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I also know what’s been nagging at me, and it isn’t anything to do with the Molotovs coming after us.
When Alina disappeared from Moscow, I felt betrayed. It was irrational, as she’d never claimed to care for me or to want our marriage, but her behavior at the fundraiser had given me hope that she was starting to come around. The sympathy on her face when she’d expressed her condolences about Ksenia’s death wasn’t feigned, and neither was her passionate response when I took her hymen in the coatroom afterward. That night felt like a new beginning for us—and then she disappeared.
She fled at the first hint of real intimacy between us.
As I searched for her, I concocted my plan. It was as simple as it was ruthless: find her, marry her, and bind her to me with a child. Or better yet, children, plural. I didn’t think of anything beyond that, such as what bringing children into this world could do to her. What it could mean for her health and safety.
Not once did I consider the possibility that she could die while giving birth, like my mother.
Bile surges into my throat again, sour and metallic despite the salt water coating my lips. I dive and swim underwater with hard, furious strokes, heading away from the boat, away from the terrible fear gripping me—a fear that must’ve been percolating in my subconscious all this time, even as I executed my plan over Alina’s objections.
It’s a fear I now can’t shake off.
I surface for a breath, then dive under again and swim. I swim until my arms feel heavy and the boat is but a speck on the horizon. Only then do I turn back, driven by a primal, instinctual urge.
My wife.
I need her in my arms.
Now.
Chapter 21
Alina
I let out a breath as the black dot that is Alexei’s head emerges from the waves, this time a little closer.
He’s swimming back. Finally.
I have no idea what happened, what prompted him to dive overboard like that, but I can’t say I wasn’t just a tiny bit concerned as he kept disappearing from view, each dive taking him so far underwater that he has to be at least part dolphin.
I suspect this weird behavior of his has to do with his falling asleep. I napped also, for a half hour or so, lulled into relaxation by the sound of the waves and the warm, humid breeze lapping at my skin. But Alexei’s nap must’ve been deeper because he was still asleep when I opened my eyes. Asleep and strangely tense, with his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw tightly clenched.
Was he having a bad dream? I wasn’t sure, so I watched him for a while, intrigued despite myself—because he really is a dangerously beautiful man.
It wasn’t until his face twisted in a grimace and his breathing turned ragged that I called out his name, figuring I’d wake him just in case.
I blow out another breath, the knot between my shoulders unraveling as the powerful strokes of Alexei’s arms bring him ever closer to the yacht. I’m not worried for him, I’m really not. I just… don’t like the idea of him out there in the dark blue water, so far away I can barely see him. The clouds on the horizon are darkening and the wind is picking up, making the waves froth at the tips. Soon, we might be in the midst of a full-blown squall, and as strong of a swimmer as Alexei is, he’s not immune to the forces of nature.
It doesn’t help that the rising waves are making me a bit seasick. I hope it doesn’t mean that another headache is on the way. For me, migraines and nausea often go hand in hand.
Finally, Alexei reaches the ladder on the starboard side. I watch as he hauls himself out of the waves, looking like a sea god with his black hair slicked back and his tattooed muscles gleaming wet and rippling with each movement. My heart pounds somewhere in the region of my throat, and despite my unsettled stomach, a curl of heat licks at my core.
No. Dammit. I need to stop this.
I move to step away from the hull and return to my lounge chair, but he’s already at the top of the ladder, his eyes locking with mine. There’s something savage in his expression, a dark, fierce intensity overlaying the carnal heat in his gaze.
I swallow and instinctively back away. He follows, stalking me like the lethal predator that he is. My heart pounds faster, and an electric current runs up and down my spine. Dragging in a shaky breath, I look away and turn toward the lounge chairs, hoping that by walking away, I can break the peculiar tension.
It’s a mistake. I’ve barely taken a couple of steps before he’s on me, spinning me around to face him with a wet hand on my elbow.
