Chapter Three: An Uninvited Guest.

          Two weeks later

I stood in front of my mirror, checking out my outfit and making sure no hairs were sticking out from my slicked-back sock bun.

I placed my wallet, phone, and keys in my pocket before walking out of the room. Stopping in the middle of the kitchen and living room, I noted the dining room was full of takeout boxes. I'd told Caroline countless times to clean up after herself, but she never listened. That girl was tempting me, but I didn't have time for that now; I had a doctor's appointment in the next hour.

The ringing of my phone stopped me from walking out the door of my apartment. I looked and saw the caller ID: Mr. Mason. Oh, that’s my boss.

“Hello, Isabella, how are you doing?” I heard his gruff voice as I instantly picked up the call.

“I’m fine, boss. Is there a problem at the office? Because I requested this day off,” I said, a hint of steel in my voice. I'd be damned if he made me come all the way there.

“No, that’s not it. I just want to let you know that you will be reporting for the meeting with the Davison brothers in LA.”

“Okay,” I replied, forcing a tight-lipped smile he definitely couldn't see.

“Have a nice day.”

As the call ended, I let out a deep sigh. I liked my boss; he was kind and a good family man, but a trip to LA was not what I was up for now.

I locked the door of my apartment, walking to the elevator to head downstairs to my packed car, my regular bitch face already set. I needed to get this whole thing done and fast so that I could just come back home and do nothing.

                ************

“So, Miss Romano, I’m going to need a urine sample.” My doctor walked in with a cup.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, grabbing the cup from her hand and finishing the rest of my bottle of water.

“Oh, I just want you to do that before I say anything else, just in case it’s a false alarm.” She shook her head.

Nodding, I walked over to the bathroom, not wanting to question the woman, just doing as told.

But I couldn't help but ask myself what type of false alarm she could raise.

Finishing up, I washed my hands and flushed the toilet before walking out and passing the cup to her. She nodded and smiled at me as she walked away towards another room, while I just sat down.

Just give me my damn fucking shot, it doesn’t take this long, I thought, a flicker of irritation rising in me.

After a good twenty minutes of waiting, the doctor came back in, writing on her clipboard.

“So, it looks like you won’t be getting your birth control shot today, Isabella.” She clicked her pen and smiled up at me.

“And why not?” I asked, tilting my head at her, my anger starting to simmer.

What the hell is happening? I just want my goddamn shot!

“Well, instead, you will be getting these. It seems that you missed your last shot, and these are your options to deal with your pregnancy.” She passed me a pamphlet, all of them holding babies on the cover.

“Pregnant? I’m pregnant?” I looked up at her, hoping that she was reading someone else's file by accident and not mine.

“Yes, Miss Romano, congratulations. There are other options if you don’t want to keep the baby—abortion or adoption—but I think it’s important you take the time to think about it before you make a decision,” she said, leaning against a table and looking at me.

“No, I'm going to keep the baby,” I said, rubbing my face, feeling a wave of stress wash over me.

I didn't have the heart to abort a child. Even if it wasn't technically alive yet, it was still a growing human being. It was my human being, and I wasn't about to put him or her up for adoption. If you're going to do dirty, then you've got to take responsibility for the aftermath. That's something I always told myself, and I don't give a damn what everyone else does, but this is what I'm doing.

Damn me and my heart.

I collected my things and got the prenatal pills from the doctor, talking more before I left, heading out front to schedule my next appointment.

After all the baby talk with the doctor and making the appointment, I was feeling kind of excited now. I'd always wanted a kid, and even though it wasn't planned and I would be a single mom, it didn't matter to me how it happened.

Before heading home, I stopped at the pharmacy and grabbed a pregnancy test. I would need to show my mom this, but the problem was how I would tell her about all this. The worst would be my father and brothers; it would be a hell of a drama.

Walking out of the pharmacy, I had the same feeling of being watched. I didn't know why, but for the past few weeks, I'd been feeling eyes on me too much. I brushed it off and hurried to get some ice cream and go to a park to digest this whole information, because it was a lot.

After my whole wandering about, I arrived at my apartment at night. Walking in, I saw that the whole mess Caroline had left had been cleared. Damn right! Because she wouldn't want an angry pregnant woman on her ass.

I walked down to the kitchen, going to grab something to eat. I opened the fridge and saw the salad and spicy tuna that I'd left. Walking to my room, I opened the door and placed the food on my nightstand, pulling my bra off and throwing it in the laundry basket in the corner.

Before I could get comfortable in my bed, start eating my food, and watch some Friends, I heard a knock.

Groaning and standing up, I pushed myself to the door, thoroughly annoyed. I didn't know many people, and I sure as hell knew that wasn't Caro. Who the hell could be at my door at this time?

Opening the door, I froze. This was not what I expected.

“Hello, Bella,” he spoke, his Russian accent thick and, in my personal opinion, totally hot.

“How do you know my name? How do you know where I live? And what are you doing here?” I asked calmly, hoping he wouldn't see my foot moving to go towards the back of the door so it couldn't open any further than it already was. Just my luck, he did.

This had happened before a few times, where one of my random one-night stands came back to my apartment, and sometimes a stalker. But I guess you could say it was something normalized for me. At least with the family I grew up with, creepy was not so weird.

“I know people, Krasotka,( beautiful)” he stated instead.

“ I believe you have something to tell me lybuov (love)”

Pretending to think, I shook my head. Honestly, the whole pregnancy thing hadn't even fully sunk in, and he expected me to look for him and tell him, a person I had no idea who he was.

He had me pinned against the wall within seconds, the door closed and locked.

“I don't like liars, Krasotka (beautiful). I'll ask again: Do you have something to tell me?” His hand was on my neck, and his body was pressed up against mine.

He looked scary, but I felt like that was why I was attracted to him in the first place. He was super hot. If I weren't into guys who looked like him and owned an accent, then I would be terrified of him. But right now, I was more turned on than anything.

I opened my mouth to talk, but I just whispered when a shiver ran up my spine.

With a smirk and a shake of his head, he let go of my neck and caged me in, a hand on both sides of my head.

“So you're not going to tell me that you're pregnant, or that it's my child?” He shook his head in disappointment.

“I just found out I was pregnant a few hours ago, and do you have any idea that I'm not even sure if the baby is yours? It could be someone else's for all you know,” I raised an eyebrow.

“Wait, how the hell do you even know about the baby?” I asked.

“I have men watching where you go and who you are with for a while now. Then I heard you went to get a pregnancy test after going to the doctor. I made my way to the hospital. The doctor gave your information more easily than I thought she would. I thought you would have gone home, but I hear you were roaming from one place to another, then my men couldn't find you again.”

 His expression was hard, his face didn't show any emotion.

“I don't like not knowing where you are, lyubov,” he stated, a growl in his voice.

I felt his English wasn't perfect, but it was better than most. I mean, he didn't make full sentences, but he made sense.

“Of course you had people spy on me,” I scoffed.

“What is your name? The least you can do is tell me who you are, since you know all about me.”

“Vladimir,” he answered, but I didn't need his help to know that his last name was Volkov.

My father and brothers had made me look at pictures and memorize the names of those I should never get near, and I could remember that he was one of them.

Russian mob boss. The one time I get knocked up, it couldn't be with a normal guy, with a normal job and a normal family.

I sighed and shook my head, a mix of feelings churning inside me, unsure how I should react right now. But I knew I'd messed up so much.