I dragged myself up using the sink, splashed cold water on my face, and looked up to see that paper-white woman in the mirror.
That's when I saw Natasha in the reflection, standing in the bathroom doorway.
She'd followed me in at some point. She held a glass of warm water, her face professionally calm.
"Drink some water, Ms. Cole." She stepped forward, offering the glass.
"Thanks." I took it, rinsed my mouth, trying to hide how wrecked I looked. "I probably... didn't sleep well last night. Or maybe last night's dinner was off. My stomach's protesting."
Natasha didn't take the bait. Those gray-blue eyes studied me with perfect calm. "Ms. Cole, I used to work for several wives in Moscow. I've seen your symptoms many times before."
My fingers clenched. The glass almost slipped from my grip.
"I told you, I just didn't sleep well." I turned away, voice hard. "You can go now."
Natasha didn't say another word. Didn't even look curious. She just bowed her head slightly. "Of course. I'll have the kitchen prepare something lighter for you."
After she left, I stared at the edge of the sink, knuckles white from gripping it.
No. Not possible.
I closed my eyes, frantically calculating dates. So much had happened lately—deadlines, assassination attempts, bugs... My period was late, sure, but I'd assumed that was from stress and anxiety.
And we'd been reckless every single time. Especially at that underground fight. On that rusted locker. He hadn't used protection at all.
God.
No.
Please don't let it be what I'm thinking.
That afternoon, I couldn't take the suffocating atmosphere anymore. I had to get out, breathe. The air in this room was going to drive me insane.
I changed into casual clothes and headed downstairs.
At the first-floor landing, I ran into Sasha on his way out. He wore his signature black suit, the scrape on his brow now scabbed over. He looked exhausted, like he'd been pulling double shifts, but when he saw me, he stopped immediately,alert.
"Ms. Cole." He nodded slightly.
I stood on the steps, fingers digging into the wooden banister, trying to sound casual. "Things still not settled out there?"
Sasha was silent for a beat. Those all-seeing eyes swept across my face before he answered in that flat tone. "There's a lot going on. The Marchetti family's counterattack has been more vicious than expected. Pakhan's been extremely busy... He hasn't slept in days."
My heart clenched involuntarily.
I couldn't help picturing him—was he sitting in that study all night again? Was he forgetting to eat?
"Got it." My response came out cold. I shoved down that damn, ill-timed ache in my chest.
The mood for a walk was gone. I turned and went back upstairs.
Back in my room, I threw myself onto the plush bed.
Wake up, Vivienne! You're worried about that cold bastard? Does anyone worry about you, practically a prisoner here?
Maybe he's already forgotten you completely, drowning in his gang war.
I exhaled deeply and buried my face in the pillow.
