Page 53 of The Bratva Bosses' Surrogate

“What are you all doing here?” she asks, a faint smile playing on her lips despite her obvious discomfort.

I finally speak up. “She got food poisoning.”

Viktor, never one to miss a chance for teasing, chimes in with a smirk. “You took her to a bad restaurant, didn’t you?”

I roll my eyes at him, unable to muster the energy for a proper comeback. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I was worried it was something with the baby,” I admit, running a hand through my hair, the relief making me feel slightly light-headed.

Sofia’s gaze softens as she looks at me, then shifts to Ivan and Viktor. “You guys really dropped everything just for me?”

Maxym, usually the stoic one, cracks a small smile. “Of course. Plus, we couldn’t let Ivan handle all the hospital paperwork on his own. He’d probably end up declaring war on the nurses.”

The room fills with laughter, the tension finally breaking. Sofia’s condition, while uncomfortable, isn’t serious, and knowing she’s going to be okay lifts a weight off my shoulders I hadn’t fully acknowledged was there.

“Thank you, all of you,” Sofia says, her voice thick with emotion. “But next time, maybe just a nice home-cooked meal, okay?”

“Deal,” I promise, reaching for her hand and squeezing it gently. “No more fancy restaurants for a while.”

“You guys are exaggerating. I’m just fine!” She tries to wave off our concern, but none of us are buying it. Not after the scare she gave us.

“Yeah, because doubling over in pain is your version of ‘fine’,” I retort, keeping my voice light but I can’t mask the underlying worry.

Viktor leans against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. “Next time, I’m cooking. At least my food doesn’t land people in the hospital.”

I add, “We’ll need a food taster then. Just in case.” This deadpan delivery earns a chuckle from Sofia, and even Maxym cracks a smile.

“See? This is why I love you guys. You turn a hospital visit into a comedy show,” Sofia says, her laughter filling the room, easing the tension that’s been clinging to my insides.

I move closer, taking her hand in mine. Her skin is warm, her grip firm. “No more scares like that, okay? You’re too important to us.”

Her eyes meet mine, that familiar spark of defiance there. “I don’t plan my scares, Ivan. But I’ll try to keep them to a minimum.”

Viktor chimes in again, “Good, because my heart can’t take this drama. I’m too old.”

“You’re not old, you’re just poorly preserved,” Sofia fires back.

We laugh, then silence falls again.

“Make me a promise?” Sofia’s voice breaks through the silence, carrying a mix of jest and earnestness. Around the room, the atmosphere shifts as everyone tunes in, sensing the shift. “No hospital food. I’m convinced it’s a health hazard all on its own.”

I settle back, a half-smile playing on my lips as I meet her gaze. “Consider it done. Next time, I’m on chef duty. Just... maybe keep your expectations in check, alright? Gourmet isn’t exactly my style.”

“Is that a promise?” Her question lingers in the air, tinged with a playful doubt which belies her genuine concern over my notorious kitchen exploits.

Laughing softly, I lean in closer, the moment feeling lighter, more intimate. “You questioning my kitchen prowess?” I tease, hoping to see the sparkle in her eyes, that look I’ve come to cherish.

She meets my gaze, a smile dancing on her lips, a silent acknowledgment of our shared moments, our inside jokes, and the comfort we find in them. “I suppose I’ll have to trust you then,” she says, her voice a soft whisper that somehow speaks volumes, drawing a silent vow from me to always keep that trust intact.

“Maybe I should feed you myself,” I suggest, my tone dangerously sweet as I release her chin and sit back again.

Maxym snorts near me, his gaze flitting over to Sofia before settling back onto me. “If you’re cooking, we might as well hire an ambulance beforehand.”

“I’m not that bad,” I retort smoothly, though inside I’m grinning like a madman.

“You just only know how to use a knife for one thing,” Viktor mocks from the other side of the room.

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” I shrug nonchalantly. “I can do more things with a knife...but you guys wouldn’t want to see it or taste it.”

I get up from my chair and take the two steps toward Sofia’s bed, my mind filled with dark thoughts about her under different circumstances – tied up and helpless under me while I show her just how much power a knife can hold.

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