Page 113 of Filthy Lies

And just like that, the dam breaks.

“I thought I was pregnant. I took a test while you were gone. It was positive.”

His entire body goes still. His eyes—those fucking gorgeous blue eyes—dilate until only a thin ring of color remains. “You’re pregnant?”

“No. That’s the fucked-up part. I took another test yesterday. Negative. The first one was just a false positive, I guess.”

“I see.” His face is unreadable. “And you’re upset about this.”

“I don’t know what I am.” I swallow and knuckle at my eyes again. “When I thought I was pregnant, I was terrified. Another child? Now? With Solovyov’s men attacking our shipments and your father still under house arrest and who knows what else still out there?” I shake my head, fresh tears spilling over. “It seemed like the cruelest joke.”

“But…?”

“But then when the second test was negative, I was…” I struggle for the word, but it won’t come.

“Devastated.”

“Yes. And then I felt like the most selfish asshole who’s ever lived. What does that make me?”

“Human,” Vince says at once. “It makes you human.”

I pull away from him, anger suddenly rising like bile in my throat. “Don’t fucking pacify me, Vince. We both know our lives are anything but human. We live behind walls guarded by killers. Our daughter has never been to a public park. The last time we left this compound together was for Sofiya’s christening, and someone tried to fucking kill us.”

“And you still want another child.”

“Yes!” I shout, surprising myself with the ferocity of it. “I do. What does that say about me? And don’t sayhuman.Because we both know that’s utter bullshit. We haven’t been ‘human’ for a long time.”

Vince rises, paces the length of our bedroom. His shoulders are rigid beneath his dress shirt, the line of his jaw sharp enough to slice me wide open.

“When you thought you were pregnant,” he says carefully, “why didn’t you call me?”

I don’t have to think hard to answer that. “Because I was afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Of what you’d do.” I meet his gaze steadily. “Of how far you’d go to protect us.”

He flinches as if I’ve physically struck him. “Is that what you think?” he asks. “That I’m looking for excuses to be a monster?”

“No.” I stand, close the distance between us. “I think you’re trying so fucking hardnotto be one that sometimes you overcompensate in ways that terrify me.”

“Like at the hospital.”

“Like at the hospital,” I confirm. “Vince, you were ready to execute the doctors because Sofiya had a fever.”

He doesn’t deny it. His hand comes up, traces the curve of my cheek with tenderness.

He is quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. Then something changes in his face—a decision made, a path chosen.

“I’ve been thinking about Costa Rica,” he says finally. “The development there is nearly complete. Legitimate business, away from New York. Away from my father, from the Solovyovs, from Grigor.”

My breath catches. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying there are alternatives to this life. Ways to protect our family that don’t involve armed guards and panic rooms.” His fingers slide into my hair, cradling my skull. “If you want another child, Rowan, we’ll have another child. And we’ll find a way to keep them safe that doesn’t turn me into someone you fear.”

Hope unfurls in my chest—fragile, tender, but undeniably there.

“Do you mean that?” I whisper.

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