Page 80 of Velvet Chains
When it’s over, I straighten up slowly, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I’m shaking, my skin clammy and gross.
A hand touches my shoulder, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I spin around to see Dr. Petrov standing there, looking all concerned.
“Are you alright, Laura?” he asks, his eyes narrowed.
I nod, not trusting myself to open my mouth.
He studies me for a moment, and I swear to God, it’s like he can see right through me. “Perhaps we should have a chat later, just the two of us. I think there are some things we need to discuss.”
I swallow hard, my heart doing its best impression of a jackhammer.
He knows. He totally fucking knows.
But how? And more importantly, what’s he going to do about it?
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts.
One crisis at a time, Laura. First, get through this dinner without puking again.
Then, figure out how to handle the very real possibility that you’ve got a little Morozov cooking in your oven.
Chapter 33
Laura
I TAKE a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts.
Fucking don’t panic, Laur.
Maybe it’s just food poisoning.
Yeah, that’s it.
I probably ate something funky earlier, and my stomach’s just revolting. It’s not like I’m definitely knocked up or anything.
I apologize profusely to everyone, explaining that I must have eaten something that upset my stomach. Meanwhile, a swarm of cleaners and maids descend upon the “crime scene” like a bunch of fucking robots, scrubbing away any evidence of my little puke-fest. I apologize to them, too, feeling like a complete ass.
Nadia just smiles, waving off my concerns. “Don’t worry, madam.”
Now that my stomach’s empty, I’m starving. We’re still waiting for someone, apparently, and I’m about ready to gnaw my own arm off.
Just as I sit back down, Dimitry strolls in, giving Andrey a look that’s chillier than a Russian winter before glancing away. “Sorry, I’m late. Work,” he announces, plopping down right next to me.
Andrey shoots him a cold glare before turning to me, his expression softening. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Sorry about that,” I mumble, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow me whole.
“I see everyone is here,” Andrey says, clearing his throat as he deftly moves a bishop across the chessboard. “Serve dinner now,” he commands without looking up from the game, signaling Nadia with a firm nod.
I swear, I could fucking weep with joy. My stomach grumbles in anticipation, and I silently tell it to chill the fuck out.
Food’s coming, you impatient little bastard.
While we wait, the awkward silence around the table is so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Yuri’s eyes meet mine, and he gives a brief nod.
I take a deep breath and decide to break the ice by striking up a conversation with him. “So, Yuri, what do you like to do for fun? Any hobbies or interests?”
