"Jesus," I breathed, pressing a hand to my stomach.
"This is good news, I hope?" Dr. Grant asked carefully.
"I don’t know," I admitted. "It’s complicated."
He nodded with the understanding of someone who’d probably heard that phrase more times than he could count. "Miss James, I need you to understand something. Given Mr. Creed’s... profession, and the stress you’re likely under, this pregnancy is going to require very careful monitoring. Stress can cause complications, especially in the first trimester."
"What kind of complications?"
"Miscarriage, for one. High blood pressure. Poor fetal development." His voice was gentle but firm. "You need to take care of yourself. That means proper nutrition, rest, and minimizing stress as much as possible."
Minimizing stress. Right. Because living in a fortress with a man who casually discussed murder over dinner was the definition of low-stress.
"How long can I hide this?" I asked.
"The physical changes usually become noticeable around twelve to sixteen weeks for a first pregnancy. But Miss James—" Heleaned forward, his expression serious. "I have to ask. Is there a reason you feel unsafe telling Mr. Creed about this pregnancy?"
The question hit too close to home. Because the truth was, I didn’t feel unsafe with Roman. If anything, I felt more protected than I ever had in my life. But a baby would change everything between us, and would add a layer of complication to an already impossible situation.
"It’s not that," I said finally. "It’s just—this world he lives in, the danger. I need to figure out how to protect this child before I tell him."
Dr. Grant studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "I understand. But Miss James, I strongly encourage you not to wait too long. Stress aside, you’re going to need support during this pregnancy. And hiding something this significant from someone you’re living with... It’s not sustainable."
"I know." I twisted my hands in my lap. "I just need time."
"Of course." He reached into his bag and pulled out a small bottle of prenatal vitamins. "Take one of these daily. Try to eat small, frequent meals to combat the nausea. Crackers and ginger tea can help. And Miss James?"
"Yes?"
"If you need anything—medical advice, someone to talk to, help with the transition when you’re ready to tell Mr. Creed—don’t hesitate to call me. I’ve been the family physician for years. I understand the unique challenges of this world."
The casual way he referenced "this world" told me everything I needed to know about Dr. Grant’s experience with Roman’sfamily. He’d probably seen his share of secrets, complications, and dangerous situations.
"Thank you," I whispered, tucking the vitamin bottle into my pocket.
He was packing up his equipment when the door opened, and Roman appeared, his sharp gaze immediately finding mine. I watched his eyes catalog every detail—my posture, my color, the way I was sitting.
"How is she?" he asked Dr. Grant, but his attention never left my face.
"A mild case of influenza," Dr. Grant said smoothly. "Rest, fluids, and she should be feeling better in a few days. I’ve given her some vitamins to help boost her immune system."
Roman nodded, but I could see the wheels turning behind those blue eyes. He wasn’t entirely convinced.
"She needs to stay in bed," Dr. Grant continued. "Minimal stress, minimal activity. Let her body fight this off naturally."
"Done." Roman moved to my side, his hand finding my shoulder with possessive gentleness. "Whatever she needs."
Dr. Grant gathered his things and headed for the door, but paused to look back at me. "Rest, Miss James. And remember what we discussed about taking care of yourself."
The moment he was gone, Roman’s full attention focused on me like a laser. Those blue eyes seemed to see straight through to my soul, and I had to work to keep my expression neutral.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.
I managed what I hoped looked like a fragile smile, hiding the truth behind the lie I’d constructed. "Better. Tired, but better."
But as Roman studied my face, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew I was hiding something.
And God help me, I had no idea how much longer I could keep this secret.
