She nods down at the blood on my shirt. “Whose blood is that?”
I glance down and pull back my jacket, realizing that they have shot me. “Mine,” I say, swallowing hard as I press my hand to the wound. “Rubén, I need to get to the private hospital, fast.”
“Of course, sir.”
As I would expect, Eliza doesn’t look concerned she looks hopeful. Hopeful that I don’t make it and succumb to my injuries. I can’t blame her, as I’m not a likeable man. Unfortunately for her, I’m stronger than that. The injury isn’t severe and I will live, but it may put me out of action for a while.
My jaw clenches as the thought of having to slow down to heal angers me. Especially as it means I won’t be able to visit my wife in bed, and that’s the most irritating part of it all.
17
ELIZA
Budimir forces me to remain at the hospital, insisting there’s no one to take me home, and it’s what people expect of a wife to remain until he’s out of surgery.
I don’t want to be doing what is expected. All I want is to be at the house praying that this monster doesn’t pull through. The wound isn’t critical, but they have to get the bullet out. Complications can arise and I can’t even feel guilty that I hope they do in Adrik’s case.
Freedom is all I want. After everything he’s done to me, who can blame me for wanting this bastard dead? And yet I know it’s wishful thinking.
Adrik is tough and won’t be brought down by a bullet that didn’t even catch a major artery. Whoever shot him was a lousy fucking aim, but I still can’t squash that tiny glimmer of hope, not until they confirm he’s out of the woods.
“How much longer did they say it will be?” I ask, glancing at him.
His jaw clenches. “They should be out any minute now.”
I sigh heavily, sitting down next to my husband’s right-hand man. “Why couldn’t you just take me home?”
Budimir’s eyes narrow. “I know you don’t like him, but that doesn’t mean you can’t pretend to be concerned.”
I laugh. “Concerned? You expect me to act concerned about a man who forced me at gunpoint down the aisle and then shot my papá in cold-blood right in front of my eyes.” I shake my head. “You are as insane as him.”
His fists clench by his side. “You have reason, but don’t be so quick to judge him harshly.”
“I have no other way to judge him. He gives me no reason to believe there’s any good inside of him.” I look Budimir in the eye. “He’s a monster. Soulless.”
“That’s what you believe.” He stands and walks toward the secretary behind the desk, speaking to her. Clearly, his man is loyal to him, perhaps to a fault.
I tap my fingers impatiently on my knee, tiredness creeping over me. It’s ridiculous how tired I’ve been when I hardly do anything day in and day out.
A niggling doubt in the back of my mind creeps in, warning me it’s not pure tiredness and yet I want it not to be true so badly I keep pushing it from my mind. I’m almost two weeks late for my period.
Adrik hasn’t noticed yet, but it’s only a matter of time. He’s been fucking me uninterrupted for over thirty days now. The offspring of a monster is growing inside of me. I’ve considered trying to escape to go to a clinic, but he’d probably murder me if he found out. Not to mention escaping my home is far easier said than done.
There’s also this part of me that can’t imagine getting rid of a baby, even if it’s his. For a couple of years now, I’ve felt broody and wanted a baby. I’m now carrying the child of the man who murdered Papá, my baby’s grandfather.
“Mrs. Volkov?” A surgeon says, his gaze fixed on me.
I clear my throat and stand. “Yes.”
Please be bad news. Please be bad news.
“Your husband is out of theater and coming around. He asked for you.”
My shoulders slump, but it could be mistaken for relief rather than disappointment, as I stand and follow the young surgeon through the swing doors toward the private recovery rooms.
“He’s in there. I’ll leave you to it. Just know he’s bound to be groggy as the anesthetic wears off.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “If you need anything, press the call button and a nurse will come.”
“Thank you,” I reply.