His Pregnant Christmas Bride(12)
Dr. Balducci spoke first. “Good news, Anastasia. I’m discharging you. I only ask that you resume your activities gradually and come to me when you can for a checkup. Of course, if you have any unusual symptoms, which I don’t expect in the least, contact me at once. Ivan will provide you with every method to get hold of me day or night.”
She blinked. “You mean...I—I can go?”
“Medically speaking, you’re almost as good as new.”
She hadn’t even been considering her health. It wasn’t what dictated whether she could go back.
Her gaze moved to the other juggernaut towering above her. Ivan’s face was clamped in a disturbing expression.
“Is it okay for me to leave now?” She heard her voice wavering, imploring. “For my family to know...what happened?”
His eyes glittered a deeper green as a beat passed, and felt like an eternity, before he nodded. “Yes.”
And the tears came again. As if they’d never stopped.
In her blurred gaze, she saw Dr. Balducci’s image receding, and Ivan’s hovering a breath away. But he didn’t offer any comfort, just stood there, fists at his sides.
All she wanted was to throw herself at him, seek the shelter of his infinite strength, his encompassing protection. But she held back. She couldn’t need him or lean on him any more than she already had. Ivan, from devastating experience, didn’t stick around, and this time when he eventually left, it wouldn’t be like before.
Seven years ago she’d been young and resilient. She’d suffered an indelible scar when he’d walked away, but she’d survived, even thrived. This time, in her bereft and damaged state, if her dependence deepened even more, she feared she’d be unable to recover.
Finally, feeling too wrecked to shed another tear, she slumped back in her seat limply, looking up at him. His gaze flayed her with its intensity. Yet he still said nothing.
She finally pushed to her feet. “Can I have my things back now, please?” she asked him. “I need them so I can arrange my return to New York. As for—for...”
He took an urgent step forward as she choked, and for a second, she thought he’d take her in his arms. He didn’t.
Looking as if the words were being torn out of him, he said, “Don’t worry about anything. I will deliver you—and Alex—to your family.”
Three
“What will we tell my family?”
Ivan looked up from his laptop at her subdued question. Anastasia had been trying to get herself to ask it ever since they’d left Dr. Balducci’s secret medical installation and driven to a private airstrip to board Ivan’s jet.
Until now, all she’d managed had been monosyllabic answers to his constant questions whether she needed anything.
Not that she possibly could. As he’d been doing for the past five weeks, he’d kept anticipating her needs, and far beyond. He’d barely let her feet touch the ground all the way to this luxurious seat in his state-of-the-art jet, barely let her lift a hand. The most she’d gotten away with had been going to the bathroom under her own power and feeding herself.
To escape his persistent focus and care, she’d had to pretend to fall asleep. Even then, she’d felt his gaze on her, no doubt counting her breaths, as usual.
She’d ended up falling asleep for real, and had just awoken a minute ago to find him finally doing something other than watch her. She’d been tempted to leave him engrossed in whatever he was doing. But she’d had to ask that question. They had to be on the same page during the coming ordeal.
It hadn’t even occurred to her that he’d offer to take her home. But she’d still felt his aversion to the task and tried to convince him to let her go back alone. It had only made him more adamant that she was in no condition to deal with the upheaval ahead. Not to mention that only he could navigate the sensitive time until Alex was buried.
Now caught once more in his burning focus, she wished she’d kept silent. He closed the laptop, pushed aside the adjustable table and sat forward in the seat facing hers.
“Now that those responsible for Alex’s murder have paid—”
She had to interrupt, her sluggish heart starting to hammer. “How exactly did they pay?”
His gaze stilled on her face. “You’re sure you want details?”
She hadn’t before. But now she burned for them. “Yes.”
He didn’t answer at once, as if trying to gauge if it was prudent to give her more information that might disturb her.
But he must have seen the steel hardening her nerves, the fire licking through her veins, her need to have vengeance for Alex fueling her, overriding any aversion she might have previously had to learn what he was capable off, what he’d done.