Preg-Not part 22

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Once the room was submerged in silence, Raelynn observed the space. It was a bachelor’s cave. Boring navy blues draped over the windows and bed, the closet was full of black and grey suits, a huge television hung across the bed, and not a single family portrait was in sight.

There were no hints of women in the place, either. There was one toothbrush in the bathroom.

When she found a notebook, she flipped to the very last page and began scribbling. This time, instead of writing a cruel note that caused destruction, she wrote progress.

She made a roadmap. Once Maksim was done breathing down her neck and open to conversation, she would explain her fucked up past, the ties she knew he had to the mafia, how the toxic combination forced her out, why she wrote that letter, and why she hid the pregnancy.

Her reasons were irrational. She knew that now, and hopefully Maksim gathered enough empathy to understand that she lost the battle against her demons.

Explanations -> He understands -> He forgives -> We move on.

Then there was the alternative.

Explanations -> He hates you -> He takes the babies.

It was unlikely, or at least she hoped it was. Six months of festering in sadness had gone by, and that was enough to change a man.

She stared at the alternative. If Maksim took the twins, she would crack mentally. She didn’t own much, but she would bare teeth for the babies.

What if he took one? 

He only knew about one twin. Would it be okay to separate the twins? Was it worse to separate them, or give up on both of them altogether?

She pulled at her hair. She hated both options, but she had to choose one in case Maksim went down the path of destruction.

There was a knock at the door.

“Miss…”

Raelynn pulled the door open and stared at an older blonde woman. She was the maid Maksim had mentioned.

“Just Raelynn is okay.”

“Nice to meet you. I am Bernice. Mr. Kuznetsov has asked me to prepare a few meals for you. Do you have any allergies?”

She fidgeted. “No. I just can’t eat peanut butter.”

“Do you have any preference?”

“Not really,” she replied, tugging her t-shirt over her bump.

Was this old lady judging her because she was pregnant with no ring? Did she not care?

“I understand. Please give me half an hour to prepare some things.”

Exactly thirty minutes later, Raelynn was staring at a Thanksgiving buffet. Not wanting to be rude, she tried to eat as much as possible. As she ate, she scanned the place for a phone. She really needed to call Tiffany.

“Thank you for the food.”

Bernice frowned. “You have not finished. Mr. Kuznetsov sent me a list of dishes he wanted you to have.”

“They were delicious, but I’m full. Do you want me to help you pack these up?” she slid off her seat and pulled her shirt down.

Bernice looked uncomfortable.

“Is something wrong?”

“Mr. Kuznetsov will not be pleased that you did not finish.”

“There’s enough food here to feed the entire building. He’ll understand I couldn’t eat it all. Oh, I know.” She waddled to the door which was unlocked but guarded by two suited dudes that stood like statues. 

She was positive they were packing heat, and hopefully also hunger.

“Excuse me.”

They were enormous like Maksim, but lacked the hand and neck tattoes. One of them gave her a fleeting glance. He looked confused by her presence.

“Are you guys hungry?”

They remained stiff. Were they not allowed to talk to her? That was fine. She just wanted to pass over the food.

She walked inside and picked up an untouched plate along with two forks.

She was sure that Maksim placed fifty more goons around the building, so these two could take a five-minute break.

“It’s still warm,” she offered. “I don’t want to throw it out and be wasteful.”

They gave her a side-glance, but said nothing. She was starting to feel pretty stupid as she stood there, holding the plate.

“Please go inside, Mrs. Ketzkunov.”

Mrs– what?

The name made her jerk, and the plate fell from her hands. It shattered loud enough to make her wince.

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

Footsteps thudded as a third guard ran toward them, hand at his hip and eyes scanning for trouble.

“Miss Raelynn,” Bernice touched her arm with a trembling hand. “Please come inside.”

Raelynn threw a final “Sorry!” at the men before following Bernice. Like a child on time-out, she sat on the bed. She was alone, since Bernice left to clean up the mess she made. 

Maksim arrived four hours later. His arrival was announced by yells and curses that were loud enough to make the floor shake.

“I ought to put a fucking bullet in your skull, you son of a bitch. You were told to keep her inside. Should I have translated it to Russian? You had one fucking job.”

All this because of a broken plate? For fuck’s sake! 

Raelynn left the bedroom and walked past a trembling Bernice, who likely thought she was going to be mauled next.

“She’s fucking pregnant. I should shoot your dick off to make sure you don’t reproduce, imbecile.”

She peeked out the door and whispered, “Maksim.” 

“Did you forget who you were working for? If I find a shard of glass on her feet, I’ll slice your throat open with my bare hands.”

“Maksim,” she tried again. “Leave him be. It was my fault. Just come inside.”

As Maksim pinned the guard to a wall and spat words to his face, the other stood in place as if nothing was happening. 

Five long seconds went by, and she felt a small kick that surprised her since she had felt no movement in hours. Taking another approach, she said, “he’s kicking.”

That got his attention. Maksim looked at her, and she stepped away from the door to lure him inside. “Do you want to touch?” She kept walking backward. 

Maksim released the guy and followed her. When she sat on the edge of the bed, he kneeled and cradled her with knuckles that were still red from violence.

“привет, арахис.”

"What does that mean?"

"Hi, peanut."

Raelynn snorted. "Might want to change the nickname. He hates peanut butter."

After a minute, Maksim asked, “Why is he kicking so erratically?”

“Probably mad I haven’t played Russian music in a while.”

“Really?” he smiled and whipped out his cellphone. “What do I play?”

“Anything, honestly.”

Maksim played a song. A woman sung sweetly, but Raelynn didn’t understand the words.

Maksim lowered his head to place his forehead on the bump.

She palmed his shoulder and squeezed softly. “Please don’t hurt those guys, or fire them. I was the one who gave them a hard time.”

“Did your feet get cut from the glass?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“I still need to–” he stopped to chuckle. “He kicked my nose.”

Raelynn bit her lip. “He agrees with me. Can you please let it go?”

“Very well.”

She rubbed the bump, thanking it for its help. When she scanned Maksim, she noticed that he was stressing his expensive leather shoes in the kneeling position he was in.

“You should take your shoes off before you crease them,” she advised.

“He kicked my cheek this time,” Maksim said, completely disinterested in his shoes.

“Maksim.”

“Huh?”

“The shoes.”

“Yes. I will buy you some later.” 

His words made no sense, but he was too distracted to notice. He increased the volume of the song and chuckled when he felt another kick. He slipped a hand under her skirt to stroke the bump skin-to-skin.

She didn’t mind the contact, so she stood still as the bratva king played with fetuses and creased his expensive leather shoes.