Page 78 of Velvet Chains
I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. Queen or not, I still have a very real problem to deal with.
The possible tiny human growing in my belly.
I press a hand to my stomach, taking a deep breath.
One thing at a time, Laura.
First, meet with Andrey. Then, figure out a way to get that pregnancy test.
And then… well, then I’ll deal with whatever comes next.
I peek at my phone again.
Got to get going.
Chapter 32
Laura
AS I walk down the path to the garden, my stomach decides to put on a fucking concert.
I press my hand against it, silently threatening to stab it with a fork if it doesn’t shut up. The last thing I need is to draw attention to the possible bun in my oven.
Nadia leads the way, and thank God for that.
My nerves are shot, and my palms are sweating like I’m back in high school, about to give a presentation in front of the class.
I wish Victor was here. I glance at my phone, hoping for a message, but nada.
Figures.
My mind wanders to our wedding, how he looked like he’d gone ten rounds with a brick wall but still managed to make my heart race. Seeing him like that, all bruised and broken… it was the scariest shit I’ve ever seen.
I shake my head, trying to shove down the worry that’s clawing at my insides. Victor’s a tough bastard. He’ll be fine.
I hope.
As we get closer to the garden, the smell of food hits me like a freight train. Something meaty and rich, like a stew or a roast. And is that fresh bread?
Fuck me, my mouth is watering.
My stomach lets out another obnoxious gurgle, and I pray to every god I can think of that it’s drowned out by the noise coming from the glasshouse.
Speaking of which… Hot damn!
This place is like something out of a movie. All shiny glass and flowers everywhere, like a jungle in the middle of the arctic.
We step inside, and it’s like walking into a different world. Warm, bright, and so far removed from the shitshow outside.
“Laura, my dear!” a voice booms, and I turn to see my father-in-law getting up from his seat at the head of the table.
He looks… good. Really good. Healthy, with a twinkle in his eye and some color in his cheeks. A far cry from the last time I saw him.
I can’t help but smile. “Papa, it’s so good to see you. You look amazing.” I feel a bit shy using “Papa,” but it seems right for the moment.”
He chuckles, casually waving off the compliment. “Ah, I’m just glad to be out of that godforsaken bed. My stubborn old friend here kept forcing me to rest—enough to drive anyone insane.” His eyes flick to Dr. Petrov, who is seated at the far end of the table.
I nod, feeling that on a spiritual level.
