Page 37 of His Ruthless Vow

"What'd he say?" she asks. She's so beautiful like this. Kiss-swollen lips and flushed face. I can't help leaning in to kiss her again.

"He said we have to go. This safe house isn't safe. Let's get out of here. I'll get us someplace safe." I stand, already hating this new life of being on the run. But I'd rather be on the run with Alana than alone. And now my job is to do what no man before me has ever done.

She's mine. I've claimed her. And I’ll protect her.

24

ALANA

Iwake to the smell of bacon and eggs cooking in the kitchen and roll out of bed still half-asleep. I promised Dimitri I would make breakfast this morning after he worked so late last night, and I've slept through my alarm. I'm upset with myself. It's been a month and "Sera Volsky" hasn't found a new job yet.

This assumed identity is hard to truly assume when I live my life behind closed doors as Alana Volskaya, the twenty-something runaway hiding from her crime family. Dimitri might be suited to this sort of thing, but I’m having a hard time adjusting, even a month later. I miss Natalia and I feel really homesick.

But nothing compares to the pain I see in Dimitri's eyes when he gets really upset. I know he's struggling with things more than me. He didn't just leave Moscow—he gave up his entire inheritance and cut all ties with his family. If I needed to, I could call Natalia and find a way home, but our scheming got him totally disinherited.

I struggle into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, then shuffle into the kitchen where breakfast is ready, but there's only one helping—for him. He looks up at me with a scowl on his face and I already know he hasn't slept well.

The morning sickness hasn't been nearly as bad lately, though the idea of eating greasy food this time of day has never sat right with me. I'm not upset that I don't have food, but I'm a little disappointed by that selfish act. Maybe I deserve it, but I'm trying too. He's not the only one working around here.

"I'm sorry," I tell him, moving toward the fridge to get him a glass of orange juice to go with his food.

"Yeah, well." The attitude is sharp this morning and I don't know what I've done. I fill a glass and turn as he sits at the table and place it in front of him.

"You have to work today?" I ask, folding my arms as I hover beside him. He barely looks up at me.

Somehow, I thought running off into the sunset with the man I love would be a much happier event. What it's turned into is two people barely surviving when we're used to living in luxury and taking what we want. I have enough in my savings to make this more comfortable, but Dimitri insists we have to save it. It's been moved to new untouchable accounts in our fake names, but I'm still not even allowed to buy a new pair of shoes for myself.

I think he wouldn’t stop me, but he wouldn’t be happy. And I want to make him happy. I just seem to be failing at it. He was able to get a job immediately, working for a consulting firm to grow businesses. I, however, haven't been able to find anything. And during one of my interviews that was promising, I threw up and let it slip that I'm pregnant and they sent me home right then. No one wants to hire a pregnant woman. Too much risk.

"Yeah, nine hours." He stabs his bacon and shoves it in his mouth, then chews with his mouth open before slurping some juice without even thanking me.

I'm lightheaded, didn’t sleep well, and I don’t appreciate his attitude. I love him, but he's just grumpy all the time. This morning seems to be worse than normal.

"I'm sorry if I said or did something wrong. I haven't been feeling well, and I overslept. Please forgive me." I'm trying to be patient with him because honestly, men in the world we grew up in don't typically deal with feelings well at all. They bottle them up or explode. There's no in between. And I want this to work. For the baby's sake.

I've been trying to find a way to tell him, but there's never a good time. He's always talking about how we spend the money we have, where we live, and what's safe or not safe. It doesn't feel like he's prepared for this responsibility, or that maybe he is, but he'll take it way too seriously. We're safe, over four hundred miles from the war that rages in our wake. He doesn't need this level of hypervigilance.

"Yeah, well sorry doesn’t get me breakfast."

I scoff and take a step back, feeling hurt. "I said I’m sorry, Dimitri. I've been feeling unwell. I am trying here."

He stabs more bacon with his fork, and I feel dizzy and sway. My hand reaches out for the back of the chair as I feel a hot flush rush up my chest into my neck and face, and suddenly, the world is black and I'm falling. Dimitri grabs my hand, and I don't actually pass out, but I do fall right into his arms.

"Hey, whoa!" he says, catching me and pulling me onto his lap. His breakfast is forgotten, and so is the reason for his anger with me as he sits me snugly across his knees and pushes the hair out of my eyes. "What's going on? What are you feeling?"

I shake my head, tears welling up as I press both palms to my face. This isn’t how I wanted to tell him, but I know why I'm not feeling well. I need vitamins and I need more rest. I'm growing a tiny human in my womb. That takes a lot of energy and rest for the female body.

"I don't know," I cry. "I was feeling dizzy and everything went black."

"Shh, God, I'm sorry, Alana." His arms wrap around me and it feels suffocating. It's like I’m not getting enough oxygen right now. Maybe I’m dehydrated or maybe my blood pressure is low. I don’t know.

"I don't feel well," tell him again, and this time, he scowls and shakes his head.

"We need to get you to a doctor, okay? It could be serious."

"No, I'm okay. I promise." The doctor is actually what I need, but this isn't an emergency.

"Then what? What am I supposed to do, just watch you pass out and hit your head?" He's having a difficult time knowing the right thing to do and it's my fault. If I had just told him over a month ago when I found out I'm having his baby, he'd know exactly what to do.