it was a mistake. Or worse, that you'd think I kept it from you on purpose.”

Renat turns away abruptly, walking a few steps toward the edge of the balcony. His hands press to the railing, his knuckles pale against the polished steel. The muscles in his back are tense beneath his shirt, shoulders rigid with whatever battle he's fighting internally. I brace myself for his rejection. For the anger and cold dismissal I've seen him use towards others.

But then he exhales slowly and deeply and turns back around.

“I'm not angry,” he declares, and his voice sounds nothing like I expected. It's hoarse and raw. Like he's holding something back that might break him if he lets it out.

I stare at him, searching his face for deception. “You're not?”

He crosses the distance between us in two strides, moving with the fluid grace that makes him so dangerous in combat. “Elena.” My name leaves his mouth like a kiss he’s been aching to give. Slow, tender, full of all the things he can’t say out loud. He touches my cheek, tentative at first, then cups it with his palm. His hand is warm and steady, anchoring me when I feel like I might float away. “You're carrying my child.”

A strange sound leaves his throat. Half wonder, half ache. His thumb traces my cheekbone with reverent care. “I never thought…” He trails off, eyes glinting in the sunlight that breaks through the clouds. “I never saw this future for myself. A family. A child. Not in this world.”

The admission surprises me. Renat doesn't share vulnerabilities easily. He has built his empire on appearing invincible and untouchable. But standing here with the wind whipping around us and the ocean stretching endlessly below, he looks human. Fragile, even.

“Neither did I,” I admit, my voice cracking under the weight of honesty. “But it's real.”

He brushes a thumb across my jaw, then lets it trail to my lips. The touch sends electricity through my entire body, awakening nerves I'd forgotten existed. “You should have told me sooner.”

“I was scared,” I whisper.

His gaze turns fierce and protective. The gentleness remains, but underneath, burns something primal and possessive. “You never have to be scared of me.”

My chest aches. The promise in his voice is absolute. But promises from men like Renat come with prices. “Even if this changes everything?”

“It does,” he agrees without hesitation. “But not in the way you think.”