Page 44 of A Surprise Baby for the Russian

The hours pass faster than I anticipate. By the time the final firewall is bypassed and the dormant traps are securely buried, the clock on the wall ticks past two in the afternoon.

I close my laptop with a definitive click and stand, stretching my tight shoulders. The raised pink scar beneath my shirt pulls slightly, a dull throb reminding me of the price of our freedom, but I barely register it.

“Thank you, Nikolai,” I say, offering Adrian a firm, brief handshake.

“Don’t mention it, Mykros,” Adrian replies, a ruthless, satisfied glimmer in his eyes as he packs his gear. “Let’s see if the old man gives us a reason to wake them up.”

I leave him and Matvei to it; a restless, protective anxiety has been weighing on me since this morning. I need to see my wife.

I find her in the kitchen.

She is leaning against the counter, staring out the window into the garden, a glass of water held loosely in her hands. The afternoon light catches her hair, making it shine, but her shoulders are slightly curved as if she is carrying a weight she hasn’t named.

The second my boots click against the tile, her posture straightens. She turns around, her dark eyes wide as they lock onto mine, and she immediately puts on that familiar, defensive armor.

“I’m fine,” she says before I can even open my mouth.

I stop a few feet away from her, leaning against the island, keeping my arms crossed over my chest. I don’t crowd her, but I don’t take my eyes off her face either. “I know,” I tell her, my voice level.

She looks at me, trying to read whatever poker face I’m projecting, but she looks away first, her gaze dropping back to her glass.

I don’t drop my arms. I take a slow step closer, closing the distance until I am standing right at her side, the warmth of her body cutting straight through the heavy leather of my jacket. I look down at her pale profile, watching the slight movement of her throat as she takes a quiet sip of water.

“You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders today, Raya,” I murmur, my voice pitched low so it won’t carry down the quiet hallway. “You’re tense. You’re holding yourself like you’re braced for a fight. If everything is fine, why do you look so defensive?”

“It’s just a habit, Yakov,” she whispers, her gaze staying glued to the winter garden outside, refusing to look at me. “When you grow up in this life, you learn to keep your guard up. You know that.”

“I know the difference between a habit and a lie,” I tell her, leaning down, my presence enveloping her against the marble counter. “You’re keeping something from me, malysh. You’ve been doing it since we woke up. There is a secret sitting between us right now, and you’re holding it so close to your chest it’s hurting you.”

A tiny, sharp breath escapes her lips, her fingers tightening around the glass of water until her knuckles go white. For a second, I think she’s going to crack. I think she’s finally going to turn around, throw her arms around my neck, and tell me what’s wrong.

But she doesn’t. She forces a tight, stubborn smile onto her face, turns her head, and meets my gaze with a defiant fire that tells me she isn’t backing down.

“You’re imagining things, Yakov,” she says, her voice steadying. “Go back to your laptop. I don’t need a lecture before dinner.”

I look at her, the silence stretching between us in the quiet kitchen. I know she isn’t fine. I know it down to my bones, because I have spent months decoding her every breath and movement. She is hiding something, a secret she is keeping close to her chest, and she is absolutely not going to tell me what it is today.

A wave of frustration ripples through me, but I force it down. I am a man who was raised in a house of shadows; I have spent my entire life learning how to navigate silence. I am going to have to wait until she is ready to trust me with it.

I have always been exceptionally good at waiting. But as I watch her stand there, pale and distant, I realize that waiting has never frustrated me as much as it does right now.

Chapter 24 - Raya

“Right, you wanna tell me what’s going on? Something’s clearly up, and I’m your favorite person in the world.”

I jump, blinking hard as Sofie’s voice shatters the silence of the bedroom. She doesn’t bother knocking—she never does—and is already halfway across the rug, holding a fresh green smoothie in one hand and a plate of buttered toast in the other. She sets them down on my nightstand right next to the untouched coffee Yakov left me an hour ago.

I lean back against the headboard, pulling the duvet tighter around my chest. “I’m not going to throw up. I’m tired.” I’m totally going to throw up if she doesn’t get that bogey-looking drink away from me.

Sofie doesn’t buy it for a second. She sits on the chair beside the bed, crossing her legs, and gives me the look. It is the same ‘don’t pull that bull shit with me’ stare she’s been using on me since we were kids. You cannot lie to Sofie Volkov; she’s like a bloodhound when she gets even the faintest whiff of untruth. Reaping the benefits of this ability is great when you want a gossip session, not so great when you’re on the receiving end of it.

“Raya, you haven’t finished a single meal in three days,” she says, her voice dropping. “Your face is turning the same shade of green as the smoothie, and there is an entire cup of cold coffee on the table. You think Yakov hasn’t noticed? The man looks like he’s ready to waterboard somebody to get an explanation.”

My throat tightens, a sudden wave of heat washing over my skin. “It’s the stress from everything with Alek. My body is just catching up—”

“Nauseous?” Sofie interrupts softly, with terrifying precision. “Missed your period?”

The room feels suddenly devoid of air. My eyes fill with tears before I can stop them—a mortifying, involuntary reaction that makes me curse my own biology. I blink hard, looking away from her because if I keep looking at her, the truth will spill out. And once it is out, everything changes.