Chapter 11 When I wake, my first thought is that everything feels wrong. This isn't my bed. This isn't my room. Even the air feels strange. It takes a full minute to remember why. I stretch slowly, savoring the weight of the luxurious comforter a little longer than I normally would. I'm not used to this level of luxury, with these high-thread-count sheets and silk curtains. I'm also not used to the quiet. Sergei's home sits well outside the city's hustle and bustle, and it feels like another world. Back home, taxi horns and the downstairs neighbors' shouting serve as my alarm clock. I pad across the floor barefoot and slip into a bathroom larger than my entire bedroom back home. White-marble counters, gold fixtures, and a rainfall shower big enough for a football team gleam under recessed lights. There's even a separate bidet. I feel like I'm in a five-star hotel. After I shower and dress, I step into the hallway with my phone in hand. It buzzes with a new message, and I smile when I see Mia's name flash across the screen. Just checking in. Still alive? I laugh under my breath and tap out a quick reply. Haven't been murdered yet if that's what you mean. Call? Her reply pings back almost instantly. Duh. I press the call button and tuck the phone to my ear as I make my way downstairs. The scent of freshly brewed coffee drifts up, and my stomach growls at the hint of something sweet and fresh-baked. Needing less temptation, I veer toward the back of the house and into the sprawling gardens. Sunlight spills across my skin, a soft breeze curling around me as I push open the glass doors. "I'm glad to know you haven't been kidnapped or trafficked," Mia teases the second she answers. "Good morning to you, too," I say, already smiling. I step barefoot onto the warm stone path, letting my fingers brush against a bed of blooming hydrangeas as I walk. "You would not believe this place. It's like something out of a fairytale." "Or Dracula's castle?" she quips. "I mean..." I trail off, taking in the riot of blooms surrounding me. The garden is like something out of a regency romance, almost timeless. There's a wrought-iron gazebo tucked beside a koi pond, rows of manicured hedges framing elegant stone benches, and walking trails that snake off toward what looks like an orchard. "I wouldn't be surprised. You should see this garden. It's unreal." "Send pics," she demands. "I need to hate you in full color." I laugh again. "It's absolutely beautiful and peaceful.' Honestly, this is exactly what I needed right now. It's almost like a vacation." There is a pause on the other end before Mia says, more softly, "I'm glad you're okay, Nic, and that you're even enjoying it. Just remember, if he so much as breathes weird, I'm driving out there with my taser and a shovel." "I'll send up the Bat Signal," I joke. Low voices carry on the breeze, followed by comfortable, friendly laughter. I slow, round a bend in the path, and spot six men in perfectly tailored suits. They stand in a loose circle near the far side of the garden, half hidden by a wall of roses. They puff on cigars, oblivious to my presence. Something about them scratches at my brain-familiar yet foreign all at once. When one of them turns, recognition slams into me, and my breath catches. It's the man I saw outside the coffee shop after my night with Sergei. He looks so much like Sergei, only younger. Up close, it's even more obvious. Even though he was with Sergei yesterday when we got Liliya settled, I was focused on my patient and paid him little mind. Now, however, my brin brings him into sharp focus. I stop, heart thudding as our eyes lock across the distance. He could be Sergei's double. He has the same sharp jaw, the same ice-blue eyes, even the same dark hair. He has fewer grays and a livelier energy, though he can't be much younger than Sergei. A permanent smirk curves his mouth, deepening as he approaches. "I have to go," I murmur into the phone. Mia's voice tightens. "What? What's happening?" "Nothing. I'm fine. I'll call you later, okay?" "Nic-" I end the call before she can finish, sliding the phone into my back pocket as the man reaches me. He stops a few feet away, slipping his hands into the pockets of his perfectly cut slacks. His eyes skim over me-not leering, but assessing. He offers a hand. "We didn't get a proper introduction yesterday. I'm Sergei's younger brother, Sasha. And my mom's favorite son," he adds with a wink. "She's probably told you all about me." I shake his hand briefly, trying not to let him see how much he's caught me off guard with his jovial greeting. "It's nice to meet you, Sasha," I say sincerely. "Although I don't remember Liliya saying anything about favorites. In fact, I seem to recall her saying she always wanted girls." "That sounds exactly right." He laughs, deep and rich. "She keeps us humble, that's for sure. She clearly likes you. Sergei said you were exactly what we needed." I nod again, unsure what to say to that. I don't fail to notice his use of "we." Not "she" as in his mother only. It all feels a little awkward. I have no idea what Sergei told him about me. About us. Does he know about our history? Or does he