Blood oozed from the small gash on Anastasia’s forehead, but she didn’t do more than wince slightly as she got to her feet. I kept my hand on her cut to stem the bleeding, and with my other hand, I helped her stand and get out of the way as men rushed down the hallway. They ran in the direction where Maxim had taken off.
Please, please be okay.
I couldn’t bear the idea of his being wounded. I didn’t wish him ill, not after all he’d done for me and how much he’d made me care for him. I was his captive, but he was something more than just my captor at this point. I’d been prepared to tell him that before that stupid alarm went off.
“You can release me,” Anastasia said. Her tone was clipped and curt, as usual. I bet she’d talk like this to whoever she was near no matter who they were. Being hurt was never fun, and it’d put anyone in a shitty disposition.
But that was also how she treated me. That lack of warmth was only more evident as I ushered her toward another room that was probably a former library with all the bookshelves that hosted décor instead.
“If I let go, it’ll bleed faster,” I replied calmly.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” she shot back.
“And I’m not offering one. It’s a fact that head wounds bleed like crazy.”
She glowered at me as I helped her into a chair, as though she hated the possibility that I could be right.
She wasn’t in any mood to ease up on the separation between us. She was in charge, as a member of this family, and I was the outsider. She had clout and mattered, and I was inferior as a “guest”.
Because I didn’t have to spend much time with her—not directly—I’d fallen into the habit of ignoring her snippy attitude with me. This was different. While I didn’t enjoy putting up with her prejudice against me and her cruel tone, I was made of tougher stuff than most others.
I could handle her.
One cranky old woman wouldn’t reduce me to tears or get under my skin.
When more men ran past, I tried to listen for what was going on out there. If someone had broken in to cause trouble, they’d be outnumbered. All those Ivanov men were armed and trained, and I knew we’d be safe with them all on the alert now.
But I only cared about Maxim returning to me, safe and sound.
“Release me,” Anastasia repeated.
“I’m not holding you in place,” I replied matter-of-factly. “I’m compressing the wound. As soon as someone else you’d approve of shows up, I’ll let them take over.”
“I won’t ever approve of you,” she replied with too much snark.
“Should I be shocked?” I quipped.
She stared up at me, her lips pressed in a thin line.
“You’ve made it clear that you don’t approve of my being here,” I said, trying hard not to sound flippant. “Yet, I’m still here.”
And will be until your grandson changes his mind. It was interesting that Maxim had power even over her. At first, when she’d made it clear that she wasn’t a fan of my living in the building, I worried that she’d convince Maxim to get rid of me. But he hadn’t, and per what he said about never letting me go, it didn’t seem like anyone would be able to make him change his mind.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” she warned coolly as I lifted my hand partly to see if the bleeding was slowing at all. It wasn’t.
“Did you black out when you were hit?” I asked instead of acknowledging what she’d said. I knew I wasn’t welcome. She didn’t need to rub in that fact. Besides, it wasn’t like I’d been invited to be here. Maxim kidnapped me and forced me to live here with him in this strange “relationship” that he wanted with me.
“Don’t change the subject,” she snapped.
“Yes. I’m aware that I shouldn’t get comfortable here. Believe me, the possibility of overstaying my welcome is on my mind.” I raised my brows at her. “It’s on my mind a lot.”
“You’re not family,” she added regally. “You’re here as a whore for him to distract himself with.”
I didn’t react, clamping my lips shut as I checked the rate of her blood loss again. She hadn’t answered me about blacking out, but I doubted she had been unconscious at all. This was how she always was. Cool and stern. True to her nature—as far as I could tell.
“You won’t last here,” she advised. “Maxim can have his fun as he sees fit but—”
A gunshot went off, and I stiffened at the loud sound. I didn’t flinch, but it was instinct to lock up. I held my breath. I didn’t apply any additional pressure to her cut.
Meeting her gaze, I saw how she’d gone still as well.
