Page 91 of Velvet Chains
Finally, I force myself into the bathroom, ripping open the packaging with my teeth. I follow the instructions, my heart hammering in my chest as I set the test on the counter and wait.
Five minutes. That’s all it takes. Five fucking minutes to change my life forever.
I pace the room, my mind racing with a million different scenarios. What if it’s positive? What the hell am I going to do? How am I going to tell Victor?
Oh, hey, honey! Remember that night we got drunk and fucked like rabbits? Well, surprise! You’ve got a bun in my oven!
Yeah, that’ll go over real well.
I glance at the clock, my stomach twisting with nerves. Has it been five minutes yet? It feels like it’s been hours.
Fuck it. Close enough.
I steel myself, then march into the bathroom, snatching up the test with shaky hands.
And there they are. Two pink lines, stark against the white backdrop.
Positive.
I’m pregnant.
Chapter 37
Laura
FUCK, FUCK, fuck, fuck, fuck!
The test slips from my fingers, clattering to the floor as I sink to my knees. I stare at it, my vision blurring with tears.
This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.
But it is. It’s real, and it’s happening, and holy fuck, I’m going to be a mother.
A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat, mixing with the sobs that threaten to choke me. I’m pregnant with Victor Morozov’s baby. The man I’m supposed to be fake married to.
What the hell am I going to do?
I sit there for what feels like hours, my mind spinning with a thousand different thoughts and fears. How am I going to tell him? What if he doesn’t want it? What if he thinks I did this on purpose to trap him?
The very idea makes me want to throw up all over again.
Shit. Maybe this test is fucked up. It’s gotta be too early to tell anyway. I mean, it’s only been a week since I missed my period. With all the crazy shit going on, I totally forgot.
Ten minutes later, I’m sprawled out on the fluffy carpet, my back against the bed.
My mind’s a total blank, but my hands are clutching all three tests. And they’re all saying the same damn thing.
I’m knocked up.
Three fucking times over.
I drop the tests and cover my face with my hands, groaning.
How the hell am I supposed to tell Victor? What if he flips his shit? What if he wants me to… to get rid of it?
Without even thinking, my hand drifts to my stomach, resting there protectively.
No. No way. This is my baby. Our baby. I’m not letting anyone hurt it.
