Page 21 of Claimed By my Ex’s Uncle

Even if I can hear the blood rushing in my veins as I wait for him to reply.

"Perhaps I should go," Sergei offers, rising to his feet, but Ilya raises his hand, indicating that he should stay right where he is.

"No need," he replies, not taking his eyes off of me. "If she wants to be part of things, let her. You were saying, Sergei?”

Sergei looks over at me, clearly wishing that he didn’t have to have this conversation in front of me, but he’s not getting a choice. Ilya is pitting us against each other, practically daring me to argue with him again in front of one of his men. But if he thinks I will give up just like that, he’s got another thing coming.

"About the pregnancy," Ilya prompts Sergei, as if giving him the go-ahead to discuss the matter.

I toss my hair over one shoulder, crossing my arms over my chest, silently looking Sergei down to tell him that I’m more than willing to hear him out.

"You’ve been so set on the matter of succession," Sergei continues at last, glancing between the two of us warily, "that I thought it sensible to confirm the father of the child. Regardless of what Petar might have told you about his ability to bear children."

I tense. So, Sergei is casting doubt on me now? Talking like Ilya might have reason to second-guess my claims? I narrow my eyes and look at Ilya, who clasps his hands in front of him.

"I know that the child is mine," he replies calmly. "And I don’t need any test to confirm that. Petar is infertile, has been his whole life. And when it comes to matters of succession…"

He looks to me, eyes flicking down briefly towards my belly.

"I choose who takes this business after I’m gone."

Sergei hardly reacts. I eye him for a moment, not sure if I should entirely trust him, but I suppose I already overstepped in interrupting their meeting. Perhaps better for me to just keep my head down and avoid pissing him off any further. It’s starting to feel like I made a mistake I couldn’t walk back from.

"I have to take care of the security detail for the night," Sergei replies as he moves towards the door. "Thanks for your time, Ilya."

"Of course," Ilya replies, but I notice a slight coolness to his tone, and he watches Ilya carefully until he is gone. Then, and only then, does he turn his attention to me, his chin lifting slightly as he looks me up and down.

"What is it?”

I feel nerves flood through me. It’s the first time the two of us have been alone together since… well, since. I’d be lying if I said that our encounter in his office hadn’t been playing on my mind more than it should have been, but at the same time, I have to focus on my freedom. No matter what good reason I might have to stay, I have a life to get back to. A life that I couldn’t just turn my back on.

I push the door shut behind me, leaning against it—the very same spot where he brought me to orgasm just a week or so before. I’m sure he’s just as aware of the tension in the air between us, and he gestures for me to take a seat.

"Something to say?" he says.

"I already told you what I have to say," I retort. "I want out. I’m tired of being locked up here like some kind of criminal, and I want to⁠—"

"What you want," he replies, cutting me off calmly, "is not the same as what you need. And what you need right now is to stay where I can keep an eye on you. Somewhere Petar cannot reach you."

I throw my hands in the air, utterly baffled by his stubbornness.

"Don’t you realize how crazy that sounds?" I point out. "I mean—for God’s sake, he’s being held by the police! He’s not exactly a threat to me. And it’s hardly as if he even wanted me when we were together, so I doubt that he’s suddenly going to turn around and decide he wants me back.”

"You don’t know what he’s capable of," Ilya replies, not missing a beat. "Either way, you’re not going to be anywhere I can’t keep watch on you. You’re carrying my child. And I don’t think you’ve fully wrapped your head around just how vulnerable that makes you."

He rises to his feet, closing the distance between us, but this time, he does not reach to touch me. Thank God, because I don’t know if I’d be able to hold myself together if he did. Even being in his presence makes my mind run a little slower, and I know I can’t give in. Can’t let his closeness distract me from what I came here to do.

"Well, I agreed to stay here before," I tell him. "As much as I could agree, I mean, given that you bought my job right from underneath me. But that doesn’t mean that I was okay with it staying this way forever. I have my own home, you know. My own life, and I need to start preparing for this child to come along. I can’t do that while you’ve got me serving a damn life sentence in your guest quarters. You hear me?”

He smirks slightly, but there’s no hint of amusement on his face. I shift my weight slightly, unsure of where I stand with all of this. I thought he would understand where I was coming from; he hardly seems like the kind of guy who takes well to being kept under lock and key, held back from the life he wants to live. But when it comes to me, it seems it’s an entirely different matter, and I have no idea where the hell that leaves me.

Or what the fuck I’m meant to say next.

"I hear you," he replies, eyes glittering with a darkness I can’t quite put into words.

I run a hand through my hair, praying he can’t see the slight pink flush to my cheeks. "So, when are you going to let me out?”

"I’ll think about it. After the baby comes along."