Chapter 22 Two weeks slip by, and somehow, I forget how to breathe without him. It isn't intentional. There's no conversation, no formal decision. I simply climb into his bed one night and never really climb back out, aside from the couple of nights Liliya needs me late and I don't want to wake him. Otherwise, we've become almost inseparable. Whenever I crawl into bed, he wraps his arms around me as if he's afraid I'll float away. His touch is reverent and unexpectedly tender. The moment we connect, it's impossible to break free of him, not that I want to. Which makes it even harder to protect my heart. But at some point I stop trying. I'm falling hard, growing accustomed to him in a way that scares me. He still keeps his walls up, of course. He still has his secrets, yet they haven't tempered my feelings for him. I cradle the small envelope the doctor gave me. From the back seat of the town car, I study the tiny blob I glimpsed for the first time only hours ago. Right now he barely resembles a human, but I heard his heartbeat. I don't actually know he's a he, but it's fun to think of him that way. My little nugget, tucked inside me, growing stronger every day. And with every millimeter he grows while I stay silent, the secret between us becomes harder to confess. But I want to. I really, really want to tell him about our baby. It would lift the weight I've been carrying on my shoulders and, if anything, bring us even closer. Now that we're becoming so inseparable, it only makes sense. Plus, sneaking off to OB-GYN appointments is about to become impossible. He always asks where I'm headed, not to control me, but because we truly miss each other when we're apart. Sooner or later, I'm bound to slip up and blow my cover. Or he'll notice my body changing. The clock is ticking. I stare out the window, letting the city blur past while my thoughts wander. I barely register when the car stops outside the café where I'm meeting Mia for lunch. "Miss Sullivan?" the driver calls, and by the timbre of his voice, I assume it isn't the first time he's tried to get my attention. "We're here, Miss Sullivan. Would you like me to circle the block?" "Sorry," I mutter, shaking my head. "This is fine. I'll text you when I'm ready to be picked up." He nods as I get out, and I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Being chauffeured everywhere still feels surreal, but Sergei insists. A few days ago I'd half-joked that I didn't like him tracking my every move, and his earnest promise that it was only about my safety had melted me. "You're free to go wherever you'd like, and I never have to know where," he'd said before pressing a kiss to my lips. "This way, I just know that wherever you are, you're safe." Of course, the lingering question remains: why do I even need that level of protection? I never felt unsafe before, but I don't second-guess his judgment-and I certainly don't turn down his kindness. When I step inside the café, Mia is already perched at our usual table by the window. She spots me and waves me over, her grin as bright as ever. I'm instantly struck by how much I've missed her these last few weeks. My old life feels like a distant dream whenever I'm with Sergei. "Well, well, look who finally decided to come down from her castle on the hill," she teases as I slide into the chair across from her. I laugh, rolling my eyes. "It's not a castle." "It's got more bathrooms than the hospital, Nic," she teases, though we both know that's a stretch. "It's absolutely a castle." "It's a small castle," I concede, reaching for the steaming cup she's already set out for me. "Sorry I haven't called in a few days. Things have just been hectic." "With the pregnancy?" Mia asks, her concern knitting a faint line between her brows. Then her expression turns sly. "Or are you having a lot of sex with your hot baby daddy?" I choke on my decaf. "We're not...we don't-" I sputter, but she sees right through me. Heat floods my cheeks. "How did you know?" It's a ridiculous question; Mia has a sixth sense for these things. "Please, I could tell the moment you walked in here." She laughs, a little too loud. "So, how is it?" She takes a long sip of her latte, eyes fixed on me over the rim. I lean back and let the warmth of the cup settle into my palms. "It's incredible," I admit, practically melting. "Every time we have sex, I think there's no way it can top the last time, yet somehow it does." "I'm so jealous," she whines. "It's been way too long since I've had a good lay. And I bet your pregnancy hormones are making it even better. How's all that going?" "It's getting better," I say, relieved the symptoms have eased. "I'm still tired most of the time, and a little nauseous in the mornings. But my little nugget is really healthy. I actually just came from an appointment." "Oh, my God!" she