“Maybe it’s the stress,” she said aloud. Her cycle had been late in the past when she was staying up late, not eating enough and worrying all the time. So, this could simply be another one of those times.
Digging into the back of one of the closets in his bathroom, she went through a shelf that evidently had been Briggy’s before she was cast out. Rifling through the feminine products until she found an EPT test. Her hands were shaking so badly until she could barely hold the box.
Sitting on the side of the Jacuzzi tub, she tore the box open and ripped the sheath off the plastic covering. She’d find out right now what the hell was going on once and for all.
Standing up, she went over to the toilet, yanked her pants and underwear down and sat on the cold seat cover. Pulling the purple cap off the stick to expose the absorbent tip, she stuck the plastic stick between her legs at a downward angle and waited as a trickle of urine released from her body and turned into a full, even stream.
She pulled the instrument away from her body, cleaned up, flushed the toilet and sat the test on the edge of the sink with the window facing upward.
At that moment, this all seemed surreal. She had never had a pregnancy scare in her life. Now, here she was in the middle of the fight for her life and she could be…
No, she wouldn’t think of that. She wouldn’t panic just yet.
Picking up the box off the floor, she pulled out the instructions and read it. The test promised results six days before other tests. The test promised results in five minutes. The test promised 99 percent accuracy. Putting the instructions in the sink, she turned on the faucet, washed her hands under the stream and grabbed a towel to clean her hands. Looking over at the test, the digital reading turned from an hourglass to a word.
PREGNANT.
The test was shit!
“No,” she whispered, eyes wide as she pulled her gaze from the test to the mirror. Her reflection was as startling as the news. “What have we done?” she asked, voice strained. “What did we do?” Tears began to fall from her eyes in huge droplets down her face.
The quiet hysteria inside of her boiled over. Hitting the sink with her open palms, she cried out. “NO!” she exclaimed in a tone so guttural until it echoed through the bathroom and bedroom to Andriy’s room.
He was sitting in the bed, watching television and eating a snack when his sister’s voice startled him. Jumping out of the bed, he ran through the door that connected their rooms. “Valeriya?” he said, heart pounding. Slowly, he walked into the open door of the bathroom where he found her crumpled on the floor.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, going quickly to her. He bent in front of her and wiped her tears. “What’s wrong? Is Gabriel dead?”
The words were sobering for Valeriya. There were things that were worse than this. “No,” she said, pulling the test from the sink and passing it to him.
He took the test and looked down at it.
“I’m pregnant,” she said, wiping her face.
Andriy was lost for words. Helping her to her feet, he moved her from the marble floor to the chair in the corner of the bathroom. “Sit here,” he said, reaching for a towel on the shelf. Walking over to the sink, he ran hot water over the towel and brought it back to wipe her face.
Valeriya sat quietly in a daze.
“This is not so bad, eh?” Andriy said in soothing voice as he wiped the snot coming from her nose.
She looked up at him incredulously. “This is horrible.”
Andriy was confused. “But you love Gabriel.” He didn’t know much about love, but he knew that this was one of its side effects. What was the big deal?
“Yes, I love him,” she said, shaking her head. That wasn’t the point. Taking the towel from her brother’s hand, she wiped her face and lowered her head to put her elbows on her knees. “If Dmitry finds out, he won’t let me go with him back to Ukraine.”
Andriy wasn’t sure that going was a good idea now anyway. “Well, now you need to rest. Take care of the baby.”
Valeriya closed her eyes. “I can’t.”
“Valeriya,” Andriy protested.
Valeriya cut him off and shot to her feet. “I can’t!” She walked up to him. “You can’t tell anyone. Promise me that you won’t say a word.”
Andriy’s eyes darted away. “This isn’t smart.”
“They don’t know Donetsk the way that I do. They don’t know the people. They can’t identify the players. I’m not staying here, helpless, while they go and fight my battle for me. The only reason that he is there is because he saved me, Andriy. He saved me! And now he’s paying the price for it. I have to go and get him.”
Andriy knew his sister. Trying to reason with her about this was not an option.
But Valeriya needed to hear her brother say it. “Promise me,” she said, grabbing his hand.
Andriy nodded reluctantly. “Promise,” he whispered, unhappy with her decision. Pulling away, he looked at his sister and then quietly excused himself. “I’ll leave you to get yourself together.”
As Valeriya emerged from the bathroom, she heard a knock on the door. Immediately, she thought someone else might have heard her crying. She wiped her face again and cleared her throat.
“Coming,” she said, walking to the door. She opened it to find Dmitry standing in the hallway in another one of his regal-looking tailored suits, making her feel continually shabby in her steady wardrobe of jeans and T-shirts.
“Hello, Valeriya. May I come in?” he asked, looking down at her. He noticed her eyes were puffy and red, but chose not to say anything about it. Her emotions were her business, not his.
“Sure,” Valeriya said, moving out of his way as she held the door open. As he walked in, she noticed two armed guards who took their position outside of the door.
