Page 52 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

Get it together, I tell her. You don’t even know yet.

Even so, my hand stays on my stomach. I can’t bring myself to move it.

I pull on a cardigan, slip my phone and wallet into my bag, and take a steadying breath.

One stop at the pharmacy, and then I’ll know.

I’m already heading for the front door when Roman walks in.

“You didn’t eat,” he says, his eyes moving to the nearly untouched plate of food on the coffee table.

“I wasn’t hungry.”

He frowns but doesn’t push it. Instead, he settles into the chair across from me and studies my face with an intensity that makes me want to look away.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You look...” He trails off, searching for the right word. “Distracted.”

I am distracted. I’m distracted by the possibility growing inside me, by the future that might be taking shape without my knowledge or consent. I can’t tell him that, though.

“I’m just thinking about everything,” I say. “Anton scared me yesterday.”

Roman nods slowly. “I know it’s a lot. Your three weeks are almost up.”

My heart skips a beat. I’d almost forgotten about the deadline in the chaos of the last few weeks. Almost.

“I haven’t forgotten,” I say.

“I didn’t think you had.” He leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “Time is ticking, Vera.”

I should tell him that I might be carrying his child, that everything has changed in ways I’m only beginning to understand. The words stick in my throat. I’m not ready. Not yet.

“Can we go somewhere?” I ask instead. “Just... drive. Get out of the penthouse for a while?”

Roman shrugs. I can see him weighing my request, trying to figure out what’s really behind it.

“Okay,” he says finally. “Let me make some arrangements.”

He pulls out his phone and sends a quick text. Then he stands and offers me his hand. “Come on,” he says. “Artyom will have the car ready in ten minutes.”

I take his hand and let him pull me to my feet. His palm is warm against mine, his grip firm but not tight.

I follow him out of the penthouse and into the elevator. I’ve made my decision. I just need time to figure out what it means.

The car is waiting when we reach the garage. Artyom nods at Roman and opens the back door, his expression as impassive as ever.

“Where to?” Roman asks as we slide into the back seat.

“Away from the city. Somewhere quiet.”

He gives Artyom an address and the car pulls out into traffic. I lean my head against the window and watch the buildings slide past, their windows reflecting the afternoon sun like a thousand tiny mirrors.

Roman is quiet beside me. He doesn’t try to make conversation or fill the silence with small talk. He just sits there and lets me be with my thoughts. It’s more than I expected from him. More than I probably deserve.

The city gives way to suburbs, and the suburbs give way to countryside. The road winds along the edge of a lake, the water glittering in the distance like scattered diamonds.