Preg-Not

8

She spent the rest of that day just staring at Maksim's picture. His clothes were crisp clean and pin straight, but there was disaster in his eyes and gritted jaw.

The laptop pressed into her abdomen, offering the bump a cold, unnatural introduction to its father. Raelynn wished that was the closest they would ever get, but it wasn't enough. Maksim deserved a chance.

What would she do if he chose the mafia life over them? She didn't know. What if he was vengeful enough to rip custody from her? That scenario was even scarier.

While she had no money or a clear background check to fight him, she had the element of surprise. The only way she would admit her pregnancy to Maksim was if she was sure that he wouldn't prosecute her.

She would try to get back with him, pull him out of his dangerous life, and then introduce him to the life inside her.

Closing the laptop, she rolled to her side and shut her eyes. She dreamt of a small, multicolored box that was tearing at the seams but had light shining through its tears.

– • –

Over the next few days, she set up a website selling her art products and sent out her resume to four job openings.

With her situation, finishing her marketing degree was out of the question. It would have to wait until the future, but at least she had her skills to depend on.

It was on day three that she gathered the courage to look into Maksim. It was time to meet him.

She stared at the two dresses on her bed. They were the baggiest dresses she owned. They were frilly, ankle-length, and floral. She only got them because they were on sale and she wanted to cut them up for kitchen curtains, but never got the chance.

With her hands on her stomach, she looked in the mirror. It was way too early to be showing, but she had an irrational fear that Maksim would see right through her.

She slipped the dress on and immediately sent a mental apology to her window for considering dressing up in this stuff.

Packing up her bag, she slipped into the streets of Brooklyn.

Maksim was truly inescapable. She didn't know how he ended up in New York; the same city she moved to. Did he do it on purpose? Was he reminding her that although she could leave their apartment, he would still haunt her?

She took the crowded train and stared at a sign that encouraged pedestrians to give their seat to the disabled and pregnant. No one in the cart could tell her condition. She looked like a regular woman in an ugly dress. Her secret was safe for a few months, but soon, her belly would start rebelling.

She walked past tourists and New Yorkers. She kept her eyes low, afraid that she would see the color red somewhere and have another PTSD episode.

When she finally reached the right block, she looked up, and up, and up. The skyscraper scowled down at her, and she wondered if its owner was scowling from behind a window, too.

She spent a long time wondering how she would get in touch with Maksim. Walking to the reception desk and asking to speak with their CEO would probably result in her being escorted out. It took her a long time to realize that to get Maksim's attention, all she had to do was stand and stare. New York would do the rest of the job for her. It was buzzing with crowds of people. Standing in place would look normal in any other city except this one. At some point, security would notice the strange woman outside and the word would reach Maksim.

It took two hours of standing under the sun and the scrutiny of the building before a suited male– security, appeared before her.

"Ma'am."

She clutched her cross-body purse, making sure it covered her front.

"You are being invited to meet with one of our executives."

She followed him without a word, entering the lobby– the belly of the beast. Somewhere in this grey, white, black, chrome, glass and steel was the owner of her heart.

Employees and customers milled about, not knowing that the heir to this kingdom was tucked safely inside the woman with the ugly dress.

Raelynn didn't care to look into what business was conducted here. It didn't matter, because she knew it was all a front. Maksim didn't go from rags to riches overnight by hitting the lottery. It was his mafia connections that got him to the top floor of the skyscraper.

The enormous elevator had a red carpet. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the sound of dinging as the elevator climbed the floors. When the doors slid open, Raelynn felt like she entered a new planet. Gravity seemed to double, making her feet and belly feel heavier.

"Ma'am?"

She forced herself forward, eyeing the floor. It was no longer red.

She didn't care to examine the walls, which she was sure were draped with expensive pieces of art. She wasn't here to take, but to give.

They stopped in front of two doors. They were glass. Of course they were. Maksim hid from no one. He wasn't prey.

She saw him before anything else. Body encased in a suit, but hair tossed as if he drew the line there. His fisted hands were on his desk, tatted and looking out of place among the crisp sheets of white paper.

Her escort held the door open, and she stepped inside. There was no red carpet in this room, but she still didn't feel safe.

Maksim didn't speak, but his eyes spoke a language that needed no translation. Fury.

She gripped her purse tighter.

"What are you doing here? I left you in Arizona."

I left you. You didn't leave me.

"Maksim..." she forgot the rest of her speech when he stood up.

He stomped forward like a soldier ready to execute the target, tie swinging but eyes dead-set on her.

As Raelynn walked backward, she realized that he looked taller. Was it because of the vengeance and betrayal that were swelling him?

Books clattered down when she bumped into a bookshelf. She looked at the opened pages, searching for the words she had prepared. All intelligent thought had disintegrated, leaving her with the primal emotion of fear.

"Did you see me in a magazine? The news?" Maksim sneered. "Did you figure I could finally do more than fuck your cunt well?"

She shook her head. "No! Stop."

"Stop what? Talking?" He flashed his teeth, leaning in. "Does the Russian accent still disgust you even when I'm filthy rich?"

Her eyes prickled with frustration, but she didn't want to cry. "This has nothing to do with that. I came to apologize and explain what really made me leave. The letter was just an excuse. My father– when I was in highschool– I was afraid..."

"You can't provide for me as a man. You can't take care of me. Can't buy me nice things, take me out on dates, or start a family," he recited.

With horror, she realized that he memorized the letter.

He reached his hands up, pulled off a ring, and flicked it at her. It was heavy– wordlessly worth thousands. The ring was followed by another. Both bounced off her chest before falling to the ground. He undid his Rolex, throwing it at her, too. It thudded against her belly, and she covered it protectively.

"Stop. I don't want this!"

Tears sprang from his cruelty, and she pushed off the wall to escape him. A black square hit her arm– a credit card, and hundred dollar bills fell around her like confetti.

"Don't forget your payment, whore."

She ran out of there, her ugly dress fluttering, her purse swinging.

She didn't look back.

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