39
LENA
Iforce myself down the stairs that evening, my stomach still queasy but manageable if I don't think too hard about food.
Aleksandr can't know I'm pregnant. No one can. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I haven't figured that part out.
The dining room glows with warm light when I enter, and both Aleksandr and Danil look up from where they're already seated. Aleksandr's gold eyes track over me, his intelligent gaze searching me for signs of illness.
"Feeling better?" he asks, standing to pull out my chair.
"Much." The lie comes easily now. "I think I just needed rest."
Danil pours wine, and I accept a glass even though the smell makes my stomach turn. I take the smallest sip possible, then set it aside and focus on the food being served. Roasted chicken, vegetables, bread. Simple things that might actually stay down.
"So," Danil says, cutting into his chicken with the precision of a surgeon. "The party planning is going well?"
I nod, grateful for the neutral topic. "I got in touch with the event planner and we're going to meet later. She has some great ideas and seems very up-to-date on parties, themes, and how to manage such an occasion on short notice."
"Good." Aleksandr's knee brushes mine under the table, and heat shoots up my thigh. I shift slightly away. "I want this to be memorable."
"Oh, it will be." I take a careful bite of chicken. "You're essentially throwing yourself a 'glad I'm not dead' party. That's pretty memorable."
Danil chokes on his wine, coughing into his napkin. When he recovers, he's grinning. "She has a point, Boss."
Aleksandr's mouth quirks. "I prefer to think of it as a strategic gathering."
"With champagne and a string quartet," I add. "Very strategic."
"The champagne loosens tongues," he says. "The music covers conversations people think are private."
"And here I thought you just wanted an excuse to see me in a fancy dress." The words slip out before I can stop them, flirtatious and dangerous.
His eyes darken, dropping to my mouth. "That's a bonus."
Danil clears his throat loudly. "Should I leave you two alone?"
"No," we say in unison, then look at each other and laugh.
The tension breaks, and dinner becomes almost normal. Danil tells a story about a job that went sideways in Prague, complete with a car chase and a very angry opera singer. Aleksandr counters with something about a deal in Moscow that involveda goat, three bottles of vodka, and a misunderstanding about property boundaries.
I find myself laughing, really laughing, for the first time since we left Montana. My stomach settles, the food stays down, and for a few hours, I can almost pretend this is just dinner with friends instead of a meal with my captor and his enforcer.
And the father of my baby.
When Danil finally excuses himself, claiming he needs to check on security arrangements, Aleksandr walks me to my room. We stop outside my door, and the air between us feels charged.
"Thank you," I say quietly. "For tonight. For making it feel almost normal."
"Almost." His hand comes up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing across my cheekbone. "We're getting there."
He leans in, and I think he's going to kiss me. Iwanthim to kiss me, despite everything. But he just presses his lips to my forehead, gentle and chaste, then steps back.
"Goodnight, Lena."
"Goodnight."
I close the door and lean against it, my heart pounding so hard, I can hear it in my ears.