Taming the Tyrant (Book Boyfriends For the Holidays)

Chapter 2

Everything tasted terrible for the last few days; therefore, I paid no mind that the tea tasted like dish soap. I counted this down to hormonal changes due to the pregnancy. I sighed and drank the balance of it, placing the empty cup in the saucer on the coffee table. Thankfully I was not having morning sickness just yet. But the headaches, fatigue, and distaste of all foods that I loved was getting to me. I only ate for survival and not because I enjoyed it. I had lost a few pounds because I had no appetite.

I was meeting the wedding planner today for the first time and I was looking forward to having someone to talk to. Kiev’s wife had been a bit warmer since my return and had made conversations with me since a few nights ago. It was still early to call her a friend, but I believed we would get along well in future.

The downside was that I could not get a hold of Zakhar and that worried me. He was due back soon and I hadn’t spoken to him since returning to Russia. This was unlike him not to keep in touch or answer my calls. I felt that something was wrong.

“Madam?” the butler came in, breaking the silence in the room. “Miss Dunbar is here.”

“Thank you. Please send her in.”

“As you wish Madam.”

Donicia Dunbar was an upcoming wedding planner in the city. She being born and raised in the US was a plus for me as it gave me someone who I could connect with. A brunette with light brown eyes, around my age and height, she was very elegant and pretty. Although she was white, she didn’t look surprise to realize I was black and that made me relax around her.

We chatted about my plans for the wedding; colors, themes, decorations, food, cake, everything. The butler brought in tea and scones which we had while we talked. I couldn’t get over the fact that this tea tasted normal as opposed to the one from earlier which the kitchen staff had prepared. I counted it down to my hormones as I was certain the staff would never do anything that would put their jobs at risk. They knew that Zakhar was not to be messed with.

The day went well, and I was feeling better about planning this wedding now that I had someone else to assist me. Donicia was great, and I saw that we would become great friends in the process. She promised to keep in touch with me every day and I was looking forward to that happening.

My only concern now was that I still was unable to reach my husband, which was strange because he’d never not be reachable before. His cell phone seemed to be off all the time now and that too was unusual.

I began to worry that Nathan had done something to my husband since he’d gone to Indonesia to have a meeting with the executives there. That’s where Nathan had been transferred to three years ago. However, recently that division had seen great losses to the business and Zakhar was thinking of closing the office there.

The next few days were spent with me worrying about Zakhar as well as increased discomfort in my tummy, and the loss of appetite – which was worse than before.

Four days later…

Donicia came by to see me and to present me with a few color swatches to choose from. As per her promise, she’d kept me abreast of her progress every day since our meeting.

“Mrs. Mikhailov …”

“Please, I told you before, it’s Tabitha.”

She smiled and nodded. “Tabitha, you should see the doctor. You don’t look so good.”

“My physician says it’s normal for pregnant women to have these symptoms.”

Reaching over, she took my hand. “Oh.”

I didn’t like her tone. It made me unsure and even more anxious. She wasn’t being rude, but her tone told me that she didn’t trust the doctor. We were sitting on the sofa in the main living room. The electric fireplace was ablaze, warming the room while snow flurries fell outside. It was two weeks before Christmas, and the temperature was minus three. Someone was making American Christmas cookies and the scent wafted through to the living area. The scent was delicious and warm.

The red, white, and silver décor in the living room gave off a festive feel. However, the nagging feeling that something was wrong, took away from it. I wished I could enjoy all the pomp and fare that was being put into the holidays, especially since I knew they were going the extra mile on my behalf. But I couldn't. Donicia and I were enjoying a glass of fresh warm apple cider, and she commented on how delicious the drink was. Yet, mine was like cleaning chemical.

“Do you have a personal physician I can see?” I asked in a low tone. “The one I’m seeing now is the family physician.”

“I’m sure he’s excellent.”

“I’m sure he is, but I should get a second opinion, don’t you think?”

She leaned closer to me. “Say no more. But I don’t think you should tell anyone. It may upset the family.”

We arranged for Donicia to pick me up the following day, in the guise we were doing wedding stuff. The only person I talked to about seeing another doctor was Linda, and she was all the way in the United States.

She picked me up after breakfast and took me to a private clinic outside the city. Yaroslavl was beautiful and tranquil, at least the area where Donicia took me. The female doctor was an American and the nursing staff spoke English well. I was relieved that I could speak freely without stuttering a language I was in the process of learning. I insisted that Donicia accompany me to the doctor’s office, and we sat while Dr. Bolton read the chart which I had written up when I came in.

“You’ve lost your appetite?” she asked. “That is quite normal in your situation.”