Dmitry walked in, but didn’t close the door behind him. True, it was his house, but his wife was still the boss, especially when it came to women. Walking over to the corner, he took a seat in one of the high-backed chairs. “You will be leaving with Anatoly and the team for Ukraine in two days. I’ll meet you there.”
Valeriya was relieved to know this wasn’t about her outburst. She exhaled a deep breath. “Good. I’m ready,” she said, putting on her game face. She stood taller, hoping he wouldn’t see through her very fragile exterior. “You won’t be sorry about this.”
Dmitry didn’t know her, so he wasn’t sure about that. “We will see.”
“I have people I can still trust with the Donetsk Revolutionaries. I can reach out to them and ask them to help us with recon and even the attack,” she said, walking closer to him.
“No,” Dmitry said, dismissing the idea. “Faddei may or may not have worked alone. I don’t want anyone outside of our men to know that we are coming. You must not reach out to anyone.”
Valeriya digressed. “Well, how can I help?”
“When we get there, there will be plenty to do, many things that you can advise on. Don’t worry. You won’t be idle.” Dmitry looked around his nephew’s room and felt a pang in his heart. “This will all be over very soon. Until it is, continue staying here and keep quiet. After, I have some things in mind.”
“Like what?”
“Evidently, the Ukrainian government thinks you’re dead. They have no idea that the Right for Donetsk is behind Gabriel’s abduction – most don’t know.” He wouldn’t get into the hit he had placed on the man that did know. “So, after this, I want you to work with a friend of mine in DC to send one final message.” Dmitry looked up and smiled at her. “Normally, I don’t get involved in government and politics. But it’s personal now, not business.”
“I could not agree more,” Valeriya said, watching him stand up.
“Good, good.” He walked to the door and looked back. “If you need anything while I am away, Anatoly will take care of it. Royal will watch over your brother while I’m away. We’ll have plenty of security here. And Boris will be running details 24-hours a day.”
&nbs
p; “Thank you for everything,” Valeriya said, trying to hold it together.
“You’re welcome,” Dmitry said quietly. Grabbing the knob, he closed the door behind him. Boris was waiting outside of the door as he came out. He hit Boris on the chest. “Something is up. Watch her carefully.”
“You think she’s trying to plot something against us?” Boris asked with a frown.
“No,” Dmitry said, walking with his men down the hallway. He couldn’t explain it, he just knew from living with women for a very long time that something was amiss with Valeriya. And whatever it was, he didn’t want it to affect her performance in Ukraine. “It’s something else. Just watch her carefully and make sure that she and her brother can’t make any outside calls from the bedroom.” He had an idea. “Put a tap in her bedroom and her brother’s when they go downstairs to dinner tonight. Just audio. No visual. Record everything until I get back.”
“Yes, boss,” Boris answered. “The helicopter is ready. You leave in 10 minutes for the jet.”
Chapter Nine
Weight of Position
Royal Medlov…
After Dmitry’s departure from the compound, Royal felt an inconsolable absence and void that only her husband could fill with his return. She felt that void every time that he left, but more so when she knew that he was headed toward possible danger, which over the years had been more often than not. It was times like this that she truly felt the weight of her position.
She wasn’t just a billionaire’s wife; she was the wife of the most powerful underworld crime boss on the earth. She wasn’t just the mother of three children; she was the mother of three of the largest targets in the world. And no matter what the back story was – no matter how captivating or compelling it was - she had accepted her husband, his family and this life. She had freely chosen to be who she was, and by giving life to his children, she had freely brought more people into this world, who ultimately had to accept this way of life also.
Royal had battled with her self-actualization over the years, and every time that something happened, she had to ask herself serious questions about her role in it. So many people had died, so many people would die before their life was over. Was it worth it? Was there a stopping point? How much would they be forced to sacrifice for the Medlov Crime Family in order to protect its legacy? The truth of the matter was that she didn’t know the answer to any of the questions, but what she did know was that there was no turning back.
Before she married Dmitry, she could truly plead ignorant to his dealings, but after she had taken his name, she knew she could not, because very often in the quietness of their bedroom, alone and away from everyone, she had become his number one counselor – a woman 16 years his junior from a world so different from the world that he had come from.
She had broken through the barriers of one world, into the world that had made Dmitry Medlov the boss, and in that world, she had found who she really was…a boss in her own right – a brutal, quiet extension of the butcher.
There was no crown for her to receive for her efforts, no title for her counsel, only the satisfaction that came with knowing that she helped her husband be the best that he could be. And in those late night conversations, she had transformed into not only his soul mate, but the hand behind the king, who guided his decisions.
This latest decision to go to Russia to meet with the military had been a smart one. Everyone needed allies, even if they were only allies for the moment. Dmitry would need the flexibility to move in Ukraine with someone on his side and someone bigger and more powerful than him to watch over the family. Still, she was in a state of unrest. Anything could go wrong. And there was nothing that she could do about that. She had to trust that her husband had taken every precaution, that he had planned several steps ahead. She had to wait.
Patience was a virtue – a heavenly virtue that was often the most difficult for her. A woman with her knowledge could go crazy waiting for things to happen. So, she had to stay busy and even the most mundane tasks helped her with this when Dmitry was away. It was why every house was decorated with such detail, every legal business had such detail to strategy and every member of her house was loved with such care. She had to have something to do less she find herself at the business end of a bottle.
