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I take Mikhail’s hand when he reaches for me. He leads me up to our house – our house, not just his – and brings me inside. I laugh when he helps me over the threshold.
"OK, Mikhail, when I am like nine months pregnant and huge, maybe then you can help me over the threshold or help me tie my shoelaces or whatever you need to do. But right now? I'm fine. Please."
"Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean that I’ll take it any easier on you," he says with what is an attempt at a stern look, but he's definitely bluffing.
“Hmph.”
"Are you hungry?"
Polina got me a candy bar from the vending machine in the hallway at the hospital, and while it was a quick fix to give me energy then, now I'm starving.
"Any cravings? Aversions?" he asks.
Okay, so he’s being about as cute as Mikhail gets. “Um, I’ve barely wrapped my mind around the possibility of me being pregnant, and I don't know if I've quite gotten to the cravings or aversions part." I shudder. "DefinitelynotMoscow Morsels."
He grins. Actually grins, and it's so rare I let myself stare at him, fusing it into my memory for the next time he goes all overbearing asshole on me.
Maybe I am craving something. Something deliciously cheesy and crispy on the edges. My mouth waters. "Pizza sounds excellent right now."
"Good as done. Go lie down. I'll order the food, and I'll join you in a minute."
When we get to our bedroom, I kick off my shoes. He stands behind me and silently unzips my dress. When he bares my shoulder to him, he bends and places a kiss right there. Then he walks away toward the bathroom, still talking.
"I'll have to assemble a team of bodyguards to make sure that you're safe."
"Mikhail? I already have a team of highly trained bodyguards!"
He pierces me with a stern look and raises an eyebrow at me. "Are you talking back to me?"
My heart immediately thumps. Even pregnant, I have no doubt that he will still demand obedience and respect. He hasn't gotten a personality transplant, after all.
"I will stop at nothing, Aria. Fucking nothing to make sure that you and our baby are safe."
"I know you will. That's who you are. That's what you do."
He's experienced grave loss in his life, and he's dedicated to making sure it doesn't happen again. It's more than that, though. I remember what Polina told me about his having to marry, securing his family. I remember him telling me that my duty to him was to bear his child.
There's something more at play here. But tonight, I don't care.
Tonight I want pizza and a good night’s sleep.
"I'm building you a safe room," he says over the sound of running water.
What is he doing in there? Drawing a bath?
"I'll have surveillance cameras and reinforced walls, so if there's any type of threat, you retreat there."
His home is already an absolute bastion of safety. But whatever floats his boat.
“Alright, honey,” I say on a yawn.
When I’m in bed, I’m thinking over how quickly things can change. This morning, I was convinced I had food poisoning. Tonight, I was convinced Volkov poisoned me, and now, I know that one of my greatest fears has actually come true.
I'm pregnant. There's a baby knitting in my womb at this very minute and my overprotective husband is going to lose hismind.
I lie against the pile of pillows in bed and note that I’m practically floating on them.
"Mikhail? Are there more pillows in here?"
