Page 47 of Pregnant By the Russian Pakhan

“Should I call the cops, Mira?” Sarah asked.

Alena’s gaze flicked to Sarah and she gave the other girl a disparaging glance before turning back to Mira. “I have something to say to you, Mira. And believe me, you want to hear it.”

“So speak,” Mira invited. “I’m already your captive audience.”

Alena tsked, “You sound just like Mikhail. You’re quickly becoming his bitch, aren’t you? It’s a sad thing to see.”

Mira tossed her head, “How would you know? I heard you’re the bitch of any man who waves a dick in your direction.”

Even as the words left her lips, Mira’s face reddened with embarrassment. She had never been one to descend to catty comments or name-calling so why was she doing that now?

Sarah hooted at that one and Alena’s face went dark with anger. “My relationship with Dmitri was sacred and none of your business.”

“Funny you should say that,” Mira countered. “I feel the same way about my relationship with Mikhail.”

Alena swallowed, visibly getting herself under control as she said, “No woman should have to be trapped in a relationship with Mikhail Nikolai. He’s evil, through and through.”

“Is he now?” Mira responded with marked unconcern.

Alena glared at her. “I’m trying to save you, Mira. Ask yourself why I felt the need to leave him after five years together and despite his many gifts to me.”

“I’m sure it’s none of my business why you felt the need to cheat on him,” Mira retorted. “But if you absolutely have to bare your soul to someone, I would suggest you seek out a confessional and talk to a priest. I don’t have time for this.”

As Mira started to turn away, Alena called, “He doesn’t love you, you know. Mikhail is a passionate and generous lover in bed, but he is truly incapable of love. He can never truly be yours. He is a stone-hearted bastard and no one’s ever been able to penetrate that tough shell of his.”

Mira paused, listening and feeling her heart thud in her chest at Alena’s words. Hadn’t she already felt that Mikhail was cold and ruthless? But when he had found out that she tried to kill him he hadn’t harmed a hair on her head. If it had been her father in his place, she wouldn’t still be alive contemplating the matter; she would be in a shallow grave pushing up daisies right now.

“Has he ever told you he loves you?” Alena demanded.

Mira felt uncertainty clutch at her chest. Mikhail had never said he loved her in so many words; but then again neither had she. Besides, any man alive would be hard put to confess his undying feelings while he was dodging being poisoned in his own home.

Thrusting out her chin, she turned to face Alena, “I honestly do not know what you hoped to achieve by coming after me today Alena, but I assure you, there’s nothing to be gained here. I know what I want out of this relationship and that’s all there is to it. Please leave me alone.”

She looked at Sarah, “Let’s go.”

“Walk away Mira Dostoevsky but remember, your house is about to collapse around your ears like a pack of cards. I’ll bring you both to your knees if it’s the last thing I do,” Alena vowed.

“It’s Nikolai now. Mira Nikolai.”

With that, Mira tried not to let Alena’s parting shot bother her but something about that woman told her those were not empty threats. Alena had crazy eyes and she seemed like a woman on a mission.

But somewhere deep in her heart, Mira couldn’t shake the niggling of unease about what Alena had said. If Mikhail truly was incapable of loving anyone, what would happen to their unborn child? Would it be starved of the love of a father just like she had been?

Unable to stop worrying, her hand hovered protectively over her mid-riff as she pulled back into traffic. She silently vowed to her child that she would shower it with enough love for a mother and a father. She wouldn’t let her baby miss parental love like she had.

Her gaze lit on the bumper of Alena’s car as the other woman sped ahead. Mira decided that though she didn’t know what Alena was planning, she knew this much; she intended to stay alive for her child.

Chapter 29 - Mira

Madame Pruitt was a hoverer, Mira decided the next morning over breakfast. The woman had the dramatic ways and flair of her French forebears, but she also tended to hover and worry like a mother hen.

It was easy to see why Mikhail was so attached to her, Mira thought with a small smile.

Madame Pruitt had bustled into their house at the crack of dawn and commandeered the kitchen and the kitchen staff because she “suspected they did not know the proper way to cook for a pregnant woman.”

When Mira had tried to protest that she was being taken proper care of, Madame Pruitt had ordered her to shush and put her feet up. Even Mikhail had been banished to his office with stern instructions not to interrupt her while she cared for her “daughter.”

An hour later, Mira was seated at the breakfast table enjoying a meal of fruits, veggies, and two sausages. The two sausages were a grudging concession on Madame Pruitt’s part because she had stubbornly insisted that Mira had to eat only “organic” food while she was expecting.

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