“You guys have been weird lately,” I say.
“Weird how?”
“I don’t know. Kirill won’t make eye contact with me. The guards practically bow when I walk past. Even you’ve been acting strange.”
Nelson is quiet for a long moment. “You should talk to your husband.”
“About what?”
“About why everyone’s being weird.”
I lean back against the seat and close my eyes. “That’s not helpful, Nelson.”
“I’m not the one who should be having this conversation with you.”
“So there is a conversation to be had.”
“Talk to Sergei,” he says again.
I sigh. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”
But I don’t want to talk to Sergei. Because talking to Sergei means admitting that something is wrong. And I’m not ready to admit that yet.
The nausea has subsided by the time we pull up to the brownstone. Nelson leads me past the two guards at the door.
The house is quiet. Sergei is probably in his office. He’s always in his office lately, dealing with whatever fallout comes from running a criminal empire while simultaneously hunting a man who wants me dead.
I should go see him.
I should tell him about the nausea and the late period and the tests I bought but haven’t taken.
“Want me to make you something to eat?” Nelson asks.
I smile. “Go eat. I’m going to do some homework.”
He grins. “Thanks.”
Lately, I’ve been using the guest room on the third floor as my study room. In a house crawling with men, it’s hard to find any true privacy. If I’m on the ground floor, there’s always activity. Men coming in and out. Second floor isn’t as bad, but I can still hear the conversations below.
I let myself into the guest room and head for the desk. My eyes drift to the bathroom. Do I want to know? Do I tell Sergei? What will he do?
I wish I had someone to talk to. My mother. Tori. Someone without a penis. Someone who would tell me how to be pregnant. I feel alone. I’ve been feeling it for weeks, but I can’t talk to Sergei about it. He wouldn’t understand.
There’s no way I’m going to be able to study for my finals. Part of me wonders if the whole college thing is a waste of time. It’s not like I have to interview for the role of pakhan of my father’s evil empire. No one is going to check my degrees.
And do I really want to start my next semester with a huge pregnant belly. I won’t be able to run as fast or protect myself as well. I don’t know if Sergei will let me out of the house if I’m carrying his heir.
If I’m right and I am pregnant, I would be delivering somewhere around the Christmas break. So, the timing isn’t horrible, but am I going to do my last semester with an infant at home.
“Stop. You’re spiraling.”
If I’m not pregnant, I’ll get on the pill. If I am pregnant…
I go into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Will it keep Sergei out if he wants in, no. But he has respected my privacy.
I open the linen closet and move the towels. The tests are right where I left them. I pull out all three and stare at the packaging.
Three chances to confirm what I already know.