— What is it, Nastya? Are you afraid of me?
— No…
— Then I don’t understand. Is this dirty politician really so dear to you that it’s him you cling to—one whose crimes have made him worthy of prison?
— Don’t talk about him like that. He’s my husband!
— I know, so what? It’s not an argument for me.
— And the fact that I’m pregnant with his child—an argument for you?!
A man’s palm suddenly tightened in the girl’s hair, but almost immediately loosened and gently slid over her nape. His already heavy gaze turned angry—so frightening that it made the knees tremble.
— I waited too long for our meeting, Nastеньka, to back away now over such nonsense. Pack your things—you’re coming with me.