To help her mood tonight, she had sent word to each woman, minus Briggy, in the house to prepare for a formal dinner. Dinners always made her happy, even when key members of the family were away. It kept her grounded and reminded her of why any of this was important in the first place. Plus, there was the part of Royal that was not so selfish that she could not see the other women’s peril in the family. Even if they felt the same way that she did, longing for their husband’s attention and presence, a good meal with the family who was left, would help them stay sane.
After all, family was loyalty. The one thing that had been proven since she became the matriarch of this sordid group of people was that everyone, no matter how low on the totem pole, no matter how high on it, needed to be recognized and heard.
So in the spirit of patience, she did what she did best. She ordered the staff to prepare a glorious Russian feast in the main dining hall, then she prepared to dress for the occasion. The women looked to her for direction, the staff followed her every word, and like Dmitry had told her a million times before, she set the bar for behavior. Tonight’s dinner would be a primitive celebration for her husband’s victory.
Even though she was sulking over the news that Dmitry had a son and that they would soon be in battle with an entire portion of a country over her nephew, she kept her head held high and her attention on the details.
The chef had called in extra staff to help for tonight’s dinner. It would be exquisite by all definitions of the word. Duck, lamb, cabbage soup, borscht, stuffed pig, crunchy pickles, marinated mushrooms, tons of vodka, bliny, the best caviar, tons of breads, kvass, and an assortment of desserts were all on the menu. To make it more festive, she had also ordered flowers to fill the main hall and the best dishes to be placed for a formal dinner that would rival those put on by any heads of state.
Now she stood in her room, a testimony to beauty and elegance, in one of her finest formal black gowns, with her hair pinned up with crystals accenting the regal diamond necklace Dmitry had bought her to cover her scars and prepared to go down to meet her party in less than an hour.
A bell of voice rang out. “You look pretty, mama,” Anya said, standing behind her in one of her pretty little white lace dresses.
Royal turned to her daughter and smiled at the breathtaking girl who would be queen. “As do you.”
Anya was a young child, but wise beyond her years. Over time, she had grown extremely close to her mother, and as a result knew when the woman of the house was not herself tonight.
“What’s wrong? Do you miss Papa?” Anya asked, walking across the bedroom to stand at her mother’s side. She looked up at Royal with crystal blue eyes, the kind that hypnotized and memorized, then gave a caring smile that bottomed out her mother’s aching heart.
Royal rubbed a hand through her daughter’s long, black cascading curls. She loved her daughter so much until there were very few words that could explain that love. This gift from God had given her a reason not only to live, but to be a better person. In truth, Royal felt shabby in her daughter’s presence. Anya was such a jewel to behold, not only because of her radiant physical beauty, but because of her inner spirit.
“I miss Papa, yes,” Royal said, refusing to be melancholy in front her daughter. “But I’m okay,” she lied. “Just tired.”
“You don’t look tired,” Anya quibbled. “You look sad.”
Out of the mouth of babes, Royal thought. In her form fitting gown, she bent to her daughter and smiled with a little more enthusiasm. “How can I be sad when I have you and your brothers?”
Anya might have been wise, but she could not argue with her mother’s logic on that.
***
Renee Medlov…
Renee was sick when she found out that Anatoly was not coming to dinner. He had sent word from his office by way of one of the guards on her floor that he’d be indisposed for the rest of the night, and unable to make Royal’s soiree. The nerve of that man. He had not even bothered to tell her in person, like she wasn’t important enough to talk to anymore. When the guard delivered the message, she politely closed the door in his face and then picked up her phone to call straight to Anatoly’s office.
But he didn’t’ answer.
That only pissed her off more. She was all about supporting Anatoly, especially during this difficult time, but he was pushing it.
“Don’t make a scene,” she urged herself aloud as she looked over at the crib where their daughter slept peacefully. Just seeing the little bundle of joy eased her mind, but the worry inside of her would not let her have peace. Hovering over the crib in her formal black form-fitting gown, she rubbed over her baby’s curly locks and felt tears run down the side of her cheeks. He was missing their entire life right now, and it was very possible that he would never be back from Ukraine to make up for it.
Damn him.
Anatoly had been absent since the day he arrived to Prague. Every single moment that he wasn’t asleep, he had spent with his men, his father and in meetings. Surely, he saw the importance of this dinner. After all, he’d be gone in a day or two and completely out of her grasp until they got Gabriel.
Maybe what she needed was to make him see the importance?
Calling in the nanny to watch over the baby, she bolted for Anatoly’s office to speak with him at once.
The long walk normally wasn’t as much of a chore as it was tonight. Her heavy footfalls could be heard as she stalked down the halls in her heels, the echo of them bouncing off the walls with each and every step, the swooshing sound of her gown moving around her as she moved past the guards, who got on their ear pieces to warn their boss as she moved closer toward his office.
Gabriel's Regret: Book Two (The Medlov Men 3) Page 16
