His Pretend Baby

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His Pretend Baby Page 72

by Theodora Taylor


  “What if I say no?” she asked him.

  This question made his cold eyes finally meet hers. “Don’t say no,” he answered.

  A bolt of fear shot through her, one he must have seen on her face, because he said, “You think I am crazy. You are scared of me now.”

  “I’m…” She stopped and took careful survey of her emotions. “I don’t know how to feel. I don’t like being threatened. And I don’t like being blackmailed.”

  He shook his head. “I am sorry but this is way it must be.”

  It occurred to Sam then that she wasn’t going to win this argument with him. She could talk to him until she was blue in the face about split custody and mindful parenting, but it wouldn’t do any good.

  For whatever reason, Nikolai was determined to be a part of this baby’s life, even if it meant marrying someone he didn’t love. And maybe…

  She couldn’t believe this thought was occurring to her even as it did, but maybe he had a point. It wasn’t like her mother’s relationship had suffered from lack of love—if anything, what she’d seen of marriages over the years had involved too much love. Sick obsessions disguised as romantic love.

  She thought of all the men who had shown up at the shelter. Not the violent ones, but the ones who stood outside crying, pleading for their girlfriends to come out. Apologizing over and over and promising to never do it again. The dirty truth was those were the men most likely to convince their wives to come back to them. The ones who couched their invitations to return for more beatings and more emotional abuse in proclamations of love.

  So she had to give Nikolai credit. At least he’d been straight-forward about his intentions in marrying her.

  “So you don’t think I’m an unfit mother?” she asked him, just to be sure.

  “No,” he answered instantly. “I did not tell Kevin to say those things to you. I have seen you with Pavel and I know you will be very good mother. This is why I want to marry you.”

  Once again, not exactly the most romantic thing she had ever heard, but considering the situation, maybe it was time for her to give up on her old notions of romantic love.

  She went over her list of the classic signs of abuse and was surprised to find that though Nikolai’s offer was unorthodox, it wasn’t exactly abusive.

  Still, she tested the water to make sure.

  “Marco,” she said, floating the name like a toy boat into their conversation.

  His face hardened. “What about him.”

  “If I marry you, would you use whatever connections you have at Indy PD to put him back on his regular rotation?”

  “Why?” he asked, his voice hard with suspicion.

  “Because Marco doesn’t deserve to lose his beat, that’s why,” she answered.

  Nikolai’s jaw set. “I do not want you with someone else while pregnant with my baby.”

  She shook her head. “This is none of your business, but just to cut this line of argument short, Marco isn’t my boyfriend. In fact it’s fair to say he never was. We went on a few dates, but we never slept together. And quite frankly, I don’t ever want to sleep with him.” She told him like she’d told Marco, “We weren’t a good match.”

  Nikolai’s eyes ran over her face as if trying to gauge whether she was telling to truth or not, and Sam released an annoyed sigh. “I don’t think this arrangement is going to work if you can’t take me at my word on things—”

  “I believe you,” he suddenly said, voice grim as a storm cloud.

  Sam eyed him suspiciously. “And you’ll make sure he gets put back on his rotation?”

  Something ticked in Nikolai’s jaw, like she was making a very large ask, but nonetheless he said, “Da.” Then he asked, “We have deal?”

  Sam eyed him nervously. She needed a reason to say no, but try as she might, the more she mulled it over, the more sense Nikolai’s proposal made. She’d get to be a mother to both Pavel and the baby inside of her, and she already knew Nikolai’s M.O. It wasn’t like he’d be interfering much with how she raised the children. Her children. A tentative hope sprang up in her heart. This really could be the most reasonable solution to their current situation.

  Only one question remained. One that made her hold her breath as she asked it. “This marriage of convenience? What exactly would it look like?”

  A confused look from Nikolai.

  And she tried again. “Like what would you expect of me other than providing Pavel and this baby with a loving upbringing?”

