Page 103 of Velvet Chains
Not that it helps much. The crowded New York streets swallow her up, and I lose sight of her in the sea of people. I quicken my pace, pushing past the throngs of pedestrians, ignoring the dirty looks and muttered curses thrown my way.
A few women eye me appreciatively, but I don’t spare them a second glance. My focus is solely on Laura, on the woman who’s supposed to be my wife, the woman who’s carrying my child.
A baby.
A fucking baby.
The reality of it hits me like a physical blow.
Me, Victor Morozov, a father?
The idea is so absurd, so terrifying that I almost want to laugh. But then I think of Laura, of the way she looked at me back there, like I’d shattered her world into a million pieces. And suddenly, it’s not so funny anymore.
I catch sight of her up ahead, her shoulders hunched as she walks. Men’s gazes follow her, lingering on her curves, and I feel a surge of possessive rage. I want to break every single one of their fucking faces, to make them understand that she’s mine, that they don’t get to look at her like that.
But then I remember the way I’ve treated her, the lies I’ve told, and the anger fades, replaced by a sickening sense of shame.
Suka! Of course I know the baby is mine.
We’d been following her for two months before this whole thing turned into a fucking circus. I know every detail of her life, every person she’s interacted with. There’s no other man in her world because she was too damn busy trying to save her precious little bookstore.
I shake my head, disgusted with myself.
Yob tvoyu mat’, I’m such a dick.
I watch as Laura’s steps become more clumsy, her body swaying slightly as she navigates the uneven sidewalk. My jaw clenches, and I fight the urge to rush up to her, to sweep her into my arms, and carry her to safety.
I pull out my phone and hit her number, hoping to hear her voice. I watch as Laura looks down at her screen, sees it’s me, and blatantly ignores the call. She doesn’t even hesitate. Just a quick glance, a subtle tightening of her jaw, and she tucks the phone back into her purse, turning away as if nothing happened. It stings more than I expected, watching her dismiss me without a word.
Suddenly, an image flashes through my mind—a little girl with Laura’s olive-green eyes staring back at me with love and trust. My heart clenches at the thought, and I feel a fierce, protective instinct rise up inside me.
If it’s a boy, I’ll teach him to be strong, to defend himself and those he loves. I’ll shield him from the darkness of my world, from the enemies who would seek to harm him.
Laura stumbles, her ankle twisting in her high heels, and I lurch forward instinctively.
Fuck! Be careful; you have a child growing inside you. My child!
She stops, her shoulders heaving as she catches her breath. I freeze, watching her intently.
She looks down at her feet, and I can see the pain etched on her face. Those heels must be killing her. I scan the street, searching for a place for her to rest, and spot an empty bench just a few feet away.
Laura seems to have the same idea because she limps over to the bench and collapses onto it, burying her face in her hands. Her shoulders shake with silent sobs, and the sight of her tears rips through me like a knife.
And then I see him. Some fucking pretty boy in an expensive suit, sidling up to her with a predatory gleam in his eye. He leans in close, his hand brushing against her knee, and that’s it.
I stride over to them, my vision tinged with red.
No one goes near my wife. No one touches what’s mine.
“Here’s your baby,” Dr. Claire announces, pointing to a small, grainy blob on the ultrasound screen. “See that little flicker? That’s the fetal pole, the first visible sign of the embryo.”
I hold my breath, staring at the black, gray, and white swirls.
It looks like a fucking jellybean, a tiny little thing that’s going to turn our lives upside down.
“It’s around five weeks old,” Dr. Claire continues, her voice gentle. “The heart is starting to form, and the neural tube, which will become the brain and spinal cord, is already developing.”
Five weeks old.
