The drive to the clinic was a ridiculous exhibition of power and paranoia. We weren't driving to a routine prenatal check-up; we were initiating a military maneuver. A phalanx of black SUVs flanked our armored car, Ivan and Alexander personally leading the advance. Every window of the clinic had been sealed, every employee vetted, and the entire block had been designated a temporary no-fly zone.
Vladimir sat next to me, his presence a fortress of tailored gray wool and contained tension. His hand hadn’t left my knee since we left the mansion, the heat of his palm a persistent, possessive weight through the fabric of my skirt.
“Stop clenching your jaw, Vova,” I murmured, reaching over to place my hand over his. “The doctor is already nervous enough about the security detail. If you look l
