Page 63 of Baby for the Bratva

I’ll have to ask Yuri how he justifies it all. He appears heartless on the surface, but I know he has a moral compass. Something inside of him guides him to show empathy toward innocent people. He only acts aggressively toward people who are out to hurt him or the people he cares about.

He displays that empathy as he holds his hand out to help me up the last step. I smile, my cheeks glowing hot with excitement as we enter the main dining area. I’m blown away by the beauty of the place, string lights that glow like fireflies and tables sculpted up from the floor like they grew there naturally.

I’m blown away that something like this can even exist. It’s like something out of a dream you’d have as a child, and yet it’s real. I’m seeing it with my own eyes, but trying to explain it to anybody back home would be impossible.

It’s like a secret I don’t want to keep, but I have no choice because nobody would believe me if I told them.

“Our table is there, close to the edge,” Yuri says, pointing to a private little table in the corner of the room.

There are a few other couples here, people who look like they shower in diamonds and towel themselves dry with hundred-dollar bills. I’m happy to say that I don’t stand out in my beautiful dress. It’s actually Yuri who doesn’t quite fit in, with his muscular build and tattoos on his large knuckles. Even his slim black suit can’t hide the power and danger lurking beneath it.

He pulls a chair out for me, and it doesn’t make any sound at all against the live jazz band playing in the center of the room. It slides like it’s on ice, and I find it very easy to adjust myself to be close to the table. I have a terrible habit of dropping food in my lap otherwise, and I’d hate to ruin such a gorgeous dress.

Even though I don’t look out of place, I still feel a bit awkward as a bowl is placed between us, some kind of rose-scented liquid poured in, and little white pellets tossed in after it. Without an explanation, we’re left alone again, and I look to Yuri for guidance.

“It’s for cleaning your hands,” he says, taking one of the pellets and unfolding it to reveal that it’s a dehydrated cloth.

I laugh a bit too loudly. It’d be like something out of a movie if I drank the rose water like it was soup.

Yuri smiles warmly as I take the other cloth and clean my hands with it. The water smells so much like roses that it feels like we’re sitting in a garden in the middle of summer. I’m reluctant to finish cleaning my hands and put the cloth back into the water.

“You look like an angel tonight,” Yuri says, his voice deep and appreciative. “I’m really glad you came out here with me.”

Even though he’s looked at me like this a hundred times before, I still blush when his eyes meet mine. They hold such a powerful sharpness that’s difficult to get used to. There’s something threatening about it, but also so intense that it’s addicting.

I melt into my seat, whispering a quiet thank you before the waiter comes back and takes away the bowl of rose water. Yuri’s eyes are still on me, sparkling from the string lights hanging overhead.

“This place is so nice,” I say, trying to cut through the tension between us. Every time we’re alone, or have the illusion of being alone, it gets like this. My body feels drawn to him, but I’m always afraid. I don’t know why, but the idea of having sex with him again is almost scary.

Why? Because it will intensify my emotions toward him, and I don’t want to fall in love with Yuri. Inevitably, it will result in a broken heart and more tears than I have in me to cry.

Yuri is the opposite of afraid, though. He’s coming into this like nothing could possibly go wrong. His confidence is infectious, but it’s also a reason to resist him. He’s not thinking clearly. Neither of us are, and that’s a tragedy waiting to happen.

“It’s quite nice. I know a few more places like this in the States, if you ever want to check those out,” Yuri says.

“Do you ever feel bad about it?” I ask, twisting my fingers together under the table. “Like, there are people struggling, and we’re enjoying the utmost luxury.”

“I was struggling,” he replies, rubbing his chin. “And so were you, even if you didn’t realize it. I have a different view of the world than many people, so perhaps you won’t agree with me on this, but if you really want to enjoy this level of luxury, it’s possible for most people.”

“You really think so?” I ask, curious how he’s able to come to such a bold conclusion.

He nods slowly, rubbing his chin as he fishes for the right words. “There are some people who wouldn’t be able to, I suppose. It does take a certain willingness to break the rules, and also the ability to be clever at times. I suppose it comes down to whether you believe in free will.”

I laugh. “Well, of course. That’s how we’re here.”

He shrugs. “If you take a purely scientific approach, free will can’t be so easily proven. In that case, no, not everyone can be wealthy. In fact, only a few people can, and they inevitably are, independent of their background.”

“But you believe in free will, then,” I challenge.

“Yes,” he says, tilting his head up and looking past the branches overhead at the darkening sky. “I believe there’s something more, but I’m not at liberty to say what that something is.”

“It makes sense to me that there’s something greater than us, but I never really thought beyond that,” I say.

He looks back down at me and smiles. “Before I met you, I suspected there might be, but now I know there is.”

Butterflies erupt in my belly, and my heart slams in my chest so hard it hurts. Suddenly, the room doesn’t seem stable or still at all. The sound of the brass instruments are screaming in my ears, and my mind is moving so fast I can’t keep up with it.

I’m stunned, for lack of a better way to put it. Everything in me is unable to function for a few seconds until I get my breathing under control.

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