Maria
Dominika appears with my food. The silver tray is loaded with food—a bowl of vegetable soup, a toasted artisan roll, and a generous portion of roasted chicken on a plate surrounded by grilled vegetables.
The smell of hot soup fills the room, followed by the aroma of garlic and rosemary from the chicken. My stomach gurgles as the delicious aroma invades my nose. I'm so hungry, and even if I wasn't, the baby needs something. I stare at the tempting tray, and my stomach gurgles loudly as I stand up.
A glass of chilled white wine accompanies the meal.
I stare at Dominika. She knows my secret, so why did she make that mistake?
"Can I have tea?" I ask her. "And I would prefer to eat in my room."
"No," Mikhail tells Dominika as she reaches for the tray. "I want to make sure she eats i
