look at him. That wasn’t his wife standing there, frightened and weakened. Viviana was the strongest damned woman he knew, and somehow—by him—she’d been broken.
“I didn’t do anything, Vine. I wouldn’t— couldn’t .”
But he couldn’t remember for sure.
However, in the back of his hazy memory, Anton could feel the weight of someone on his lap, and the breath spilling on his neck. Blonde and blue-eyed with a sweetened voice, the female wasn’t his wife. She didn’t feel right. Nothing about her was.
No way , Anton thought brokenly.
He just couldn’t .
“Please,” Anton begged when Viviana refused to speak. “What aren’t you saying?”
Viviana finally regarded him with shining wetness in an anguished stare. “I’m pregnant.”
Oh God, his heart stopped. Anton wanted to be happy at her confession, but the absolute pain marring her features kept him from feeling anything but a deep, settling ache. “What?”
“I was a couple of days late, so the day before yesterday I stopped at the store and got a test just out of curiosity. I wasn’t sure if it would happen so quickly like it did for Demyan when I came off the shot. I should have known better, of course it would. The home test came back positive, but I wanted to be sure so yesterday I went into the clinic. They confirmed it.”
Anton’s mouth was so dry he could barely speak. “Pregnant.”
“Yeah. And I still need you to leave, Anton. Especially now.”
***
Anton stared at the blank screen of his phone, lost and confused. The three texts he sent to his wife had all gone unanswered, although they’d all been about them, and not their son as Viviana requested. The heart inside his chest was aching and breaking in ways he couldn’t even begin to describe. It was as if someone had taken his entire soul and ripped it apart before burying it deeper than he could try to dig.
At least Viviana had allowed him to take Demyan with him for the day. His little boy was keeping him sane with mindless chatter and constant business at the club. Anton, however, was still feeling like hell, but he was doing all he could to hide it from his son.
“Did you talk to Rory about last night?”
Anton glanced up at his lawyer’s voice.
“Yeah,” he croaked out.
“And?”
Demyan, playing in the corner with Rocco and his matchbox cars, didn’t seem to be paying attention to the conversation, or his father’s broken tone. The boy had done remarkably well all morning, despite the obvious frustration and hurt between his parents.
“And nothing,” Anton answered faintly. “Said Natalie seemed like she was pulling down her dress and I was fixing up the buttons on my shirt. She made a big deal about getting out of there, and Rory said I was completely blitzed right out of it, but—”
“That sounds bad, man.”
Yeah, Anton was aware. “Shit, Ivan, I can’t even remember. I don’t think I can count the amount of times I’ve drank enough to black out on one hand, and the hangover I’ve got is fucking ridiculous.”
“I don’t think you drank a heck of a lot, but you were slamming back on the bourbon pretty fast,” Ivan noted. “Maybe more than we thought. It happens.”
“Not to me,” Anton insisted. “My drinks have always been watered down, especially when I have Bratva in this club.”
“It’s not like you, I agree.” The lawyer nodded, shooting a look at the little boy in the corner. “Where are you going to stay?”
“Here for a while. I can go home for whatever I need, so I might as well.”
“And what about you-know-who?” Ivan asked with a cant of his head towards Demyan.
“Keep him with me when I can. Make sure he sees me around enough to know I didn’t leave. There’s not much else I can do.”
“Kids blame themselves for shit like this, Anton.”
But not his boy. Anton wouldn’t allow that.
“We’ll figure it out,” Anton muttered. “Somehow. Right now he doesn’t know the difference. Surely we can
“I didn’t do anything, Vine. I wouldn’t— couldn’t .”
But he couldn’t remember for sure.
However, in the back of his hazy memory, Anton could feel the weight of someone on his lap, and the breath spilling on his neck. Blonde and blue-eyed with a sweetened voice, the female wasn’t his wife. She didn’t feel right. Nothing about her was.
No way , Anton thought brokenly.
He just couldn’t .
“Please,” Anton begged when Viviana refused to speak. “What aren’t you saying?”
Viviana finally regarded him with shining wetness in an anguished stare. “I’m pregnant.”
Oh God, his heart stopped. Anton wanted to be happy at her confession, but the absolute pain marring her features kept him from feeling anything but a deep, settling ache. “What?”
“I was a couple of days late, so the day before yesterday I stopped at the store and got a test just out of curiosity. I wasn’t sure if it would happen so quickly like it did for Demyan when I came off the shot. I should have known better, of course it would. The home test came back positive, but I wanted to be sure so yesterday I went into the clinic. They confirmed it.”
Anton’s mouth was so dry he could barely speak. “Pregnant.”
“Yeah. And I still need you to leave, Anton. Especially now.”
***
Anton stared at the blank screen of his phone, lost and confused. The three texts he sent to his wife had all gone unanswered, although they’d all been about them, and not their son as Viviana requested. The heart inside his chest was aching and breaking in ways he couldn’t even begin to describe. It was as if someone had taken his entire soul and ripped it apart before burying it deeper than he could try to dig.
At least Viviana had allowed him to take Demyan with him for the day. His little boy was keeping him sane with mindless chatter and constant business at the club. Anton, however, was still feeling like hell, but he was doing all he could to hide it from his son.
“Did you talk to Rory about last night?”
Anton glanced up at his lawyer’s voice.
“Yeah,” he croaked out.
“And?”
Demyan, playing in the corner with Rocco and his matchbox cars, didn’t seem to be paying attention to the conversation, or his father’s broken tone. The boy had done remarkably well all morning, despite the obvious frustration and hurt between his parents.
“And nothing,” Anton answered faintly. “Said Natalie seemed like she was pulling down her dress and I was fixing up the buttons on my shirt. She made a big deal about getting out of there, and Rory said I was completely blitzed right out of it, but—”
“That sounds bad, man.”
Yeah, Anton was aware. “Shit, Ivan, I can’t even remember. I don’t think I can count the amount of times I’ve drank enough to black out on one hand, and the hangover I’ve got is fucking ridiculous.”
“I don’t think you drank a heck of a lot, but you were slamming back on the bourbon pretty fast,” Ivan noted. “Maybe more than we thought. It happens.”
“Not to me,” Anton insisted. “My drinks have always been watered down, especially when I have Bratva in this club.”
“It’s not like you, I agree.” The lawyer nodded, shooting a look at the little boy in the corner. “Where are you going to stay?”
“Here for a while. I can go home for whatever I need, so I might as well.”
“And what about you-know-who?” Ivan asked with a cant of his head towards Demyan.
“Keep him with me when I can. Make sure he sees me around enough to know I didn’t leave. There’s not much else I can do.”
“Kids blame themselves for shit like this, Anton.”
But not his boy. Anton wouldn’t allow that.
“We’ll figure it out,” Anton muttered. “Somehow. Right now he doesn’t know the difference. Surely we can
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