I held her hand tightly, her head tucked under my chin. The blue lowlights the room highlighted her pale skin. She was almost leaning on me, the closest thing to weakness she would allow herself to show. I wanted to bring her home, to tuck her in bed, to keep her safe and comfortable. But I wouldn't insult her with the suggestion. She would finish the event. She was strong and determined.

I was determined, too. I had strong offers on everything I had put up for sale. The names of my contacts, my suppliers, the people who worked for me, entire warehouses of guns and bombs. In only two days there were buyers for every aspect my syndicate. It should have taken months to move that much product. It was more than something to be suspicious about, it was almost certainly an ambush. But if I didn't go there, they would come to find me. I couldn't put Petra at risk.

So I accepted the meetings. I would fly out tomorrow afternoon. There was a significant likelihood I wouldn't make it back. I kissed the top of Petra's head. She was all I wanted, the only thing that had ever made me happy. I would do it for her. I was determined.

-Petra-

My alarm went off the next morning at 5:45am. The decorators would start arriving and setting up at seven for the ceremony at three this afternoon. The reception would end just before midnight. It was going to be a very long day.

I turned to my left, where Milos was still asleep. It was unusual, seeing him sleeping. He stayed up late and awoke early. He had this amazing ability, or he did in Prague, of sitting quietly in the dark. It didn't sound like much, but it was. Almost like meditation, but instead of nothing he thought about problem solving at work. He would lay beside me, thinking for hours. Sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night and he would still be awake, staring intently at the ceiling. Sometimes he would ask me an odd question, 'do you think a led lined football would arouse suspicions at customs' or 'would you find a Russian grandmother or an English tourist less suspicious'.

For a career criminal, he was brilliant. In another life he could have been a world class CEO. But that was not the life either of us was dealt. I wondered what he would think about when his criminal portfolio was gone. Maybe he would sleep better.

He looked tense even at rest. Fine lines were furrowed on his forehead, near his eyes. His jaw was set, making him look strangely unapproachable. I wondered what he looked like as a baby. How he slept. Was he fussy, happy, sleepy? He probably didn't know.

I looked at the clock again, 6:05. I'd spent twenty minutes staring at him. I needed to get up, but I didn't want to. I wanted to watch him sleep for a change. His chest rose and fell steadily. Old feelings stirred in my chest. Had it really only been three and a half days? It felt like much longer.

Slowly a smile crept across his face. "Shouldn't you be getting dressed, Darling?"

Strangely, I felt a little cheated. I thought I was watching him sleep. He must have been sleeping for part of it, at least. His eyes finally opened, like some sort of ridiculous Cheshire cat. I kissed him.

"I was just going." I said haughtily, masking my embarrassment. "I'll be back late tonight, around midnight."

Milos stretched and sat up while I twisted my hair into a chignon and pinned it into place with the bobby pins I kept forgetting on the bedside table. It was a bit of a talent of mine, doing elaborate hair styles with few pins and no mirror.

I headed for my room and started applying my make up. Foundation, bronzer, blush, eye liner, eyeshadow. As I finished my mascara and brushed on my finishing powder, Milos came in with an enormous platter of fruit, toast, cheese, and cold cuts. He made himself at home on my bed like he'd always lived here.

"A real European breakfast." I said appreciatively. I felt like I could eat the entire feast myself.

"You have a busy day. I don't want you getting sick again."

I laughed a little as I joined him and started putting meat on my toast. "You make it sound like I found it enjoyable."

He chewed on his toast for a moment before replying. "I am overly protective. It is my nature. There are a lot of things I have changed about myself, but being protective will never be one of them."

I laid my hand on his for a moment. "I don't need protecting, Milos."

"I know." He conceded. "You've never needed me like I need you. But as long as you don't find it overly objectionable, it makes me happy to protect you."

A frisson of guilt swept through me. I hadn't considered making Milos happy. I just assumed spending time together was enough for him. In retrospect, it was a fairly vain assumption on my part. It was one of the ways he showed affection. He provided things, generous things. A violin for busking protected me from starving. A hotel protected me when I was homeless. Food when I would have otherwise forgotten protected me from sickness. His big gestures were never meaningless. He was thoughtful, carefully considering my needs every step of the way.

"You're right." I agreed, before kissing him lightly. "Thank you for taking care of me. And the girls."

He looked genuinely pleased as he grabbed some cheese and I stepped back into my closet to dress. My floor length, Grecian inspired evening gown was comfortable at least. I wasn't thrilled with it, but there weren't many designers who made maternity lines. Eloise had been very clear that I was to dress black tie at her event.

"You look amazing." Milos said kindly as I entered the room.

"I look like a late nineties bridesmaid. Or a pregnant sorority girl at her formal." I replied fairly acerbically.

He shook his head, frowning. "You look like a strong, beautiful, intelligent, very pregnant woman. More cheese?"

"No, I have to go." I paused. "But thank you. I really do appreciate it."

The next few hours were a blur of activity, yelling, organizing, keeping everything running ahead of schedule. The bride showed up every two hours to make sure everything was up to her exacting standards. Finally everything was ready. Professional up lighting and low lighting was on, tens of thousands of dollars in flowers were arranged in massive centerpieces. They even had chandeliers brought in and hung. I made my way to the grand ceremony space, wondering how seven hours had passed so quickly. The guests were mostly arrived and seated in only the best Chiavari chairs. I turned towards the Bridal Suite and quietly let myself in. The photographer was taking pictures of her bridesmaids putting on Eloise's shoes. She stood when she saw me, revealing her dress. It was a gaudy affair, overly saturated with rhinestones and sheer panels.

"What a beautiful bride!" I nearly cooed. "Such a statement dress. Just wanted to give you the fifteen minute warning you requested."

