Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Mercifully, they’re not at me.
Well, not until Kirill assists me out of my coat in the entryway.
There’s no hiding the tiny pop in the bottom half of my stomach, and don’t get me started on my excess cleavage. Every man in the room notices it, including Ghost, who is making his way down the stairs. He’s dressed to the nines like tonight’s feast is more a celebration than a standard Friday night get-together.
“Shall we eat since our special guests have finally arrived?” Ghost asks in Russian, his gaze holding mine for a fleeting second.
“In a minute.” With a wave of his hand, Kirill announces for everyone to head into the dining room. “I have a final surprise to set up.” His suspicious-filled eyes bounce between Ghost and me as he demands us to follow his men into the dining room. “I will collect you shortly.” Ghost’s jaw ticks when he leans in to press his lips to my cheek. “Behave.”
It dawns on me what tonight’s celebrations are about when I spot a sign dangling above the mantel in the dining room. I understand little Russian, but I know one word, and it is the most detrimental.
Son.
When my eyes shoot to Ghost, he heads to the bar to pour vodka into a long line of shot glasses. “Can you believe it? He’s finally getting the son he craves.” He hides his twitching jaw by raising a shot glass full of vodka in the air and shouting, “To the Bobrovs.”
I balk when the men echo his sentiments. “The Bobrovs!”
They clink glasses before downing their vodka. The only man who doesn’t drink is Ghost. He stares at me before he places his still full shot glass down on the sticky bar top, then leans his elbows on the railed edge.
His watch tells me everything I need to know.
He knows what every man in this room doesn’t.
That my pregnancy is no longer a ruse.
Before I can wordlessly plea for the chance to explain that it may be a result of the insemination he didn’t do months ago, Kirill returns from setting up his surprise.
“Come. It is in the other room.” I stand on a wobbly pair of legs when he shifts his focus to Ghost and says, “You too.”
I shudder like the night he tried to drown me when our entrance into the room next to the entryway has my eyes locking with a piece of equipment I’ve seen before. It was when Ghost scanned me on the cargo ship.
“Blood can’t lie, Kirill,” Ghost says, his voice as rough as the swirls of my stomach. “She is carrying your son.”
As untrusting as he is corrupt, Kirill replies, “Then there will be no harm checking, will there?” He locks his narrowed eyes with me. They’re as unhinged as they were in the seconds leading to him holding my head under the water last month. “Get on the bed.”
When my eyes instinctively shoot to Ghost to seek permission, Kirill grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks me to the makeshift hospital bed a doctor is standing next to. He is a doctor I’ve associated with a handful of times in the past two months, the one who told me I should reduce my stress.
I mouth, “Lera,” to Ghost when no amount of pain could have me missing his reach for his gun. He’s mad and confused but sane enough to understand there’s no way he will make it from here to Lera before all hell breaks loose.
“Does he look familiar?” Kirill asks, diverting my attention from the doctor to him.
I shake my head, but he doesn’t believe me. “That’s surprising, considering he’s been working with you two the past several months.”
I freeze like a statue when he ends his insinuation by shooting the doctor in the head.
Dr. Marc remains standing for two heart-clutching seconds before he flops to the floor in a contorted position that leaves no latitude to believe he isn’t dead.
“One liar down.” The scold of Dr. Marc’s death is felt by me when Kirill pushes the end of his gun into my stomach before growling, “Two to go.”
When he gestures for Ghost to move forward, Ghost growls out, “It’s your fucking kid. I haven’t touched her.”
“I know.” Kirill sounds more annoyed than pleased. “That’s the fucking point. Scan her.” A whimper seeps through my lips when he stabs his gun in so firmly it will leave a bruise. “Now!”
“All right. Fuck.” Ghost snatches up the wand, coats the end with the special gel, then asks me to lift my dress. Only the slightest quiver hits his jaw when the flabby bulge at the bottom of my stomach is exposed before he pushes down on that exact spot. “If you want proof of the sex, you’re shit out of luck. I can’t tell the difference between a head and an ass with these things. You should have kept the doctor alive until after the…” His words flow into silence when an image pops up on the screen. I don’t know what I’m looking at, but Ghost seems knowledgeable. “I guess that is pretty obvious.” His eyes flick to mine for the quickest second before darting back down to my stomach. “That’s his head.”