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"He was supposed to be a wedding present. Don’t get any ideas. This dog is going to grow up to be the most vicious dog you've ever met."
“Sure,” Isabella says, placing a large bag down by the bed. "I’ll believe it when I see it." She hands me the bag of clothes. “Here. These are for you. I don’t wear them anymore. They should fit you, but may be a bit… tight,” she says, her tone cold and emotionless.
Oh, the bitch, making an inside dig at my weight. I’m curvier than she is, and she can fuck right off. I want to throw the bag of clothes right back at her. I don't want her fucking hand-me-downs, but most of all, I don't want her disdain. I want to shakeher. I'm not a betrayer. I'm not who they think I am. But time will prove this to be true. I have to remember that.
When she places her hand on her abdomen and her face contorts in pain, I forget why I’m mad at her. My heart rate spikes. Lev is beside her instantly, his hand on her back, his other hand on her shoulder.
"What's the matter?" Ollie says.
"Just a contraction," Isabella says. "Whatever. It happens sometimes to women."
“You’ve got months left,” he says, frowning.
“Right. It doesn’t mean labor; it just happens, alright?”
"Make sure you're properly hydrated," I say to her. "Braxton Hicks can happen because of dehydration, especially this early in your pregnancy. How far along are you, anyway?" Where the hell did that come from? I'm not in the business of giving a shit about her right now.
She spins around on her heel. "I’m not taking advice from you. Get the hell out of bed and get dressed. We have a wedding to plan," she says. “And since when are you some expert on pregnancy and babies?"
"Maybe when you were traveling the world and sweet-talking your way into the good graces of the Romanovs, I was learning midwifery. But you wouldn't know that, would you?" I grit my teeth. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Isabella.”
It isn't quite fair. I didn't tell Isabella because she had big plans to overthrow her brother. She wanted to make herself the leader of her family’s cartel, and she fucking did it.
I might be a little salty because of the way she's treated me. But, I thought out of everyone here… at least she would know I was telling the truth. I never dreamed she’d believe the lies about me. If your best friend doesn't believe that you're telling the truth, how is someone who is your enemy supposed to?
"What she's saying makes sense, Isabella," Lev says. "You know you don't drink enough water when you travel. Let's go get you some, and then I want you to rest."
Isabella glares at me, but there's a look in her eyes I've seen before. She's hurt. I look away from her, not wanting to meet her gaze.
That makes two of us.
When the door shuts behind them, I turn to Ollie. "Do me a favor and don't open that door again until I actually have some clothes on."
The little fur-ball in my lap sniffs and acts as if he’s going to pee. Oh God. Ollie swears and grabs at him, but he wriggles out of his grasp and promptly pees on the floor.
I cover my mouth with my hand to stifle a laugh, and he narrows his eyes at me. I bite my cheek, so I don’t laugh out loud.
"Jesus," Ollie says, swearing again under his breath in Russian and advancing on him. He looks murderous.
“Leave him alone!” I leap from the bed and put myself between the two of them. “He’s only a baby and has to learn!”
He picks me up bodily and plunks me down behind him, and in two huge strides, reaches the puppy. He picks him up in one hand and holds him up to his nose. “Neyt. Do not do that again. Let’s go. You will learn to gooutside.”He opens the door andorders over his shoulder, “Look through the clothing and lay it all on the bed. I’ll tell you what to wear.” I open my mouth to respond when the door slams shut behind them.
Why do I fall for the overbearing sort?
I shrug. Maybe he’ll make a good father. He can be stern but protective, and—no!Oh my God. I can’t start thinking like that. Not yet. He could get in a wild rage and drown the little pup, for all I know.
Ollie Romanov is not a good man.
If I were a betting woman, I’d bet good money that this little puppy is going to have him wrapped around his little finger in no time.
If only I could find a way to wrap Ollie around my finger as easily as that puppy will.
With a sigh, I open the bag and rifle through the clothing.
I’ll tell you what to wear?
I wonder if this is a battle I should fight. I can't let every breath out of my mouth and every conversation between the two of us be a fight, so I figure now is probably as good a time as any to actually go along with him. If I’m honest… if I liked him, I would think it was kind of hot that he wanted to pick out what I was going to wear.
