Dirty Hearts: Interracial Russian Mafia Romance - Page 65

I like that one. He’s quiet and clean and knows when to leave.

“Have a good time in Paris, Kazimir.” Jean-Pierre walked away. “Just be very careful. Paris can be a violent city.”

“Not as violent as Moscow,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll leave here without a scratch.”

“That depends on how long you stay.” Jean-Pierre and his cousins left.

The door closed behind them.

Pavel asked, “What do you want me to do?”

“Put people on them.”

“Should we kill him?”

“Yes, but after we leave.”

Emily is dealing with enough. If she got wind of me killing the top members of the Corsican, she would think it was a new war and start gearing up. She’d probably hire a hundred new men.

“Do you want everyone to know that we killed Jean-Pierre and his cousins?” Pavel asked.

“No. There’s no need to make an example to the world. They already know who I am, but Jean-Pierre is sniffing around and wondering about my mouse. It won’t take long for him to have a picture with the name. I see him being even more annoying.”

“I’ll handle it after you leave.”

“Good.” I shifted back into shadowed silence, pushing the annoyance of perfumed pansies out of my head.

It was clear who had paid the driver to lift Emily’s fingerprints. He’d said they were French and Jean-Pierre barging into my steam room made him guilty by default.

My mouse is none of your concern, Jean-Pierre. And trust me, you don’t want to learn who the mouse really is.

I sank deeper within consciousness. Silence. Darkness.

I’m in control. All is safe.

But worry nagged at the back of my head.

Will the Corsican be a problem?

Chapter 16

Emily

I woke up the next day with tender breasts.

It was the oddest feeling. I’d been at the spa the day before and hadn’t done any physical activity besides madly fucking Kazimir. Still, with him, my breasts had never felt so tender.

I didn’t talk to Kazimir about it, scared he would bring up the topic of pregnancy again. Instead, I looked up the symptoms on my phone. Anxiety rose in my core as I read.

Apparently, by the time a woman was at four weeks of pregnancy, I could get a positive result on urine pregnancy test. I’d figured it would need to be longer. What did I know about any of this? My only female friend had been Kennedy and she was now dead.

I spent the rest of the morning reading up on more pregnancy facts. An egg could be fertilized in the last two weeks. Still, the dating for pregnancy began with the start of the last menstrual period.

I sighed and searched on.

If I was pregnant now, it would mean the baby was implanted into my uterine lining. I touched my stomach and wondered. The baby would be a collection of cells called a blastocyst—barely the size of a poppy seed. Even crazier, our child’s characteristics, such as eye color, hair color, sex, and more would already be determined through its chromosomes.

Could it be true? Or am I worrying for nothing?

One of the earliest physical signs was missing my period. It was due to come in two days. I tapped my fingers on the desk and stressed for several minutes before reading further.

The other signs pointed to breast tenderness. From that fact, I came close to passing out. Exhaustion and frequent urination were other signs as well as nausea and food cravings.

Later searching calmed me a little. Apparently, a lot of these symptoms in the fourth week mimicked normal premenstrual symptoms.

Maybe that’s it. I’ve been traveling a lot, eating different things. It may not be pregnancy.

Doubt still lingered. I pushed it down and focused on my new surprise for my lion. I’d loved his face during the hunt—the excitement and shrills of laughter. I’d never seen Kaz enjoy himself so much. I yearned to make him happy some more. I became addicted with it.

The lunar eclipse was this evening. Kazimir had a thing about the moon and stars. I thought it would be a great idea to have us watch the eclipse somewhere cool.

I’d tried to rent out the Paris Observatory, one of the largest astronomical centers in the world. It rested on the Left Bank of the Seine, right in the center of Paris. But the Paris Observatory’s ruling committee wouldn’t give it to me for any amount of money. Nothing could sway them. Even Pavel had stepped in with violent threats. Someone else had rented it out for a date. Apparently, another powerful person in Paris had the idea to watch the eclipse this evening.

The person must’ve been high on the food chain because the Paris Observatory’s committee was willing to take several bullets from Pavel instead of telling the other renter, no.

I didn’t give up.

I rented out the Eiffel Tower instead. What other place could do for my man? I’d spent the majority of the money Kazimir had given me, but I’d planned to return to Moscow and make my own.

Tags: Kenya Wright Romance
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