A couple of days later, I’m sitting cross-legged on my bed, phone pressed to my ear as Jessie’s familiar voice fills the space around me. For the first time since arriving at the estate, I feel something close to normal.
“So, let me get this straight,” Jessie says, and I can picture her pacing around her temporary apartment the way she always does when she’s processing something complicated. “You and the scary Russian mob boss are going to co-parent your baby like a divorced couple from suburbia?”
I wince at her blunt assessment, even though it’s not entirely inaccurate. “We’re going to try to raise this child together without drama. Civilly.”
“Civilly,” she repeats, and I can hear the skepticism in her voice even through the phone. “Brina, this isn’t a normal man we’re talking about. You know that, right?”
“I know he’s dangerous.” The admission comes easier now than it would have a week ago. “He’s also the father of my child, and he’s been nothing but protective of both of us.”
“Protective, yes, but intentions don’t cancel out consequences.” Jessie’s voice softens, losing some of its edge. “I believe he means well, I really do, but meaning well doesn’t change the fact his world could get you hurt.”
I pull my knees up to my chest, careful not to put pressure on my belly, and consider her words. She’s not wrong. The past week has given me glimpses of just how different Nikandr’s life is from anything I’ve ever known. It’s clear in the way staff members defer to him with a mixture of respect and fear, the constant presence of armed security, and the phone calls conducted in languages I don’t understand, discussing things I’m probably better off not knowing about.
“It’s not just about surviving,” I say quietly. “It’s about raising a child in a world where loyalty is paid in blood. Where showing weakness can get you killed. Where the wrong choice doesn’t just affect you, it affects everyone you care about.”
She gasps softly. “You think you can handle that?”
I hesitate to answer. Can I handle raising a child in Nikandr’s world? Can I teach them to be good and kind and compassionate while also teaching them the survival skills they’ll need in a life where violence is always a possibility? “I don’t know, but I have to try. This baby didn’t ask to be born into this situation, but they’re going to be. The least I can do is make sure they have two parents who can work together instead of tearing each other apart.”
Jessie is quiet for a moment, and when she speaks again, her voice is gentler. “You care about him.”
It’s not a question, and I don’t try to deny it. “Yes.”
“How much?”
I think about the past few nights, about the way Nikandr holds me when the nightmares came, the careful tenderness in his touch, and the way he listens when I talk about my fears for our child. I think about the way my chest tightens when he’s gone for too long, and the relief that floods through me when he returns safely. “More than I should,” I whisper.
Jessie sounds gentle when she asks, “And how does he feel about you?”
That’s the question I’ve been avoiding, even in my own thoughts, because I don’t know. He wants me, that much is obvious. He’s protective of me and the baby but want and protection aren’t the same thing as love, and I’m not naive enough to think they are. “He cares about the baby, and I think he feels responsible for me because of that.”
“But?”
“I don’t know if he sees me as anything more than the woman carrying his child.” The words hurt to say out loud, but they need to be said. “Still, maybe that’s enough. Maybe it has to be.”
Jessie makes a sound of frustration. “Sabrina, you deserve more than being someone’s obligation.”
“Do I?” The question comes out sharper than I intended. “I’m pregnant with a man’s child after spending four days with him. I work at a nightclub and live in a studio apartment with furniture from yard sales. Six months ago, I was drowning in medical debt and working two jobs just to keep the lights on. What exactly do I deserve?”
She still sounds stern but tender. “You deserve to be loved for who you are, not just for what you can give someone else.”
Her words make tears prick at the corners of my eyes. “Maybe love is a luxury I can’t afford right now.”
“Love isn’t a luxury, Brina. It’s a necessity, especially when you’re bringing a child into the world.”
We’re both quiet for a moment. Jessie sighs, and when she speaks again, there’s a strange mixture of resignation and hope in her voice. “I can hear it, you know. When you talk about him.”
“Hear what?”
“The way your voice changes. Gets softer. Like maybe you’re falling for him despite all the very good reasons you shouldn’t be.”
I want to deny it, but the words stick in my throat because she’s right. There is something blooming to life when I think about Nikandr, something warm and dangerous and completely terrifying. Hope, maybe. Or the beginning of something that could turn into love if I’m not careful.
