Page 40 of Forced Bratva Hostage
I still hadn't gotten used to the perks that came with the Tarasov name. As Afan's wife, I enjoyed certain privileges: respect, honor, and protection, amongst other things. I never went anywhere without a private security detail of my own—clearly, it was a Tarasov thing. I just hadn't adjusted yet.
I rarely left the house, anyway, but I had an appointment with a doctor today, and my husband insisted that I went with a freaking squad.
“Hell, no! What am I, the queen of England?”I cackled, eyes fixed on him as my fingers deftly knotted his red tie.
“No, but you're a Tarasov,” he said, his head jerking upward as my hands worked on his neck. “And it's customary for a Tarasov wife to—”
“...move about with bodyguards for security reasons, I get it,” came my interjection, my palm brushing over the surface of his silk white shirt.
I was done knotting his tie, and he stepped back, looking in the mirror as if examining my work. “Hmm.” He pursed his lips. “You did better today.” His tone was laced with sincerity and a glimmer of pride.
“Thank you, but don't change the subject,” I replied quickly, more concerned about the matter at hand than his praise.
His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he picked up his coat from the bed. “It’s just a security detail, Wren.” He slipped into it, his lips curling into a smirk.
“And it's just a doctor's appointment,” I insisted, arms across my chest.
He paused, heaving a sigh, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “You won’t stop bugging me, will you?”
“Uh-uh.” I shook my head. “Just ask one of them to go with me. One is enough.”
“Three,” he negotiated, eyes pinned on me.
“Three is a crowd, so, no,” I replied, a playful scowl settling on my face.
“Two, then?” He squinted, tilting his head.
I narrowed my eyes, unwilling to let him influence my decision.
“Fine,” he declared, finally giving in. “Dmitry will go with you.”
It felt good winning this argument, even though I knew he deliberately let me have this one.
Dmitry opened the door, and I stepped out, my heels clicking against the pavement. For a little while now, I'd been under the weather, hence the reason I was here for a check-up.
Dr. Lee's office was cozy, with soft beige walls adorned with calming nature prints. Across from his desk, I sat reclined comfortably on a plush armchair, fist under my chin.
The air was filled with the faint scent of lavender as Dr. Lee's blue eyes remained locked on me. I squinted, my head slightly tilting when he cleared his throat and edged closer.
He'd taken my blood samples and had run some tests; now, it was time to reveal the results.
Immediately, I started thinking the worst, considering the manner in which my mom had died. As I stared at the silent doctor, my heart raced, pounding in my heaving chest. “Dr. Lee…” I called, my tone dropping to almost a whisper. “Am I…dying?”
His brows arched, eyes widening at the gravity of assumptions. “What? No. Why would you think that?” His voice was laced with disbelief.
I drew a deep breath, releasing a heavy sigh of relief, my breathing steadying by the second. My thought of death wasn't random; clearly, the trauma of losing my mother to cancer still affected me in more ways than one.
“You're not dying, Mrs. Tarasov,” he said, his face lighting up a bit.
My God, I'm gonna have to get used to people calling me that,I thought. It sort of felt good, though.
He placed his elbows on the table and added, his voice gentle but clear, “In fact, you have life growing in you.” A smile played on his lips.
Dr. Lee's words stole my breath away, prompting my head to pull back, my brows arching ever so slightly. “I'm sorry, what?” I leaned forward, paying rapt attention. Maybe I hadn’t heard him correctly the first time.
“There's life growing in your womb, Mrs. Tarasov.” He paused, allowing the words to settle. “You're pregnant.”
Instantly, the wheels began to spin in my head, my mind reeling as his announcement hung in the air. My eyes widened, brows shooting up in stunned surprise.