Dirty Passions An Interracial Russian Mafia Romance (The Lion and The Mouse #5) - Kenya Wright

Prologue

The War Room

Emily

I woke up to an empty bed. There, I lay under tons of soft blankets, silk sheets, and fluffy pillows, but no lion.

Where is Kaz?

Sunlight peeked in from the window.

At least I haven’t slept the day away.

This morning had been a lot.

Dr. Stovall rushed to the house, gave me a quick exam, and told me that I had miscarried after being four weeks pregnant. He’d been Valentina’s emergency OB-GYN whenever she visited Moscow during her pregnancy. Dr. Stovall made a follow-up appointment for me to come to his office in two days and do a full examination.

After that, I fell asleep in Kazimir’s arms. Those huge muscles wrapped around me, almost shielding my shattered mind from more suffering.

Almost.

Grief remained deep in the crevices of my heart and lingered within the dark corners of my soul. I’d never experienced grief this bad before.

The guilt was the worst part. I beat myself up for what I’d done to my child. Over and over I played out the last days in my mind. I thought about Jean-Pierre and I fighting in Paris. The battles with his men. The slams I had taken to my gut. The punches. The running. All the escapes.

I wished I’d known for sure that I was pregnant. Would things have been better? Would I have been more careful?

Those questions hit me as I cuddled next to Kazimir. And still the guilt never left.

My body drowned in soreness. I experienced the worst cramps in my life. Plus, I still had bruises from the kidnapping situation, but now there were more aches. And my heart. I’d never felt this sort of ache in that organ before. I had lost so many people in my life and gone through a lot, but this pain in my heart, this loss. . .it was different than all the rest.

Where’s Kaz?

Insanity hit me.

I yearned to scream—into my pillows, inside the quiet of a shower, in other places where no one could hear me. I felt hopeless like when I was a little girl in Harlem, standing for long periods in front of my old foster home and staring at dandelions, wishing I could blow away in a breeze like the seeds. Free and light as air. Escaping far away.

I have to get this out of my head. Why am I sad? I lost a baby I didn’t know I had. . .

Pain never held logic. Depression was always unreasonable and coming at the most unwanted times.

Only Kaz could calm the agony. Only he could soothe me. In his arms, I could survive it all.

And what did my lion think of the miscarriage? Did he blame or hate me? Did it hurt him as much as me?

More guilt came. It hurt more than the pain. It swelled in my heart. And there would be no pill or drink to heal it. I doubted it would ever go away.

I had killed a lot of people in my life, but never my own child.

Swallowing down regret, I rose into a sitting position and scanned the dark room. It felt too heavy to rise, when the world sat like a concrete block pushing against my ribs.

I eased out of bed and held my stomach. Tenderness bloomed there.

Is this the feeling of emptiness?

I wore silk pajamas. Blue. Usually when I slept with Kaz I didn’t bother to put on any clothes. We were always all over each other. Many times he woke me up in the middle of the night—his cock pressing against my ass and a groan escaping his mouth. And all I could do was oblige the lion. I loved him so.

But after the miscarriage, I wore pajamas and a sanitary pad to catch any more blood. Dr. Stovall said I would still be passing our child for a while.

I pushed that thought out of my head.

I don’t want to think about any of this anymore. What happened already happened. That’s it. I can’t. . .

I stood next to my bed and stared at the wall.

I can’t take any of it back.

I headed to the door without putting on slippers or a robe. I needed Kaz. I was desperate for the sight of him. It wasn’t many times where I could admit this to myself or even him, but I felt so weak. So powerless. I had to have him near, encasing me in utter power, letting me know that all would be okay.

I opened the door and left the bedroom.

Boris greeted me, standing outside the door