“I don’t trust it,” I say honestly. “The feelings, I mean. How can I know if what I’m feeling is real, or if it’s just gratitude mixed with pregnancy hormones and the trauma of everything that’s happened?”
“You probably can’t know for sure yet, but that doesn’t mean you should ignore it entirely.”
I’m surprised by that advice. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, hold space for the possibility of something good. Of peace, happiness, and love, but never stop protecting yourself.” Her voice takes on the fierce protectiveness I’ve known since we were in college. “Promise me you won’t lose yourself in this, Sabrina. Promise me you’ll remember who you are underneath all of this.”
“I promise.”
“Also promise me you’ll call if things go bad. If you need an exit strategy, if you need help, if you need anything at all, you call me. I don’t care how dangerous his world is. I’ll find a way to get to you.”
The loyalty in her voice makes my chest ache with gratitude. “I promise that too.”
After we hang up, I sit in the quiet of my room and think about everything she said about love and protection and the difference between the two. I contemplate the hope I’m trying not to feel and the fear I can’t quite ignore.
I think about Nikandr and the way he looked at me this morning when he brought me coffee in bed, like I was something precious he was afraid of breaking. He talks about our baby with a mixture of wonder and protectiveness that makes my heart skip beats.
Maybe Jessie’s right. Maybe there is something real building between us that goes beyond shared responsibility and physical attraction. Or maybe I’m just a pregnant woman clinging to romantic fantasies because the alternative—raising a child with someone who sees me as nothing more than a convenient vessel—is too depressing to contemplate.
Either way, I won’t know for sure until I stop being afraid to find out.
The next day, I work up the courage to ask Maksim about having Jessie visit for lunch. I find him in the kitchen, going over some kind of security schedule with two other men I don’t recognize. When he sees me, he dismisses them with a nod and turns his attention to me.
“What can I do for you, Miss Clyde?”
“I was hoping to have my friend Jessie over for lunch tomorrow. I know it’s probably a security risk, but—”
“Tomorrow works,” he interrupts, already pulling out his phone. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
I blink in surprise. “Just like that? No background checks or security protocols or arguments about unnecessary risks?”
Maksim looks up from his phone with something that might be amusement. “You expected more pushback?”
“Honestly? Yes.”
“Nikandr wants you to be happy here, to feel safe and at home. Having your friend visit is part of that.” He returns his attention to his phone, typing what looks like a lengthy message. “Besides, we’ve already done a thorough background check on Jessica Witman. She’s not a threat.”
The casual way he mentions the background check should probably bother me, but it doesn’t. In Nikandr’s world, paranoia isn’t a character flaw but a survival skill. “Will there be any special restrictions? Things she can’t see or places she can’t go?”
“She’ll be escorted at all times and limited to the main floor common areas. But other than that, no restrictions.”
“And Nikandr?”
He looks temporarily puzzled. “What about him?”
“Will he be joining us for lunch?”
Maksim’s expression becomes carefully neutral. “He has business to attend to tomorrow. Regarding Vadim.”
The name sends a chill down my spine, even though I don’t fully understand who Vadim is or why he’s a threat. “What kind of business?”
His tone is dismissive. “The kind you don’t need to worry about.”
It’s clearly a sensitive subject, but I press anyway. “Is he in danger?”
“Nikandr is always in some degree of danger. It’s the nature of his work.” Maksim’s tone gentles slightly. “He’s very good at what he does, and he has excellent people protecting him. He’ll be fine.”
I nod, trying to project a confidence I don’t feel. The thought of Nikandr facing some unknown threat while I sit safely in his house makes my stomach twist with anxiety, but pushing for more information won’t get me anywhere except frustrated. “Thank you for arranging the lunch.”
“You’re welcome. And Miss Clyde?” He pauses in the doorway. “Your friend is important to you, which makes her important to Nikandr. She’ll be perfectly safe here.”
The next day, watching Jessie’s reaction to the estate is almost worth the stress of being dragged into Nikandr’s mysterious world. By the time we’re settled in the sunroom with an elaborate lunch spread before us, she’s practically speechless. “Okay,” she says finally, picking at her salmon. “I get it now.”
“Get what?”
