Page 48 of Pregnant By the Russian Pakhan

Her actions reminded Mira of what a mother would do, and she blinked back tears as she bent her head over her plate. She missed her mother terribly in these moments. True, she hadn’t met her, but she imagined her mother would have been as loving and caring as Madame Pruitt was now.

Remembering her mother brought a resurgence of anger at her father and how he had tried to make it seem like Mikhail was responsible for her mother’s death.

“Isn’t she done?” Mira whispered around a mouthful of cabbage and carrots to Sarah, as Madame Pruitt bustled back toward the kitchen.

Sarah shook her head. “Not even close. She’s cooking up a storm. Seems she plans to cook what you’ll eat for the next month.”

Mira laughed, shaking her head in wonder. As she ate and drank, she reflected that she was settling in nicely into life with Mikhail. They had been married for almost two months now and in all that time, she’d gotten to know and love him more than life itself.

Pity he didn’t seem to feel the same way. Sure, he was caring and attentive, but every time she wanted to declare her love for him, he stopped her. With every passing day, Mira feared more and more that Alena was probably right: Mikhail was incapable of love. He had to be, because how else could a man who was ordinarily so astute and observant miss all the clues she had been dropping like breadcrumbs? She loved him to the moon and back and she yearned to hear him say those same words back to her.

“Mira? Is the juice not to your liking?” Madame Pruitt questioned.

Mira looked up in surprise. She hadn’t heard the other woman return to the dining room, nor had she noticed when Sarah left.

“Everything is absolutely perfect, Madame Pruitt. Thank you. You truly didn’t have to go to all the trouble.”

The woman gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I wanted to.”

She sank into a chair beside Mira’s and peered at her face with eyes that saw way too much.

“Is there some reason you haven’t told him how much you love him?” Madame Pruitt demanded.

Mira froze in shock, her gaze flying to the other woman’s face. Her expression was gentle and kind. “Please tell me, Mira. It’s as obvious as the nose on my face that you’re head over heels in love with Mikhail. So why aren’t you telling him?”

Mira shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. She lowered her gaze to the sausage on her plate and attacked it with zeal.

Silence reigned a bit and then Madame Pruitt placed one hand on her shoulder and demanded, “Are you gonna tell me what’s bothering you or are you gonna pretend that sausage is the most important thing in the world right now?”

Mira laughed nervously and released the sausage. Her eyes filled with tears, and despite her best efforts to blink them back furiously, they dropped down her cheeks.

Madame Pruitt handed her a handkerchief without a word, and that singular act of kindness broke the dam. Mira went from silent tears to gasping sobs in a heartbeat. She was beyond mortified, but try as she might, she didn’t seem to be able to get a handle on herself.

Madame Pruitt abandoned her seat and came over to Mira. She gathered her weeping face against her massive bosom, comforting and shushing her until finally, Mira’s tears began to subside.

She cupped Mira’s chin gently in her palm and made her look up at her. “I see I was right. You’ve been carrying around a lot of pain and hurt and I would like to know why.”

Mira started to shake her head, but Madame Pruitt insisted gently, “Tell me, Mira. You can trust me.”

Mira sighed, and slowly began to narrate how she’d been forced to marry Mikhail by their unique circumstances and how he and her father hated each other’s guts. Slowly, she also began to reveal her growing feelings for Mikhail and how he seemed disinclined to hear of her love for him.

“Any time I try to bring up the subject he either silences me with a kiss, or tosses an expensive gift my way, or he just bolts from the room,” Mira complained. “We have a baby on the way. No one saw that coming, but it’s obvious to me that he’s happy about it. But I would like to know how he feels about me.”

Madame Pruitt sat back down, pulling her chair closer to Mira’s. “It’s perfectly normal to want to know how he feels about you, dear. And he’s so stubborn. But you need to understand something about Mikhail. He is a lover.”

Mira looked up in confusion.

Madame Pruitt nodded for emphasis. “That boy has a heart the size of Texas. Sure, he hides it behind a tough exterior, but I’m telling you, he has the kindest heart of anyone I’ve ever known. He can’t bear to cause pain to innocent people. He can’t bear to see anyone mistreated, and whatever he does, he does it with all his heart. He loves with all his heart.”

Mira frowned, still trying to follow the woman’s explanation.

“When Alena—a curse upon her black soul—broke his heart, he almost went mad. He almost lost his mind. He withdrew from everyone and everything—even from me.”

Mira hadn’t known the exact details of how he’d handled that period. Sure, Williams had shared what Alena had done, but that had been it. There’d been nothing much on how it had affected Mikhail.

Her heart twisted in her chest at how he must have been hurt to see the woman he loved screwing one of his men. His Russian pride must have suffered a severe blow.

“He doesn’t seem to be withdrawn from you now,” Mira observed.

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