"I love you Mickey"

Part 16

Mickey's pov:

That morning, I headed straight home after seeking Mary's permission. It seemed wise to keep a distance from Klas, allowing him the time and space he might need after the emotional meltdown. Driving Anthony's Jeep Gladiator, exhaustion weighed heavily on me, but sleep eluded me as thoughts of both Natalie and Klas swirled relentlessly in my mind. A nagging uncertainty lingered - had Klas broken up with me after yesterday's events? Did he still consider himself my boyfriend? Did he still love me? These questions haunted my thoughts, making the prospect of rest seem elusive.

Exiting the car, I entered the house, finding Max and Natalie in the kitchen. Despite an overwhelming urge to confront them physically, my drained energy kept me seated next to Max, my gaze fixed on Natalie. Observing her closely for the first time, I realized she was slightly younger than me, with blonde hair and a distinctive, pointy nose.

"Get rid of it," I uttered, my gaze fixed on her. Emotions swirled within me, a confusing mix of unfamiliar feelings. I couldn't categorize it as sadness or happiness; the situation left me perplexed. "I don't want the thing. I'm not ready for a kid, and I won't accept it as mine," I explained, my annoyance evident.

"No!" Natalie fought back. "I'm not getting rid of this baby, I love it; it's my first one," she insisted. I stood up, frustration mounting. Exhaustion weighed on me, and this argument was taking a toll. "I don't care! I would never care!" I yelled louder than her, startling her.

"I have a life; I found someone, and I was starting to feel happiness, and you have to ruin it," I hissed. The tension continued until my father walked in, his frown deepening as he observed us. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he sat, eyeing both Natalie and me. "What is going on here?" he grumbled, clearly annoyed.

"He wants me to get rid of this baby," Natalie replied. My father rolled his eyes, displaying his discontent. "No way! We need more Ruslanov to rule this neighborhood, and you're not getting rid of it, son," he declared, addressing me. "Why don't you take him then? I'm not taking responsibility for it," I retorted. In response, he threw a beer at me, but I managed to dodge it. "It was yours, after all," he laughed.

Frustrated, I stormed to my room, slamming the door shut behind me. I was on the verge of yelling when the door swung open, revealing Max. I halted, relieved to see a familiar face. He closed the door behind him, joining me on the floor. "Does Klas know about this?" he inquired, a hint of sympathy evident. I nodded, and he rested his head on my shoulder.

"At the end of the day, the one to blame is that old prick, not anyone, not you, and not Natalie. She's still 19, too young to know everything, and you can't blame her," Max explained, offering a perspective that brought some clarity. The revelation of Natalie's age shocked me, but in this unpredictable neighborhood, anything seemed possible.

"I'm not ready, Max," I admitted, and he nodded in understanding. "You know Dad won't take responsibility for it. He did that to show you who's the boss, and he doesn't care about Natalie at all. Yes, it's not your fault she's pregnant now, but that kid is yours," he asserted, prompting a sigh from me. Exhaustion weighed heavily on me; thoughts blurred, and my heart seemed to beat slower and slower.

"Want it or not, you have to take the responsibility. Natalie needs you," Max stated, his words carrying a weight of truth. I nodded, and Max sat up, looking at me with a mix of understanding and support, before pulling me into a comforting hug. Faced with the reality of the situation, I decided to keep the thing, if only for Natalie's sake.

Returning to the mansion, I mustered the courage to ask Anthony for a raise, recognizing the need for additional income to support Natalie and the upcoming child. Entering the living room, I found the family gathered, engaged in television time. Mary offered a warm smile, Klas chose to ignore my presence, and Anthony encouraged me to join them. Declining, I requested a conversation with Anthony, acknowledging that the family was already aware of the situation.