“Why you might be tempted to stick around. This place is insane. Like, movie-star-mansion insane.”
I laugh despite myself. “It’s not about the house, Jess.”
“I know, but it doesn’t hurt, right?” She takes a sip of the expensive wine Maksim selected for her since I’m sticking to sparkling water and sighs. “I still think you’re crazy, but I’m starting to understand the appeal.”
We talk for hours, catching up on everything that’s happened since I left my old life behind. She tells me about her temporary apartment, the strange men who shadow her movements but never interfere, and how surreal it feels to be living in a world where protection comes with a price tag most people can’t imagine.
“It’s like being in a movie.” She shakes her head. “Except the movie is my actual life, and I have no idea how it ends.”
I nod emphatically. “That makes two of us.”
She sets down her wine glass and studies me carefully. “Can I ask you something without you getting defensive?”
“Probably not but go ahead.” I grin.
“Do you think he loves you? Or do you think he just sees you as the mother of his child?”
The question is uncomfortable even though I’ve been asking myself the same thing for days. “I don’t know. Sometimes when he looks at me, it feels like there’s something real there. Something deeper than just obligation or responsibility.”
She cocks her head slightly. “And other times?”
I nibble on my lower lip while trying to decide how to compose my answer. “Other times, I wonder if I’m just projecting what I want to see because the alternative is too scary to think about.”
Jessie nods thoughtfully. “What scares you more? That he doesn’t love you, or that he does?”
I consider the question, surprised by how difficult it is to answer. “Both, I think. If he doesn’t love me, I’m just a convenience. Just someone to carry his child and warm his bed when he wants company. But if he does love me…”
“Then you’re falling in love with a man whose enemies would use you to destroy him.”
“Exactly, and he’d never let me go if I decide that’s what I want someday.” I take a sip of sparkling water, wishing it were something stronger. “Either way, I lose.”
She surprises me by shaking her head. “Not necessarily. Maybe there’s a third option.”
“Which is?”
“Maybe love isn’t about winning or losing. Maybe it’s about choosing to be vulnerable with someone despite the risks.” She reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “Your mom loved your dad, even knowing he might leave. She still thought it was worth it to have you.”
The comparison makes my chest tighten. “And look how that turned out.”
“She got you out of it. That wasn’t nothing, Brina. That was everything.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the gardens through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Then Jessie speaks again, her voice quieter. “Has he told you about his brother? About what happened?”
“A little. I know someone named Irina killed him, and that’s who Nikandr was looking for when he found me.”
“Maksim told me more about it on the drive here. Not details, but enough to understand why Nikandr is the way he is.” She pauses, choosing her words carefully. “He’s been alone for a long time, Sabrina. Really alone. The kind of alone that changes a person fundamentally.”
“What are you saying?”
She appears to be carefully choosing her words. “I’m saying maybe the reason he doesn’t know how to show love is because he hasn’t had anyone to love in ten years. That doesn’t mean he’s not capable of it.”
The idea hadn’t occurred to me before, but it makes a certain kind of sense. I think about the gentle way he touches me when he thinks I’m asleep, like he’s still surprised I’m real. It’s impossible not to notice the way he remembers small details about my preferences and tries to accommodate them without being asked. “You think I should give him a chance?” I’ve been fighting what I feel for him, so the idea of surrendering leaves me with conflicted emotions.
“I think you should give yourself a chance to be happy, loved, and to build something good out of this impossible situation.” Her expression grows serious. “I also think you should have an exit strategy. Just in case.”
As the afternoon wears on, I relax in a way I haven’t since arriving at the estate. Having Jessie here makes everything feel more normal and manageable. Maybe this new life doesn’t have to mean losing everything I was before.
When it’s time for her to leave, she hugs me tightly and whispers in my ear. “He makes you happy. I can see it in your face.”
I don’t disagree. “It’s complicated.”
“The best things usually are.” She pulls back to look at me seriously. “Just remember what I said about protecting yourself and call me if you need anything.”
After she’s gone, I sit alone in the sunroom and think over her words about happiness, protection, and the delicate balance between hope and self-preservation. I don’t get a sudden epiphany, but my determination to fight against what I’m feeling is fading fast.