We were both tense with the lack of any other gunshots after that one.
As I waited for a clue to come to us in this small side room, I embraced the adrenaline rush of debating whether I should freeze here and hide. Run and get further away from danger. Or prepare to fight back in the name of self-defense.
I was too used to being high-strung with the need to survive. But with Anastasia wounded, it wouldn’t be a simple matter of seeing myself to safety. I’d need to watch out for this unloving and cranky old woman, too.
Men slowed to a jog outside the doorway, and a couple turned to join us. Seeing more of the suited Ivanov men calmed me. I wouldn’t have to rely on only myself to fight back, if the need arose. I wasn’t alone. Backup was available.
But before I could relax, I tried to keep my breath and voice steady as I faced them. “Is Maxim…?”
Please, no.
I couldn’t bear the thought of his being shot or wounded at all. He was too strong, too formidable, and too much of a force of power to be gone or hurt.
At the idea of his hurting, I hurt, too.
The guard shook his head. “He is fine.”
“The intruder is down,” his partner said, sounding like he was reporting to Anastasia and oblivious to my concerns that the first man noticed on my face. I was decent at masking my emotions, but that fear of Maxim being killed or hurt overrode my efforts to look cool and calm.
I let out a long breath and focused back on Anastasia. Finding her narrowing her eyes and watching me closely, I worried about what she could be thinking.
If she noticed my reaction to the gunshot like that, was she assuming I was scared for her grandson? For myself? I wouldn’t put it past her to ridicule me as not being part of her family and this world because I was too timid and easily scared by a single gunshot.
I’d had a hard life, but not that hard. Seeing Maxim kill Lenny was my first experience of such morbid violence. I had adjusted quickly, though. I was coming to terms with it all.
“You can act and look as strong and fearless as you please,” Anastasia said as I stepped back to let the soldier take over. He eased up close with a bandage to handle the compression of her wound. “But make no mistake, Miss Black. You will never have a place here with my family.”
I held my head up, refusing to acknowledge her cutting words or nasty tone.
“Are you wounded?” the other soldier asked me.
I shook my head. “No, but she was on the floor when we found her.” They had to check on her, not me.
“Do you hear me?” Anastasia asked, determined to get my acquiescence.
I looked her dead in the eye and didn’t cower one bit. Nor did I reply.
“You are not family. You are not an Ivanov.” Even though she should’ve looked vulnerable and weaker, being tended to for a cut on her head, she made sure her queenly smirk stayed in place. “You are not the kind of woman we want to contaminate our family lines. You have no pedigree. No family. No background. Nothing. You are nothing to this family.” With a disapproving glower over my skimpy, short dress that I’d chosen for a private dance and striptease for Maxim, she huffed as if the idea of my staying here and fitting in was too ridiculous to entertain at all.
“Sooner or later, Maxim will tire of you as he sees how unworthy you are among his family members who need him.”
I kept my lips shut, holding in all the comebacks I wanted to shout at her.
“You are not family, Miss Black. And no part of you ever will be.”
Is that so?
I hadn’t come here and entered her grandson’s life with any goal to become a member of the Ivanov family. But I had to imagine that many had done just that, and I disliked the concept of it.
Oh, God. Was I becoming possessive of Maxim now? My kidnapper and lover and secret baby daddy?
I watched her glare at me, keeping my thoughts to myself.
She was wrong, of course. Her predictions of how long I’d stay here were incorrect. Maxim decreed that I wouldn’t leave.
And I was family, or I was carrying one of their own.
How ironic.
I’d come so close to telling Maxim tonight. I’d finally sought the courage and prepared to share the news with him that I was already pregnant with his heir. Tonight was supposed to be the time to shed this secret that ate at me and gnawed on my nerves the longer I hid it.
And here was his grandmother, claiming the opposite, that I’d never have a bloodline tie to the Ivanovs.
I already do.
It was far past time to tell Maxim.
