Page 84 of Warlord’s Empire

She stared down at her clasped hands. “Do you… I mean… as his friend, do you know why he’s acting this way? It’s like he’s turned into a different person since finding out about the baby.”

His gaze turned compassionate and she almost wished she could snatch the words back. She didn’t want anyone’s pity, but his words dispelled her worry on that account.

“I assume you mean that he’s avoiding you, refusing to talk about the pregnancy?”

She nodded, relieved the doctor was willing to have an honest conversation. It made her feel less lonely.

He settled back in his chair. “Radik has always been a bit of an enigma, especially emotionally. He doesn’t talk about his thoughts and feelings, never has. He’s a man of action, a person who’s used to making decisions, issuing orders, and having them followed immediately. No questions, no discussions.”

“He’s not like that with me,” Saskia murmured. “I mean, he’s bossy, autocratic and definitely tries to give me orders, but he listens when I tell him no. We talk about how we’re feeling and he lets me have input in his decisions. Or he did until he completely shut down three days ago.”

“I’ve seen how much he’s changed since meeting you,” Zander said. “He’s still the same, but he bends more than I’ve known him to do for anyone else, including his sister. It’s remarkable really, but I think the changes he’s made have also strengthened our friendship. He’s more emotionally available to those he cares about.”

“Do you think the changes he’s made are what’s bringing on his PTSD episodes?”

Zander frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She felt instantly terrible that she’d said anything. She’d assumed since Zander was Radik’s doctor that he would have shared his psychological diagnosis with the man. “Never mind,” she said quickly. “I shouldn’t be talking about this. Please forget I said anything.”

His frown softened and he said in a low voice, “Given the life Radik’s lived, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress syndrome. I won’t push you to tell me and I won’t ask him about it.”

“Thank you,” she said, relieved. Things with Radik were already stressed without her blabbing his secrets.

“I won’t discuss Radik, but I do want to talk about you.” He moved forward in his chair, leaning toward her and clasping his hands between his knees. “You must think about yourself and your baby first. I find Radik’s reaction to your pregnancy puzzling, given how protective he is of you. You’re in your first trimester when statistically, mothers are more likely to miscarry. I’m worried you may not find the support you need if he can’t pull his head out of his ass and step up. If you find yourself under too much pressure here, and you need help getting someplace safe, please call me.”

She wanted to tell him she could take care of herself. She wanted to defend Radik. Instead, she absorbed his words, the warning within them and concluded that he was right. Her concern had to be for the baby now. “Thank you. I will keep that in mind.”

“Do you think you’ll leave here?” he pushed, his gaze going past her as he spoke.

She shrugged. “It’s not what I want, but if he doesn’t come around and doesn’t want to raise this child with me, then I don’t see that I have a choice. I’ll go back to Prague to have the baby and raise it myself.”

“Leave.”

Saskia whirled in her chair, gasping when she caught sight of Radik who was towering above her.

His hostile gaze was on Zander. “Now.”

Saskia scrambled out of her chair, backing away from Radik and his anger. How much had he heard? Was he mad that she’d accidentally shared his PTSD diagnosis or was he upset that she was contemplating leaving?

The doctor stood as well. “Radik, we should talk–“

“Leave,” Radik snarled, cutting him off. “You’ve talked enough.”

Zander bowed his head and exited the room, stopping next to Radik to say, “Be careful,” before leaving.

Saskia suspected he was warning Radik not to stress her out due to her condition. She didn’t think he needed to worry. She was built like an ox, had been healthy pretty much from the day she was born. A little stress was unlikely to harm the baby and this conversation with Radik was long overdue.

They stared at each other, the room growing thick with tension. She broke the silence first. “You heard Zander suggest I consider leaving?”

“Yes. I heard.” His stance and his words held enough hostility to make the hairs on her arms stand on end. “You think I will allow you to leave?”

“I don’t want to go…” she started to say.

“Good,” he snapped. “Because you’re staying.”

She balled her fists in frustration. “This needs to be a discussion, Muhammed. I’m not one of your soldiers. I don’t take orders from you.” She took a breath, trying to calm herself before continuing, “We should talk about it. Maybe me going back to Prague for a while is the right thing to do here. At least until we’re on the same page.”

He stepped toward her, his imposing bulk filling the room. “Don’t even think about leaving. I will hunt you down and bring you back.”