Pregnant With My Boss's Twin Brother's Baby

CHAPTER FOUR

Dimitri's POV

Something was very wrong.

I had suspected it for weeks, but I had given Irina space. I had trusted she would tell me when she was ready.

But then she had fainted in my bathroom. And I had called Dr. Petrov. And now, three hours later, the doctor still hadn't come to my office to give me his report.

That meant one of two things.

Either Irina was more seriously ill than I thought, or the doctor had found something he wasn't sure how to tell me.

Either way, I was done waiting.

I stormed down the hallway toward my bedroom, my patience finally exhausted. Two guards straightened when they saw me coming, but I barely acknowledged them.

I threw open my bedroom door.

Dr. Petrov was packing his medical bag. He looked up, startled, then quickly composed himself.

"Dimitri. I was just coming to find you."

"What's wrong with her?" I demanded.

"Perhaps we should discuss this in private."

"We are in private. Talk."

He hesitated, glancing at the closed bathroom door. Irina must be in there.

"Your maid is suffering from severe dehydration and malnutrition," he said carefully.

"Her body is under extreme stress. She needs rest, proper meals, and careful monitoring."

"That's not all."

I could read people too well for him to hide behind careful medical language.

"What aren't you telling me?"

Dr. Petrov looked uncomfortable.

"I really think you should speak with Miss Irina directly about—"

"Tell me now."

The doctor sighed. He set down his bag and met my eyes.

"She's pregnant," he said quietly.

"About four weeks along."

The world stopped.

Everything—sound, movement, thought—just stopped.

Pregnant.

Irina was pregnant.

"That's not possible," I heard myself say.

"I'm quite certain of the diagnosis."

"It's not possible," I repeated, my voice rising.

"I never touched her. I never... we never..."

Understanding dawned in the doctor's eyes.

"You're saying you're not the father."

"I'm saying I couldn't be the father. Because nothing ever happened between us."

"Then..." Dr. Petrov trailed off, looking troubled.

"Then someone else touched her."

My voice went cold. Deadly.

"Someone else put their hands on her. Under my roof. Under my protection."

"Dimitri, I don't think—"

"Who?" I turned to the bathroom door.

"IRINA!"

The door opened slowly. She emerged, her face pale and tear-stained. She looked terrified.

Good. She should be terrified.

Because I was about to burn this entire compound to the ground to find out who had touched her.

"Sir," she whispered.

"Dr. Petrov, leave us." My voice was steel.

"Dimitri, perhaps I should stay—"

"Leave. Now."

He hesitated, then gathered his bag and left quickly.

The door closed behind him with a soft click.

Irina and I stood in my bedroom, five feet apart, the air between us crackling with tension.

"Pregnant," I said softly. Dangerously.

She flinched.

"Four weeks."

She nodded, tears streaming down her face.

"Tell me who." My voice was barely above a whisper.

"Tell me who dared touch you."

"I can't," she choked out.

"You will." I took a step toward her.

"You will tell me right now, or I swear to God, Irina, I will line up every man in this compound and put a bullet in their head one by one until someone confesses."

"Please don't make me do this."

"Who. Touched. You."

"I thought it was you!" The words burst out of her like a dam breaking.

"I swear on everything holy, I thought it was you!"

I froze. "What?"

"The night of the party." She was sobbing now, barely able to get the words out.

"Someone came into your room. It was so dark. He wore your robe. The black silk one. He had your height. Your build. Your hair. And I thought... I was so sure..."

Understanding crashed over me like a physical blow.

No.

No, it couldn't be.

"What color were his eyes?"

I asked, though I already knew the answer.

She looked up at me, her face crumpling.

"I never saw them. It was too dark. By the time there was any light, he was already gone."

Forest green, I thought. His eyes were forest green.

My brother.

My twin.

Alexei had done this.

The rage that filled me was unlike anything I had ever felt. It was hot and cold at the same time, burning and freezing, consuming every rational thought.

"No," I breathed.

"Dimitri, I'm so sorry. I never meant—"

"It was Alexei." I wasn't asking. I was stating a fact.

Irina said nothing, but her silence was answer enough.

"He came into my room. Wore my robe. In the dark. And you..." I couldn't finish the sentence.

"I thought he was you," she whispered.

"I swear I thought he was you. I would never... I could never..."

My hands were shaking. My whole body was shaking. I needed to hit something. Break something. Kill something.

Kill someone.

"Where is he?" I asked, my voice lethal.

"I don't know. He left the next morning. I haven't seen him since."

"Good." I walked to the door. "Because when I find him, I'm going to tear him apart with my bare hands."

"Dimitri, please—"

I slammed out of the room, leaving her crying behind me.

I found Alexei three hours later in his apartment in the western district.

He opened the door looking relaxed, a drink in his hand, a smile on his face.

The smile died when he saw my expression.

