Page 87 of Bratva Bidder
“We’ll keep it down,” I mutter.
Dr. Rhodes doesn’t smile. He glances back at Nikolai’s monitor and then down at his notes. “I need access to every medication he’s been on in the last three years. Doses. Timelines. Any off-prescription treatments, vitamin protocols, even traditional remedies. All of it.”
Nadya steps forward quickly, her voice regaining control. “I have all the records at my apartment. I kept everything. Hard copies and digital backups.”
“Perfect,” Rhodes says, already scribbling a note. “Bring them by as soon as you can. The more history I have, the more accurate the next round of tests will be.”
She nods, grabbing her bag. “I’ll go now. It’s only fifteen minutes away.”
“I’ll come with you,” I say instinctively, already moving to follow.
She turns, lips parting to argue, but before she can speak, a small voice breaks the air behind us. “Mommy?”
We both stop.
Nikolai’s sitting up slightly, pale and blinking, looking between the two of us. His small voice is barely above a whisper. “Is it true?” he asks. “Is he…really my dad?”
Time stops.
The machines hum softly. A nurse walks past outside the glass. A clipboard snaps shut somewhere in the hall. But inside this room, everything freezes.
Nadya stiffens beside me. I see the fury spark in her eyes before she even looks at me. I have a feeling if we weren’t at the hospital, she would stab me right here and now.
She walks over to him quickly, her face softening, crouching at his side. “Baby, don’t worry about that right now,” she murmurs, brushing his hair back. “You just rest, okay? Mommy will be right back.”
He nods once, sleep already pulling him back under. She kisses his forehead, stands, and walks out of the room without a single glance in my direction.
I follow her.
The door closes behind us with a whisper and the moment we hit the hallway, Nadya spins on me.
“I can’t believe you told him,” she says through her teeth, keeping her voice down but laced with fury. “You toldNikolaiyou’re his father.”
“I didn’tplanto, Nadya,” I snap, matching her low tone, “but I wasn’t going to lie to him either.”
She turns toward me, eyes flashing. “He’s five. He’s scared. And he’s sick. You just dropped that on him without warning?”
“You weren’t there,” I say tightly. “What was I supposed to do? Lie again?”
“You could’ve toldmefirst,” she hisses, as we walk toward the car. “You could’ve letmetell him, onmyterms. Not in a fucking hospital room after you stormed in and changed his entire care team like you were buying a goddamn car.”
We reach the car, the black SUV Lev left parked out front. Her hand is already on the door when I grab her wrist and pull her back.
She spins to face me, furious and breathless. “You don’t get to do this, Konstantin. You don’t get to sweep in, throw your power around, and then make yourself the hero?—”
I shove her back against the side of the car, not hard, just enough to make her gasp and stop talking.
My body is pressed flush to hers, my hand flat against the door beside her head, caging her in. Her eyes are wide, chest rising fast beneath her coat. She opens her mouth like she’s about to yell, but I dip my head closer and her breath catches.
“Say it,” I murmur. “Say you don’t want this.”
She glares at me, fire flashing in her eyes—but she doesn’t move. Doesn’t push me away.
“You’re such a bastard,” she breathes.
I lean in closer, brushing my lips against the curve of her cheek. “You’ve known that since Barcelona.”
She shudders.