always talk to people with the same shit-eating grin? The men laugh again, and I can't help but look over at them. Sasha glances over his shoulder and smiles, this time more genuinely. "They're old family friends," he says, preempting the question I haven't asked. "We're a close bunch. You'll probably see them around a lot, but nothing to worry about." "I wasn't worried," I say, my voice low. "Family is important." "It's everything," he replies. The gravity in his tone feels like a warning, as if he's daring me to challenge his family. Desperate to change the subject, I open my mouth, but before I can speak a familiar voice slices through the air. "There you are." I turn to see Sergei walking down the stone path, his eyes locked on Sasha first, then flicking to me. There is something unreadable in his expression, but his posture relaxes slightly when our eyes meet. "I see you've met Sasha," he says. "I have," I reply. "We were just talking about how important family is." Sergei's mouth twitches at the corner, not quite a smile, but something close. "It is," he answers simply. Sasha claps a hand on his brother's shoulder and leans in slightly. "She's lovely. I like her." "I told you," Sergei murmurs, and I feel my cheeks heat at the way his gaze lingers on me. "Well, I'll leave you two," Sasha says, stepping back. "Don't scare her off, bratan." "I should be saying that to you," Sergei replies dryly. Sasha disappears back into the group, and Sergei takes a few slow steps toward me. "You're up early," he says. "Just excited to start my day," I say, though truthfully it was my curiosity that got me out of bed. I didn't even think to check the time. He nods and glances past me to the path. "Walk with me?" I nod, and we fall into step side by side, the gravel crunching beneath our shoes. Comfortable silence stretches between us, but I'm keenly aware of him. "How are you feeling?" he asks after a moment. "You were sick yesterday." "Oh, that was nothing. Something I ate just didn't agree with me," I lie, feeling my cheeks flame. Of course he heard me. "I'm feeling much better now, and it helps to be in such a comfortable place. Your home is really lovely." "I wish I could take any credit for that. As I told you yesterday, so much of it was designed by my father. But this garden is all my mother." He smiles, gesturing around us. "She's always been obsessed with gardens. He gave her complete run of the place." I glance over at him, surprised by the softness in his tone. "That's really thoughtful," I say. "She still plants new flowers every spring herself," he adds, gesturing to the bright flower beds around us. "She says it helps keep the tradition alive." There's so much about him I still don't know. Hearing him talk about his parents gives me more insight into who he is and what's important to him. Family truly is everything to him, of that I'm certain. I've never met a man so devoted to family. As we continue walking, I glance back once more toward the group of men. They're still there smoking, laughing, and looking far too well-dressed and well-coordinated to just be old family friends. I can't help the way my thoughts spiral. As lovely and comfortable as this home is, there's something about the group that unsettles me. I watch as they all stub out their cigars and head back into the house. Sergei must be watching me, because he says, "They're here for a business meeting." "A business meeting?" I ask lightly, hoping to keep my tone neutral. That isn't at all what Sasha said, and I feel like I've caught him in a lie. "Yes," he says. "They help with a shipping company I run. We were reviewing logistics." A shipping business-innocent enough, if I let it be. Part of me screams to leave it alone and accept his answer. "It must be a lot to manage," I say, for lack of anything else to add to the conversation. "It is," he replies simply, and we let it drop. "I was thinking," Sergei says, hands slipping casually into the pockets of his slacks, "maybe you'd have dinner with me tonight." "You want to have dinner with me?" Surprise edges my voice. I've been trying to stay professional, and this feels dangerously slippery. He nods once. "Just the two of us. Now that you're living here, I'd like us to get to know each other better." "I'd like that," I say softly, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach. His eyes search mine, and for a moment, I think he might say something more. But instead, he nods, offers me the barest smile, and turns back toward the house, disappearing down the path. Once he is out of sight, I let myself sag slightly, pressing a hand to my belly. It's still flat, but it won't be for long. A thousand thoughts swirl. Is tonight the time to tell him? Should I wait? What if he reacts badly? What if he wants nothing to do with it? What if he does? I meander, fingertips brushing the flower tops, lost in thought. Dinner already feels loaded-one confession could shift everything between us. In a romance-themed observation show, several participants undergo a series of interactions and conflicts filled with love, misunderstandings, and power struggles. In the end, one couple rises to over...