  His eyes flared, a certain heat appearing in their green depths without warning. “I want you as real wife in my bed,” he answered, bald and to the point. “If this is your question, that is my answer.”

  Sam’s throat went dry at the thought of sharing Nikolai’s bed, not just for a night, but into the foreseeable future. She stirred down below, her breasts going impossibly heavy as her traitorous body became aroused at the thought of occupying the bed of a man who was basically blackmailing her into marriage.

  “And what if I don’t want to be with you that way?” she managed to push out past the dry desert her throat had become.

  He leveled her with a piercing stare and asked, “You do not want me that way? As husband in our bed?”

  “No.” She forced the lie through her lips as quickly as possible. Because even if it wasn’t the truth, it should have been, and it would be—as soon as she got her treasonous body on board.

  His eyes shuttered. “If you don’t want me, fine. We will sleep in same room, like husband and wife. But I will not touch you, unless you want me to…”

  Sam clenched down below at the thought of his hands on her in an intimate way again. And she couldn’t help but think of the way he’d driven himself into her their one fateful time, making her explode with pleasure.

  “…I can be gentleman,” he finished, bringing her back to the here and now. Where she’d just finished throwing up and shouldn’t even be thinking about sex with a man who was asking her to pledge her life to him, to sleep in the same room with him, not because he had feelings for her, but because he wanted a certain kind of set up for their unborn child and his current ward.

  “Do you feel better?” he asked her.

  She blinked, “What?”

  He nodded towards the hand towel still resting on the back of her neck. “Are you sick still?”

  “No,” she answered. Actually her nausea had completely disappeared. “I feel fine now.”

  He nodded as if her stomach had simply obeyed one of his commands. “You will take day off. Rest,” he instructed.

  But she shook her head. “No, we’re expecting a big shipment and we’re at capacity right now, so I want to make sure it all gets put away so we have everything we need when we need it. And our security guard gave me his two-weeks notice a few days ago, so I have to start actively looking for a replacement.”

  She waited for him to tell her she couldn’t go to work. She found herself wanting an excuse to go back to actively disliking him. Something clear she could grasp onto like a controlling behavior or some sign that he’d become emotionally or physically abusive in the long run.

  But instead he once again averted his eyes, before asking, “You really don’t want me?” The question was quiet… embarrassed.

  And the vulnerable note in his voice sent her head into a complete spin. Her common sense and her gut warring over every psychological detail of her true heart’s answer. In the end, she opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  And apparently that was answer enough.

  He stood in one abrupt movement and said, “I go on road tomorrow. You will give me your answer by time I get back Sunday night.”

  Then he walked out, leaving her behind, stunned and still unable to answer his question. Even in her own mind.

  25

  “YOU did WHAT?!?!”

  Sam winced. She wondered if this was going to be a trend on phone calls with Josie from now on. Her casually dropping a bomb. Josie screaming at her to r
epeat herself.

  “I decided to marry the hockey player.”

  “The one who doesn’t believe in love?”

  “Yeah, that one…” Sam said.

  “I’m assuming you have a good reason for this sudden decision.”

  “Several actually,” Sam answered. “Pavel, and… well, um… I’m pregnant with his baby.”

  This time Sam made a pre-emptive move to protect her left eardrum, holding the phone as far away as she could. But that still didn’t mute Josie’s, “WHAT!?!?”

  Sam explained to her best friend the way she’d been explaining it to herself over the past week, using phrases like “best thing for the baby” and “best thing for Pavel.” She even threw Back Up into the sales pitch, explaining how happy she’d been having acres and acres of backyard to run around—and perhaps, more importantly, another person to give her belly rubs.

  Despite her marketing efforts, Josie still didn’t sound convinced when she was done. “This all sounds great for Pavel, Back Up, and the baby. But what about you?” Josie asked. “How about what’s best for you?”

  “I’m getting Pavel and a baby,” Sam answered. “I couldn’t be happier about that. Josie wait ‘til you meet Pavel! He’s so wonderful. You’ll understand why I’d do anything to stay with him.”

