Page 46 of Marrying the Silver Fox

Our relationship confuses me on such a profound level, I hardly know where to start with it. Does he really care for me, or is all of this just a game he’s playing where I’m just some unknowing pawn? He has already shown himself willing to force my hand to get what he wants, and while I can only hope that he has somewhat changed his mind on that matter since we’ve grown closer, there’s no way to tell for sure.

Especially since I’m the one who walked out of that house.

Fuck, if I could turn back time, I would stay there, tucked up in that bed, pretending that the outside world didn’t exist. And I would make sure that I kept my baby and myself safe, in any way I could. Even if that place was suffocating, at least I would know for sure that nothing would happen to us. At least I knew that we would be safe.

I can’t stop thinking about what Nikolai makes of all of this. He must know by now, that I got out of that house and am long gone. Did he see me being snatched up, or does he just think I grew tired of it and moved on of my own accord?

As much as things have been tough between us, as much as I have felt suffocated in that place, I would never have turned around and left him behind. Not without at least trying to work things out. Not with the child now in the equation between us.

God knows that nothing about the way we came together has been conventional, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t do everything in my power to make certain Nikolai has a chance to know his child. What kind of person would I be, if I forced him out of his own infant’s life? No matter what kind of person he is, he deserves a chance to know his child, at the very least, no matter how difficult it is, no matter how crazy things get.

I press the heels of my hands into my face, drawing in a long, deep breath and trying to calm myself. I wait for the tears to fall, but none do. I’m too exhausted for that. Too dehydrated. I just pray that this stress and pain is not reaching the baby.

I’m sorry, little one, I really am. I’ve been talking to them a lot, as much as I know they can’t hear me, couldn’t understand me even if they did. I just need to know that they’re there.

For now, at least.

Suddenly, my ears prick as a strange sound emerges from the other side of the door. I drag myself to my feet once more and press my ear to the wood, straining to make out what’s on the other side. I frown—at first, I can’t hear much at all, maybe a few footsteps, some brief movement. And then⁠—

And then there comes a crash so deafening that I fall back from the door in shock. Voices overlap each other. One Max, one⁠—

No. It can’t be. Can it…?

“Nikolai!” I scream out, flattening my palms and banging them against the door.

Is it him? Really him? I can hardly let myself believe it, but if it is, this is as close as I’m going to come to him, maybe ever again in my life. I have to do everything I can to try and attract his attention. A glimmer of hope, the first that I’ve felt in a long time, rushes through my system, and I force another cry out from my aching, shredded throat.

A commotion is taking place outside the bedroom, and I wish more than anything that I could see what’s going on out there.

Is he okay? Is he going to be alright? Is Max prepared for him, ready to take on any kind of attack, or is he so overwhelmed with getting me and the child back that he has let himself become sloppy?

Someone slams into the door and it buckles in the frame. I hear the clatter of something hitting the floor, and then the sickening thud of fists beating down on flesh. I try to call out Nikolai’s name again, but the words falter on my tongue, and all I can do is pray and pray and pray that he’s the one delivering the blows, not taking them…

Finally, I hear him speak to me.

“Andie!”

“Nikolai, I’m in here!” I tell him urgently. “I—Max has the key⁠—”

“Stand back,” he orders me, and I leap back from the door, biting down hard on my lip as I wait for him to do what needs to be done. And he makes no effort to hold back, slamming what sounds like his entire body into the door over and over again. It buckles, cracks, groans, but holds—until finally, with an enormous splintering sound, it tears off the hinges and falls inward.

“Andie,” Nikolai growls, and he practically lunges toward me, wrapping me in his arms and pulling me against him tightly.

I clutch his shirt, hardly able to believe this is happening, breathing in the scent of him like it’s the only thing that matters. He’s here. He is really, actually here. I dig my nails into his shoulders, clinging to him so tight it feels like we will never be pulled apart again.

This man, my savior, the father of my child—the one who has come for me and found me against all the odds. I don’t know if anyone has ever gone this far before to prove themselves to me, and I am beyond grateful, grateful in a way I doubt I’ll ever be able to express.

And then he pulls back and holds my face in his hands, studying me as though determined to make sense of the state I’m in. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I whisper. “I—I need to eat and drink, but other than that…he didn’t hurt me.”

His eyes darken, and he looks back over his shoulder. I sneak a glimpse behind him and see Max slumped against the far wall, blood leaking from his lip, out for the count.

Nikolai moves to block the sight from my view. “He came at me with a knife,” he explains. “I had to deal with him⁠—”

“Is he dead?” I ask. I hardly dare to whisper the words, the thought of what they might mean almost more than I can take.

He shakes his head. “Not yet,” he replies darkly. “But he will be.”