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RUSLAN:My office. Now.
I hold my phone up so that Kirill can see the message. “He realizes he fired me, right? I no longer have to be at his beck and call.”
Kirill smiles sympathetically. “Some friendly advice? Go to him. It’s easier that way.”
“Pussy.”
Kirill rears back with a hand over his heart. “My goodness! The lady has the mouth of a sailor.”
“Where’s his office?”
“West wing. It’s the blue door at the end of the corridor. You’ll know it when you see it.”
“Keep an eye on the kids, okay?”
He gives me a cheeky little bow and I make my way through the mansion. This place should come with map displays at regular intervals like a shopping mall. Four wrong turns and two helpful maids later, I find myself gawking at the blue door that Kirill mentioned.
Much as I hate to admit it, Kirill’s right: I can’t avoid Ruslan forever.
Though I sure as hell wouldn’t mind trying.
Come on, Emma. Just get it over with.
I don’t bother knocking. I just push the door open and find myself in an office that feels hermetically sealed off from the rest of the house. The whole space is spartan, cold, completely lacking in feeling or warmth.
It suits the man behind the desk.
“Sit.”
I flinch but I keep my tone light and breezy. “What, no ‘hello, Emma’? No ‘how are you, Emma?’”
“I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen.” He pulls out a familiar stack of papers.You have got to be kidding me.“Recognize this?”
“Oh, you mean the bane of my existence? How could I forget.”
He doesn’t react to that apart from flinging our signed contract onto his table so that I can confirm that itisin fact the bane of my existence.
“I’m not signing anything else,” I warn.
He laughs cruelly. “What would it matter even if you did? We both know you don’t honor your deals.”
“That is completely—”
He holds up his hand and, against all my better instincts, I find myself shutting up.Sienna would never let herself be shut down like that.
“You’re not required to sign anything further. But what you have signed still stands. The addendum to the contract still stands.”
I tense. “You mean—”
“You’re pregnant.” Something flashes across his eyes when he says it. “And as the contract states, you will be provided for. Congratulations, Emma. You got the security you were after.”
I grip the edges of my seat and bite down on my tongue. He’s making it seem like I concocted some diabolical plan to screw him over. A big, evil, mustache-twisting scheme to cheat him out of his money so that I can have a cushy life.
Doesn’t he get it? This massive mansion, the surrounding grounds, all the luxury—that’s not what I want. It was neverwhat I wanted.
“Once the baby is born, you and the children will be moved to your own estate. None of you will ever want for anything ever again. But let me make one thing very clear: you are here in the capacity of a glorified surrogate. You are the baby’s mother, but that is all. You will get the benefits of my lifestyle. But you will not get me.”
With only a few words, he’s cut me down. I’m not a person anymore; I’m a walking womb. An incubation chamber.