  “Anything, including marrying a guy you don’t love?”

  “Not everyone can have what you and Beau have. You and Beau barely managed to have what you have,” Sam reminded her friend, referring to their tumultuous courtship with dark tones.

  “Yeah, but…” Josie let out a sad sigh. “You’re so great, Sam. And you’re always putting others before yourself. I just want to make sure this isn’t you sacrificing what’s good for you for what’s good for everyone else.”

  “Trust me, I’m not sacrificing myself,” Sam said. “Considering the circumstances, this seriously is the best solution I could hope for.”

  “If you say so,” Josie answered, not bothering to hide her skepticism. “I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

  “I’m great, Josie,” Sam assured her. “Better than I have ever been. I promise.”

  Which was true, she told herself. She had Pavel and a baby on the way, and even if that meant marrying a detached, uncommunicative Russian, it was still more of a family than she’d ever been blessed with before Nikolai Rustanov barged into her life.

  It was enough, she told herself, just as she’d been telling herself for the past week.

  It had to be.

  “Okay, then, I’m going to choose to believe you,” Josie said. “I’m happy for you, Sam. I truly am.”

  “Thanks, Josie,” Sam said softly. She didn’t realize how much she’d needed her best friend to accept the situation until a tide of relief rolled over her. Her shoulders relaxed, and she finally allowed herself to breathe easy again.

  But then Josie asked, “So when’s the wedding? I’m too far along to fly to Indiana, but maybe our home aide can drive Beau and me up there for the big day.”

  A huge wave of guilt rolled over Sam, and she found herself wincing again as she glanced down at the white petal shift dress she was wearing.

  * * *

  Less than an hour after her phone call with Josie, and two Sundays after receiving the least romantic proposal ever, Sam married Nikolai Rustanov.

  She walked into Nikolai’s office, Pavel on one side of her and Back Up on the other. She repeated the necessary words to the justice of the peace Isaac had found to officiate their wedding. She signed the license afterwards, along with Nikolai, the JOP, and Isaac, who—as far as she could tell—had only been invited because he’d arranged everything, including the dinner the five of them shared afterwards.

  And what a jovial affair that was. Sam in a state of shock, hardly able to believe she’d gone through with this. Pavel watching her with solemn eyes, as if he suspected she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Back Up whimpering at Nikolai’s knee, having decided to choose the absolute worst person in perhaps the entire world to beg from for scraps of dinner.

  Read the room, Back Up, she thought at her clueless bullie. Read the room.

  Nikolai regarded Back Up with hard eyes and pointed to a corner at the far side of the room. With one last sad whine, Back Up left, her disappointed head hanging before she flopped dejectedly in the corner.

  Pavel started to get up and go to Back Up with a bite of his uneaten steak, but his uncle stopped him with, “You will not feed dog, Pavel. She will eat food Anna put in kitchen for her.”

  Pavel opened his mouth to argue.

  But Nikolai gave him a look, much the same as the one he’d given Back Up, and Pavel wasn’t a fool. He kept his mouth closed and slumped down in his chair.

  And then there were two disappointed beings in the room as both Pavel and Back Up sulked under separate dark clouds.

  Sam didn’t blame the judge for suddenly remembering an appointment and excusing himself from the awkward gathering twenty minutes into the meal. Isaac was the next to go, claiming he had just begun training for the Indianapolis marathon and wanted to get up early the next morning for a long run. Sam had to admit she was jealous as she watched Nikolai’s assistant go. She wished she could run away from the dinner, too. The dining room was an intimidating mix of crimson damask, oriental carpets, heavy dark furniture, paintings that took up entire walls, and gold-plated everything else. She missed the relative coziness of the state-of-art kitchen and felt uncomfortable in such ostentatious surroundings.

  But at least Pavel and Back Up stayed loyal. Unlike the judge and Isaac, neither of them left the dining room until dinner was over and Sam insisted a yawning Pavel go to bed.