She nodded happily, turning back to the photographer. Thank goodness. Things picked up after that, the ceremony was over in the blink of an eye, then I made sure the bride was happy during photos while the guests were happy during a cocktail 'hour' that was closer to three.

After a minor meltdown over the cake's location by the bride-didn't I know she wanted the cake by the window, she must have said it a thousand times- the reception was going beautifully. The decorator apparently did a fantastic job 'artfully' scattering the rhinestones, dinner and cake had gone smoothly, and now everyone was dancing.

I looked at the bride and groom. I had little faith in the longevity of their union. Though who was I to judge, with a divorce after four years and a blackmail marriage likely to end after one, one and a half with the extension. Maybe that's why I felt so skeptical of her marriage, her wedding looked like mine, both of them. Grandiose spectacles of wealth. Hopefully her groom wouldn't suddenly stop loving her. Or surprise her with grenades after the reception.

I grabbed a piece of cake off a passing waiter's tray. Fourteen hours without food was a terrible mistake. My stomach felt uneasy. I nibbled at one corner, but the cake was too sweet. I couldn't eat it.

Suddenly there was a hand on my waist. I nearly jumped surprise.

"Hungry?" A familiar voice asked. "I have your favorite."

Milos stood next to me, blending into the crowd with his dark suit. I couldn't help but smile a little.

"You know I can't leave." I said regretfully.

"Just five minutes." Milos promised. "I have something set up for you."

I looked around the room, saw the bride in the middle of the dance floor. "I really shouldn't." I said. My stomach protested. I really needed food. "Five minutes."

We left through the service entrance, heading towards the kitchen manager's office near the rear of the hotel. It was quiet, set back from the appliances and away from the event's blaring music. Inside was a large desk and a two person round table generally used to demonstrate different linen and china settings. The round had two candles on it, and a few boxes.

"I got all your favorites." Milos said, taking my hand in his and kissing it. "Watermelon salad, spinach salad, lamb chops, stuffed peppers, and some Kolache for dessert. I left everything in containers so no smells bother you."

The pregnancy hormones were killing me. I blinked back some mistiness my eyes and coughed to loosen my suddenly tight throat.

"That's very thoughtful of you." I managed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He murmured, before lightly kissing me.

Something seemed just a little off about him, but before I could ask he was leading me to my chair and pushing it in beneath me. We each plated some food, but Milos didn't seem to actually be eating his.

"I have some news." He began. "Apparently there has been a lot of interest in my less savory pursuits. I fly out tomorrow afternoon to start sales meetings."

"Oh." My voice was so calm. I wanted to feel as easy as voice sounded. "Will you be back soon?"

"Two weeks, no more than a month. I will rush back if you go into labor."

He might miss the birth. It felt like the floor beneath my feet had somehow vanished. I'd just gotten used to him being here, and he was leaving. I was enjoying good presence, our time together. Someone who liked being around me, no matter what mood I was in.

I wanted him to be there, I realized. At the birth. I wanted someone to be there who loved me, someone who had my interests at heart. I had finally let Rafael and his Jane obsession go, Mother was in jail. Milos was all I had for support. I found myself suddenly rather nauseous, which was ridiculous since we'd barely spoken before four days ago. There was a knock at the door.

"Mrs Solano?" A nervous waiter asked, sticking his head into the room. "The bride is looking for you. She's upset."

"I'll be right there." I snapped. The waiter scurried back out. I stood abruptly, tossing my napkin over my still mostly full plate. "We should get back."

Milos nodded. "Of course."

We walked stiffly side by side back to the grand ballroom. I was immediately accosted by a nearly hysterical, very drunk Eloise.

"Can we add any time? We'll party, I mean pay, extra."

I forced a pleasant smile to my face. "Unfortunately noise ordinances prohibit digital music after midnight without a special permit. But if you can find a band or celebrate without music, you are absolutely free to continue the party until two in the morning. Alternatively, we can arrange limousines for yourself and your guests to attend a club or party playing until two."

She pouted. "Fine, set up the limo thing. We'll go at ten."

A weight lifted off my chest. A two hour reprieve, only one hour left. "Of course. I'll see to it."

The bride left and I pulled out my phone to text our on call limousine service.

"Should I go?" Milos asked politely.

"No-" I don't want you to leave. Not now, not tomorrow. "-Here's a clipboard. Hold it and look authoritative."

I looked out over the crowd, at all the people dancing without a care in the world. That had never been me. Maybe for a short time with Rafael I had gotten close, but danger and disaster had always been nearby. My constant companions. Nothing could ever be easy.

"Mrs Solano? I think your name may be outdated." His voice was teasing, trying to bring me out of the dark mood I had fallen into.

"I wasn't exactly expecting Mrs Dvoracek to be a lasting title, remember? It was easier not to change it." I shrugged noncommittally.

"And yet you wear your wedding band." He looked down at the clipboard with a smirk.

"Or maybe I get fewer dirty looks when I wear it." I offered. To my surprise, he laughed.

"Then they clearly don't know the story behind your pregnancy and marital situation."

His cocked eyebrow and wry grin was just what I needed.

"You're right, I should really take it off." I quipped back.

"Never." He growled playfully, kissing my cheek behind the clipboard I'd given him. "Maybe we can negotiate your last name upon my return?"

He subtly moved to catch my hand in his. I laced our fingers together.

"Maybe. Six months, remember?"

Moving in closer to him, I leaned against his chest. Milos dropped his chin to rest lightly on my head. He was quiet for a long while, just standing behind me. Finally he pressed a kiss to my scalp.

"I love you, Petra." His voice was tinged with something, perhaps sadness or longing. "I always have. I always will."

"I know." I murmured back, not sure if he could hear me.