Chapter 87 Your Penalty Is Building Up

Chapter 87 Your Penalty Is Building Up
Gianna

The cramps hit like a freight train an hour later.

I’m curled up on the couch in one of Dmitry’s oversized hoodies, a heating pad pressed against my lower belly, trying not to whimper every time another wave rolls through me. The relief I felt in the bathroom earlier has officially turned into bitter regret. Why did I ever wish for this? I think, biting down on my lip as another sharp twist makes me draw my knees closer to my chest.

This is karma. Straight-up cosmic payback for panicking over a pregnancy I wasn’t even sure about.

Dmitry walks back into the living room carrying a tray worry etched on his face as he moves like an assigned private nurse. There’s a mug of chamomile tea, a bar of dark chocolate, painkillers, and a fresh hot water bottle. His eyes soften the second they land on me.

“You’re still hurting,” he says, not a question. He sets the tray on the coffee table and crouches in front of the couch so we’re eye-level. One big hand rests gently on my thigh, thumb stroking slow circles over the fabric.

“It’s not that bad,” I lie, even as my face probably tells a different story.

He gives me that look—the one that says he sees straight through my bullshit. Then he stands, slides his arms under me, and lifts me like I weigh nothing. I let out a surprised squeak as he settles onto the couch with me in his lap, rearranging the heating pad and tucking the new hot water bottle against my stomach.

“Better?” he murmurs against my hair.

I nod, already melting into his chest. He’s warm and solid and smells like home. “You don’t have to do all this. It’s just a period.”

“I know.” His hand rubs soothing circles over my lower back, right where the tension is worst. “But I want to. Let me take care of you, kitten.”

I bury my face in his neck, equal parts embarrassed and stupidly in love. The cramps ease a little under his touch, or maybe it’s just the way he’s holding me like I’m a fragile glass.

He reaches for the remote and puts on Barbie. I look up at him, shock evident on my face. He remembered, I tried to hold back the tears threatening to slip down my cheeks.

“Why are you being so sweet to me?” I ask, my bottom lips quivering.

“What do you mean?” He asks, while rubbing on my feet. “I love you G, and I’ll do this and more for you”

“But I’m always so mean to you.” I frown, rubbing my eyes.

“Do I complain?”

I shake my head, no. Then he breaks off a piece of chocolate and brings it to my lips.

“Open.”

I laugh weakly but obey. The dark chocolate melts on my tongue, rich and slightly bitter. Perfect.
“You’re spoiling me,” I mumble around the chocolate.

“Good.” He presses a kiss to my temple. “You deserve it. Especially after today.”

Guilt flickers in my chest again. Jealousy has almost ruined the most beautiful thing in my life, jealousy and fear. Even the blind can see how much he loves me.

We stay like that for a while—me curled against him, his fingers working gentle magic on my back and hips. Every time a cramp builds, he notices before I even tense up. He’ll press the heating pad closer or shift me in his lap so the pressure changes, murmuring soft nonsense in Russian that somehow makes everything feel less miserable.

At one point I whimper particularly pathetically, and he chuckles quietly.

“My tough girl,” he teases, but there’s nothing but affection in his voice. “You can complain, you know. I can handle it.”

“I hate this,” I admit, voice small. “I was so relieved earlier and now I just… ugh. I feel gross and bloated and everything hurts.”

Dmitry hums, tilting my chin up so he can look at me. His eyes are warm, almost glowing in the low light of the TV. “You’re not gross. It is normal and you’re mine.” He kisses me softly, slow and careful like he’s afraid I might break. “We’ll get through it together. Tomorrow I’ll make you that soup you like. The one with the dumplings.”

My heart does a stupid little flip. “You remember that too?”

“I remember everything about you, Gianna.”

I kiss him again, deeper this time, even though my body feels like it’s staging a minor rebellion. He lets me, one hand cradling the back of my head while the other keeps rubbing my back. When I pull away, I’m smiling despite everything.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“Don’t thank me for this.” He nuzzles my nose with his. “This is what I want. All the time. The good days, the bad days, the messy ones in between. I meant what I said earlier. I’m not going anywhere.”

I believe him. The certainty in his voice wraps around me warmer than any heating pad.

Later, when the movie ends and the cramps have dulled to a manageable ache, he carries me to bed. He helps me change into softer pajamas, tucks me in, and then slides in behind me, pulling my back flush against his chest. His arm drapes over my waist, hand resting protectively over my stomach.

“Sleep, baby,” he whispers against my neck. “I’ve got you.”

I fall asleep to the feeling of his steady breathing and the quiet promise in his touch.

The first time all week I am not worrying about what happens next, not with Alec or with myself, just this beautiful moment with Dima’s arms wrapped around me, the soft kisses he plants on my forehead.

Just as I am drifting off, my phone buzzes. I groan internally, maybe tomorrow. I’ll check it tomorrow but it buzzes again.

I pick the phone from the table and the text on the screen nearly makes my breath seize.

Daine: You’ve skipped three days straight with Tamer and your penalty is building up. Do well to prepare for your session tomorrow