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“Sit, let’s eat.” Mira gestured to Zia’s chair. “I’ll have them serve the food.”
Zia sat down while Mira left the dining room. A minute later, she returned with some of the maids, and they helped serve the food.
Zia settled for grilled chicken and spiced vegetables, taking a bite of the vegetables first before cutting from her chicken.
“So, Zia,” Mikhail started, pinning her with his gaze. “How do you feel about being married to Lev?”
Her eyes darted to Lev, who suddenly stopped eating and glared at his older brother.
“Feel free to talk. No one will hurt you here, and I’ll help you two get a divorce if you—”
“I’m not divorcing him,” Zia said quickly, her tone sharper than she’d expected it to sound. “I mean, I like being married to him.”
The table went silent.
“Are you in love with my brother?” Ivan asked, squinting at her.
Her gaze met Lev’s. He looked like he was anticipating the answer to that question like everyone else at the table, but she couldn’t answer. Not right here or right now.
“Read the room.” Adrian’s voice broke through the silence. “And mind your own business.”
Zia heaved a relieved sigh, grateful for the interruption. She brought her forkful of chicken to her mouth but gagged just as the smell wafted into her nose. A wave of nausea hit her.
She took a deep breath, hoping it would pass. The rich aroma of the meal in front of her that was once appetizing now turned her stomach. Her vision blurred slightly, and she felt a cold sweat prickling at her temples. She glanced at Lev, who was watching her as if sensing something was wrong.
She didn’t want to disturb him or cause a scene, but the nausea was becoming unbearable.
Excusing herself quietly, she pushed her chair back and stood up, the room tilting slightly as she did.
“Are you okay?” Mira asked.
“Where’s the restroom?”
“The hall to your left. Do you need something?”
Zia opened her mouth to speak, but another intense wave of nausea made her stop. She walked briskly, trying to keep her composure until she reached the doorway. Once out of sight, she broke into a run, her heels clicking frantically against the polished floors.
She barely made it to the bathroom, a luxurious space with gleaming fixtures and a large, ornate mirror. She stumbled to the sink, gripping the edges as another wave of nausea hit her. Leaning over, she vomited, her stomach heaving violently. Tears sprang to her eyes from the effort.
After a few moments, she turned on the faucet, rinsing her mouth and splashing cool water on her face. She took several deep breaths, willing herself to calm down. As she straightened up, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror—pale. Shelooked whiter than a ghost, and that was when it hit her. She’d been nauseous for a while and—fuck.
Was she pregnant?
She pulled her phone out from her purse and opened the app she used to track her menstrual cycle. She was fifteen days late. Her cycle was consistent, which meant there was a chance she was really pregnant.
Fear bled into her eyes as she glanced at herself in the mirror. She didn’t hate the idea of having a child, but it would change everything. She still had no idea how Lev really felt for her or if he really wanted a child.
A part of her wanted to be happy, but she couldn’t. Not when she wasn’t certain how being pregnant would change everything. What if he wasn’t ready? What if he didn’t love her back?
A soft knock on the door startled her. “Zia?” It was Lev’s voice, filled with concern.
“I’m okay,” she called out, her voice trembling slightly. She took one last look in the mirror, trying to compose herself before opening the door. Lev stood there, his brow furrowed with worry.
“What happened?” he asked, gently touching her arm.
“I just felt a bit sick,” she said, managing a weak smile. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”
He studied her face. “Do you want to leave?”