squeals. "Do you have the ultrasound picture? Let me see my niece or nephew!" I laugh as I pull the envelope out of my purse and hand it to her. I watch anxiously as she pulls out the photo and her eyes go wide. I swear I catch a tear glinting at the corner of her eye, but I know better than to call her on it. I'm typically the crybaby in our duo. "Nicole, he's absolutely perfect!" she says softly. "That's so funny," I murmur. "I've been thinking of him as a boy too. I hope we're not too disappointed if she's a girl." "Boy or girl, they are going to be the most spoiled baby in all of New York!" she squeals, handing the envelope back to me. "At least by me. And, I'm guessing, by Dad? Or have you not told him yet?" There it is. Her tone stays playful, but worry flickers beneath it, matching the knot in my own gut. I drop my gaze to the swirls of foam in my drink. "I'm going to tell him soon," I say into my coffee, unable to meet her gaze. Mia sighs. "Nicole." The single word is almost chastising. "I know," I say quickly. "I know, okay? But this isn't something I can just slip into conversation or blurt out during sex. This is huge news, and I have no idea how it might affect us." "Exactly," she says, eyes steady. "You don't know. But I guarantee that letting him figure it out on his own when you're suddenly in maternity-wear is not the way." I nod but stay silent. She's right, of course. And now that we have some semblance of a real relationship, it's all that much more complicated. There's more at stake if the news lands badly. "I'm scared," I admit, absently stirring my drink. Mia reaches across the table and covers my hand with hers. "I know." Her voice is gentle. "But the longer you wait, the harder it's going to be. What if he finds out from someone else?" The thought twists my stomach worse than any morning sickness. "I don't want to lose him," I whisper. "Then trust him," she says simply. "If he's worth all of this, he'll understand." I nod again, more to reassure myself than her. "I'll tell him soon," I promise. She squeezes my hand, then settles back in her chair. "Good. And for what it's worth, it sounds like he really cares about you." "I think he does too." I smile faintly. We sit in easy silence, watching the world slip past the window. It's strange to be back in the heart of the city after hiding away in Sergei's mansion for so long. I miss the constant buzz, yet I'm starting to enjoy the quiet. I wonder if I'll miss Sergei's place just as much when I inevitably have to leave. Before I can say a word, a sharp crack splits the air outside. I freeze, my heart slamming into my ribs. Another one follows, sharper this time, and people around us gasp, some already ducking beneath tables. My breath catches as I instinctively reach for Mia, dragging her down with me under our table. People scream and cry. Chairs clatter. The barista dives behind the counter, and someone yells for the police. Mia grips my hand tightly, her eyes wide with panic. "Are they shooting at the café?" she whispers. "I don't think so," I whisper back, straining to hear what's happening outside. My ears ring, and my heart thunders. Footsteps pound the sidewalk, shouts erupt-then the commotion fades, moving away. Eventually, the shooting stops, and we all peek out from under our hiding spots. Police cruisers scream past the café, and it finally feels safe enough to emerge. I release the breath I've been holding and slowly sit up, my muscles trembling. Mia follows, her expression still pale and shaken. "What the hell was that?" she asks, still breathless. "I swear, this city gets worse every day." "I know." I rub a hand over my face, as if I can scrub away the unease coiling in my gut. The feeling has been nibbling at the edges of my mind for weeks ever since I met Sergei. Anytime danger so much as brushes my senses, I think of him. I can't help wondering if he's involved somehow, if I'm about to be dragged into something ugly. It feels paranoid, but that's where my mind goes when he refuses to tell me what he really does. Mia and I sit in stunned silence, letting the adrenaline drain from our systems. Around us, people start to get up, checking on one another, talking in low voices. Someone starts laughing hysterically, fear curdling into something absurd. We all feel the weight of it. "Do you want to get out of here?" Mia asks, setting her coffee down and eyeing it with sudden distaste. "I just want to crawl into bed and hide under a blanket." "Me too," I admit. "You okay?" "Fine," she says quietly, standing up. "That was just a lot." I stand up too and give her a long, hard hug. "Call me the second you get home," I say. "I need to know you're safe." "I will," she promises, and I watch her walk out, then text my driver that I'm ready to leave. 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...