  And then came a heartwarming moment when Pavel hugged her and said, “We’re a real family now. I’m glad you can be with me forever, Mama.”

  “Me too,” Sam said, hugging him back. Totally worth it, she thought in that moment.

  After they finished hugging, Pavel turned to Nikolai. “Congratulations, Uncle,” he said with a stiff nod.

  “Thank you,” Nikolai answered, just as stiffly. He glanced at Pavel and then quickly looked away as if the sight of the boy hurt him somehow.

  Perhaps picking up on that, Pavel didn’t linger. He called to Back Up and they were gone a few seconds later.

  Sam hadn’t had the energy or the heart to keep up the pretense after that, saying, “Well, I’m super tired. I think I’ll be retiring now.”

  He gave her a short nod in that dismissive way of his which grated on her. And she left the room. It was one thing to get dismissed like that when she was basically a squatter, living under his roof for Pavel’s sake, but she was his wife now.

  His fake wife, she reminded herself as she climbed up the stairs to the sanctuary of her room. Their marriage license was only a piece of paper meant to seal a deal. There was no reason to expect him to change his ways just because they’d undergone a Facebook status update. She thought of the talk she gave women who weren’t married to their abusive boyfriends. Her “marriage-won’t-change-him-he’ll-basically-always-be-an-abuser-unless-he-gets-serious-help” talk.

  Nikolai Rustanov wasn’t abusive, but he’d never change. He’d never magically one day stop being dismissive or autocratic or… the thought blew through her mind like a sad wind… someone capable of loving her the way Beau loved Josie.

  She thought of her earlier phone call with her best friend. No, not everyone could have what Josie had with her husband, Beau: mutual understanding and a deep and abiding love after overcoming their demons. Some people—people like Nikolai and her—had to do the best they could with the demons still riding on their backs.

  She divested herself of the evidence of their sham marriage as soon as the small bedroom door closed behind her. Balling up the dress, which she already knew she’d never wear again, and throwing it in the corner.

  Now all she had to do was change into her pajamas and hide out in her room for an hour or so until she was sure Nikola
i had gone to bed. Then she’d sneak downstairs and unwind with a few episodes of Veronica Mars in Nikolai’s entertainment room, which was another perk she could add to agreeing to this marriage of convenience. His state-of-the-art entertainment room had a 72-inch OLED television and barcolounger stadium seats. There was even a fireplace, and she could already see herself making the room nice and toasty while she binged on Veronica Mars. Tonight she didn’t want to think about anything but clever girl detectives who always managed to get themselves and their loved ones out of bad situations. That and a glass of wine would be exactly what the doctor ordered… if only she could drink.

  Sighing, Sam went over to the ludicrous ivory white dresser where she kept her simple clothes, including the IU sweats she’d been wearing as pajamas. Truth was, she’d never been much of a drinker (nothing like seeing how much alcohol could fuel physically abusive marriages to turn you off the stuff), but she did like a glass of wine after a long day. And this had been a very, very long day, she admitted to herself as she opened the bottom right drawer—

  Only to find it empty. She looked at the vacant space for a confused, shocked moment. Then with an ominous feeling of dread, she pulled open the drawer beside it, the one that had been filled with her sweaters. That one was empty, too, as were all the drawers in the ridiculous piece of furniture. And as was the walk-in closet—even the shoes she kept lined up underneath her bed for easy access were no longer there.

  “What the…” she said out loud.

  * * *

  Nikolai answered her knock on his door with an expression she would describe as amused, verging on smug. As if he’d been expecting her. Probably because he had.

  The jerk, she thought, as she opened her mouth to demand answers. But the angry words got clogged in her throat when she saw he only had on a pair of boxer briefs. And though she was pissed—really pissed—it was impossible not to admire his strong shoulders and large biceps, the muscles that rippled down his torso, before stopping right above his—

 

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