Seated on a sofa across from them, I nervously scratched my brow before mustering the words, "I, uh, I'm expecting." Anthony, standing up with enthusiasm, congratulated me with a hug, although my forced smile betrayed a complex mix of emotions. As he settled back into his seat, I continued, "But that's not all. I'm hoping you could consider raising my salary. I've done the math, and it won't be enough for the hospital bills soon, let alone taking care of the child as they grow up."

Anthony, ever understanding, responded promptly, "Of course, I'm happy to help." Grateful for his support, I stole a glance at Klas, whose discontent was evident. Expressing my gratitude to the family for their kindness, I left the room, mindful of the challenges ahead.

After dinner, with Anthony and Mary out, I roamed the empty house only to discover Klas in tears in the living room. Approaching him cautiously, I knelt in front of him. "Hey," I whispered softly, meeting his gaze. His eyes were swollen, and his face bore the marks of recent anguish.

"You're keeping the baby, Mickey. Don't you love me?" he questioned, his voice laden with tears. Gently, I cupped his face, rubbing my thumb against his cheek. "You know I do. I love you more than anything, but it's complicated," I explained, hoping he could comprehend the complexity of the situation.

"If you do, then-" He attempted to continue, but I intervened, shaking my head, unwilling to prolong the conversation. I had already made the decision to keep the child. "I want to break up, Mickey. I can't, sorry," he uttered before rushing upstairs. Tears streamed down my cheeks; the pain was intense, unlike anything I had felt before. Yet, deep down, I recognized it was a painful necessity for both of us.

Klas's pov:

Betrayal from Mickey pierced through me, leaving an agonizing ache. Trusting him with all my heart, he chose deceit, concealing the truth about the baby. It wasn't the presence of the child that I despised, but the fact that Mickey had kept such a significant secret from me. The breakup was a painful necessity, and now I needed to redirect my focus to myself, a task that felt insurmountable.

Everywhere I turned, Mickey lingered in my thoughts, a haunting presence that refused to fade. Determined to finish my work, I stayed late after class, Harvey by my side for company. Despite Harvey's presence, concentration eluded me. My gaze shifted to the new bodyguard my father had assigned for my safety, engrossed in his phone. Seizing the opportunity, I contemplated making a move, seeking a distraction from the lingering echoes of Mickey's betrayal.

I called out Harvey to come and I stared at him seductively. I grabbed his tie pulling him close, licking his lips to which responded by opening his mouth. I pulled him closer, sticking my tongue in his mouth and started to make out with him. It went rough quickly as he pulled me up, pushing me against the wall. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he grinded his body against mine, our tongues still connected. "my house?" he spoke between the kisses and I nodded.

The new bodyguard maintained a stoic silence, his watchful eyes fixed on the surroundings as we headed towards Harvey's house. Upon arrival, I instructed him to remain in the car, assuring it would be a brief visit. Harvey swiftly opened the door, pulling me out and pressing me against the car. I bit my lip as Harvey started to suck on my neck. I was moaning loud by the time he left me bunch of hickeys.

As we were about to take things inside the house, a sudden force pulled Harvey behind us, causing him to fall backward, hitting his head. Turning around, I saw Mickey, his gaze fixed on Harvey, evident frustration etched across his face. Recognizing the significance of Mickey scratching his brow, a signal of impending emotional intensity, I knew the situation was precarious.

Harvey, bewildered and angered, exclaimed, "What the hell are you doing, dude?"

Mickey, with a chuckle, retorted, "What the fuck am I doing, fucker? I'm stopping you from sticking your dick into my lover." His words punctuated by kicks, each landing on Harvey. Reacting swiftly, I intervened, pushing Mickey away and managing to halt the assault. With a firm grip on my arms, Mickey guided me towards the car, forcefully pushing me inside. He cast a threatening glance at the new bodyguard, who trembled under his scrutiny.

"Bring him home, make sure he's safe, or else I'll come after you," Mickey warned, slamming the car door shut. As the vehicle sped away, I was left in the dark about Mickey's actions and Harvey's well-being.

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