"Dima? What—"

I hit him.

My fist connected with his jaw hard enough to snap his head back. He stumbled into his apartment, blood spraying from his split lip.

"What the hell?!" he shouted.

I hit him again. And again. And again.

He went down, and I went down with him, my hands finding his throat.

"You touched her," I snarled. "You touched MY woman."

Alexei's eyes went wide. He clawed at my hands, trying to break my grip.

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"Irina! The maid! The girl I hid in my room! The girl you fucked thinking she was just some random woman!"

Recognition flashed in his eyes. Then horror.

"Oh God," he gasped. "Oh God, that was..."

"Yes." I released his throat and grabbed his shirt, hauling him up so we were face to face.

"That was Irina. And now she's pregnant with your bastard."

All the color drained from his face.

"No."

"Yes."

"Dima, I didn't know. I swear I didn't know it was her. I was drunk, I couldn't see, I just—"

"She thought you were me." My voice shook.

"She gave herself to you because she thought you were ME."

Alexei looked like I had shot him. "I... I didn't..."

"Four years," I said, my voice breaking.

"Four years I've loved her. Four years I've protected her. Four years I waited for her to come to me freely. And you took that from me. You took mmmmmmm from me."

"I didn't know," he said again, desperately.

"If I had known, I never would have... Dima, you have to believe me."

"It doesn't matter what you knew." I shoved him away.

"It matters what you did."

Alexei stood slowly, wiping blood from his mouth. His forest green eyes were filled with guilt and something else. Something that looked like resolve.

"I'll fix this," he said

.

"You can't fix this," I said coldly.

"There is no fixing this."

"I'll take responsibility."

Alexei's voice was firm now, gaining strength.

"The baby is mine. That makes her mine too. I'll—"

"Don't." The word came out like a whip crack.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence."

"Dimitri, be reasonable—"

"Reasonable?" I laughed, and it was a terrible sound.

"You want me to be reasonable while you stand there and claim the woman I love?"

The words hung between us.

I had never said it out loud before. Never admitted it, not even to myself. But now it was there, raw and bleeding in the open.

"You love her," Alexei said quietly. It wasn't a question.

"Of course I love

her." My voice cracked.

"I've loved her since the day she walked into my life. I've loved her through every moment of every day for four years. And I never touched her. I never forced her. I waited. I wanted her to choose me freely."

"Dima—"

"And you took that choice from her."

The words tasted like ash.

"You took everything."

Alexei's jaw tightened. "I know. And I'm sorry. I'm sorrier than you'll ever know. But the baby changes everything."

"The baby changes nothing."

"It changes everything," he insisted.

"She's carrying my child. In our world, that makes her mine. You know the laws as well as I do."

"Laws?" I stepped closer to him, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper.

"You want to talk about laws? You broke into my private quarters. You touched my woman. You—"

"I didn't know!" Alexei's control finally snapped.

"How many times do I have to say it?

I was drunk. I couldn't see. I thought it was just another room. I didn't know she was there. I didn't know she thought I was you. I. Didn't. Know."

"But you know now," I said softly.

"And you're still trying to take her from me."

"I'm trying to take responsibility for my actions. That's what a man does."

"A man doesn't sleep with his brother's woman."

"I DIDN'T KNOW SHE WAS YOURS!"

The shout echoed through the apartment. We stood there, breathing hard, staring at each other.

Two halves of one whole.

Now irreparably broken.

"She was mine first," I whispered, my voice deadly calm.

"And you stole her in the dark."

Alexei's expression shifted. Hardened. His forest green eyes met my ocean blue ones with something that looked like challenge.

"She belongs to me now," he said quietly. Firmly.

The words were a declaration of war.

I stared at my brother. My twin. The person I had trusted more than anyone in the world. And all I could see was a stranger wearing a familiar face.

"Get out," I said coldly.

"Dimitri—"

"Get out of my sight before I kill you."

Alexei hesitated, then turned and grabbed his jacket. He paused at the door, looking back at me.

"I know you won't believe this," he said quietly.

"But I do care about her. I will take care of her. And the baby."

"You don't get to care about her." My voice was ice.

"You don't get to pretend this is anything more than you claiming what you stole."

"I'm not pretending anything. The baby is mine. That's not pretending. That's fact."

"We don't know that for certain,"

I said, though the words felt hollow even as I said them.

Alexei's expression softened slightly.

"Dima, you said yourself you never touched her. If you weren't with her, and I was..."

He trailed off, letting the logic speak for itself.

I wanted to argue. Wanted to deny it. But he was right, and we both knew it.

"Get out," I said again.

This time, he left.

The door closed behind him, and I stood alone in his apartment, my hands clenched into fists, my whole body shaking with rage I couldn't release.

My brother had destroyed me.

And the worst part was, I didn't know if I could ever forgive him.