Page 95 of Baby for the Bratva

A warm smile spreads over her face, and her blue eyes twinkle like Stella’s do. She turns and waves at me to follow her. “Come inside, then, young man. I made apple pie. I’m sure they don’t have that in Russia. Or maybe they do…”

“I’m sure what you’ve made is better,” I assure her, looking over at Stella again for support.

She nods, a smile never leaving her lovely face as we step inside.

The house is warm and smells like apples and cinnamon, a far cry from the smoke and tobacco I’m used to. It’s a nice change, and I instantly feel comfortable as Stella’s mom makes a place on the couch in the living room for me.

“I’ll be right back with the pie,” she says, hurrying off and leaving Stella and me alone.

I lace my fingers together on my lap, sitting with my legs together. The couch is small for how large I am, and my shins bump up against the coffee table.

“You look like you’re at the principal’s office,” Stella whispers, leaning forward with a wild look in her eyes. “But you know what? My mom didn’t even blink when I told her you were my fiancé. Totally chill.”

Right… chill. I wouldn’t consider anything about this situation chill, but Stella is having a blast. I think I’d rather be in a war zone than in her mother’s living room. At least then, I wouldn’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing and getting cast out of the family.

Where I come from, a good first impression with the family is essential. You don’t even get to decide whether you’re going to marry the girl you fell in love with. That’s for her father to decide.

Here and now, things work a little differently, but I still feel the pressure to look good for Stella’s mom. I need her approval, especially since we’re planning on announcing Stella’s pregnancy today.

“Be sure to compliment the whipped cream,” Stella whispers, leaning in again. “She makes it herself.”

I nod, straightening up as Stella’s mom returns with a plate in each hand. The smell is incredible, and I doubt I’ll need to be told to compliment it. If it tastes anything like it looks, it’s bound to be the best pie I’ve ever had.

“Thank you so much,” I say as I take a plate and fork.

“Mom, why didn’t you get some for yourself?” Stella asks.

Her mom shakes her head. “No, no, you two go ahead and eat. I had a piece already.”

I don’t need to be told twice. I barely ate anything on the plane, and I didn’t want to stop anywhere on the way here. I simply don’t enjoy fast food the way Americans do, but I do enjoy a homemade apple pie.

The first bite is an explosion of flavor, and I find myself having to stop myself from scarfing it all down before Stella’s mom has even taken a seat with us.

“The… the whipped cream is really good. I mean, the whole thing is,” I say, stumbling over my words.

“I’m glad you like it. You can have as much as you like. I baked a whole pie,” she replies.

Stella laughs. “Mom, don’t make him eat all of that. He’s going to be sick.”

“He’s a big man. I’m sure he could handle a couple of slices.”

“Right,” I say, pointing at her mom. “Listen to her. This pie is too good not to have more.”

Stella’s mom springs to her feet. “Oh, I’ll get you another piece. Just wait right here.”

“Mom, you don’t need to…” Stella shakes her head, laughing through her nose before looking at me. “You’re going to get her all worked up. She will keep feeding you if you keep eating. And by that, I mean she’ll make us stay for lunch and then also dinner.”

I shrug, finishing the last bite of pie on my plate. “I don’t mind.”

Stella opens her mouth to reply when the sound of a loud car engine breaks the peace in the living room. It’s callously out of place in such a quiet neighborhood, and by the way Stella’s smile drops from her face, I can tell it’s something I should give my attention to.

“What’s that?” I ask, turning to look out the window. I can barely see the driveway from where I’m sitting, but I can hear a car idling there.

My stomach drops, and everything I’ve ever feared coming true erupts in my mind.

Could it be a bounty hunter, unaware that the bounty has vanished with the businessman who set it?

Or perhaps it’s the police, finally come to arrest me and deport me to Brazil to face charges for my crimes in their country?

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