Despite my earlier thoughts, I can’t help smiling. Goldberg must’ve let something slip, or else Ana overheard us talking this morning. That’s why Ana’s smile is wide enough to swallow up her whole face: she knows about Nora’s pregnancy and is overjoyed at the news.

At Nora’s reassurance, Ana’s expression brightens even more. “Oh, good. I realize now that you must’ve been baby-sick yesterday. It happens, you know,” she says in a conspiratorial tone. “Right around six weeks is when they say it starts.”

“Oh, great.” Nora tries to keep the glumness out of her voice, but she’s not entirely successful. “Looking forward to it.”

“I’ll make sure you have the best care, baby,” I murmur, reaching across the table to cover Nora’s delicate hand with mine. “I’ll get you whatever you need to feel well.”

I already contacted the obstetrician Goldberg recommended, emailing her while Nora was having her examination. I might not have planned to have this child, but now that it’s here, the thought of something happening to it is unbearable. When Goldberg hinted at the possibility of abortion today, it was all I could do not to rip his throat out.

Planned or not, this child is my flesh and blood, and I’ll kill anyone who tries to harm it.

Nora gives me a small smile. “I’m sure it will be fine. Women have children all the time.” Despite her reassuring words, her voice sounds strained, and I know she’s still uneasy with this development.

Uneasy with the fact that she’s carrying my baby.

Taking a deep breath, I suppress the instinctive swell of anger. On a rational level, I understand her fear. Nora loves me, but she’s not blind to my nature.

She can’t be, especially after last night.

“Yes, it will be fine,” I say evenly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. “I’ll make sure of it.”

And for the remainder of the meal, we avoid the topic, both of us more than happy to focus on something else.

I spend the rest of the day with Nora, completely ignoring the work that’s waiting for me. For the first time in ages, I can’t bring myself to care about manufacturing issues in Malaysia or the fact that the Mexican cartel is demanding lower prices on customized machine guns. The Ukrainians are trying to make amends and bribe me out of my alliance with the Russians, Interpol is up in arms about the CIA sending me Peter Sokolov’s list, a new terrorist group in Iraq wants to get on the waiting list for the explosive, and I don’t give a fuck about any of that.

All that matters to me today is Nora.

After lunch, we go for a walk around the estate, and I show her some of my favorite boyhood haunts, including a small lake on the edge of the property where I once encountered a jaguar.

“Really? A jaguar?” Nora’s eyes are wide as we exit the forested area and emerge onto a small, grassy clearing in front of the lake. The tall trees surrounding it provide both shade and privacy from the guards—which is why I frequently spent time there as a child.