“I know doctor, but why is it that only happens when I am home?”

Her head snapped up and she looked at me with a frown. “It doesn't happen when you eat out?”

I shook my head. “No. Especially the drinks.”

“Could it be the water from home? You live on the Mikhailov estate. Perhaps the water system there isn’t the same as the US?”

“Yes, but that only started happening as soon as I became pregnant.”

“Hmm,” she murmured. “Why don’t we do this. You need to eat, for the two of you. I need you to eat outside for three days. Anything you need … for three days. And then eat something from home again. Then you call me and tell me if the food taste different.”

I sighed. I have had the gut feeling that something was wrong, but I pushed it aside before. Now, I wasn’t so sure that my meals were prepared with the best intentions. The last time I tried to prepare something, I was scolded and told that Mr. Mikhailov would be upset that they allowed me to cook. So, I dropped it.

The doctor gave me some over the counter recommendations for taking in case I experienced any nausea. Another recommendation was drinking ginger tea. But, I could see in her eyes that she felt something amiss with my meals. I didn’t feel sick like I was being poisoned. Or maybe it was a slow working concoction. I didn’t know what to think. But my trust in the cooking staff weakened.

Donicia was very supportive as a friend. She was like someone I’d known for a while. We stopped and picked up food and snacks on our way back and she stayed with me all day. My suite was like a small apartment where I had everything to my comfort. There was a large living area with a tiny corner with a fridge, sink and countertop. I had a coffee pot and microwave. The only thing missing was a stove. I didn’t have to leave the suite if I didn’t have to.

“I want to check something,” she whispered to me when she followed me to the bedroom.

“What’s that?”

“Call for some tea.”

“Okay.”

I picked up the phone on my nightstand and called the butler, requesting tea. I just hung up the phone when I felt a cramp in my belly. I closed my eyes and winced. The pain was greater than the last time and I doubled over, falling to the floor.

“Tabitha!” Donicia called, rushing over to me. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, just gas,” I breathed wanting to gag.

“Come over to the bed,” she urged.

Through the pain I scrambled to the bathroom with Donicia supporting me. I brought up whatever food I had that morning into the toilet bowl. This was the first time I vomited since being pregnant and I was tempted to go into panic mode, but I held it together. Made no sense panicking now. I knew I was in denial when I told myself that this was just morning sickness, but it was the only thing that was keeping me sane at the moment.

With her assistance we returned to the bed where I lay on the pillow, feeling weak and sick to my stomach. Just around that time the butler knocked at door. Donicia called for him to enter, which he did, coming and placing a tray on the side table. He took the gold color cup and brought it to me, and then returned to bring the blue cup to Donicia. She took it and thanked him. He left us alone shortly and she went over to the table, tasting the tea and setting the cup down.

“Why don’t they serve the tea in a pot?” she asked. “Why is it poured out from the kitchen?”

It never occurred to me to wonder such things as I’d never drank so much tea in the US. And I usually just pour my own coffee from the kitchen. Donicia came over and took my cup, bringing it to her lips. The face she made was telling and my heart started pounding dreadfully.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Your tea is different from mine,” she replied. “Your tea tastes like chemicals, and I’m not pregnant. I need a small bottle or something.”

After thinking for a minute, I told her there was an aspirin container in the bathroom cabinet that she could use. It had only a few aspirins and she could throw those out and rinse the container. Again, like the last time, the pain had subsided, but Donicia insisted I stay in bed. She went into the bathroom and returned a few minutes later with the bottle in which she poured some of my tea. She dumped the rest in the bathroom sink.

“Aren’t’ there cameras?” she asked. “You should have someone check the footage for the culprit.”

“There are no cameras inside the manor, only on the outside.”

“That sucks,” she said. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you. I hope your husband returns soon. You need him right now.”

“You’re such a good friend. I’m glad we met,” I told her, my eyes welling with tears.

She put the container inside her bag and came over to the bed. “I’m also glad we met. I don’t have any friends here as well and it’s been hard for me, since my fiancé and I broke up.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, reaching for her hand. “Did you two come here together?”

“He was Russian, and since my grandparents were born here, I thought it was a good idea to emigrate, to get to know my roots. But they passed away shortly after I arrived. I found out my fiancé had another family, so I broke up with him.”

I sat up on the bed and hugged her. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here. You’ve been nothing but a great friend and I appreciate you.”

“Thank you. I am so glad I met you as well. I like you a lot.”

“Me too.”

It was a good moment for two people who barely knew each other. The start of a new friendship was what I needed at the moment. Getting to know and like each other was one of the best parts and I was looking forward to it.