Page 11 of The Bratva Queens' Kings

"In that case," I say, trying to keep my voice steady and my emotions in check, "I'll make sure we're all prepared for what comes next."

I take another sip of my drink, the alcohol burning a path down my throat and into my stomach.

"We need to think about how we're going to hide this from everyone. It's not exactly going to be easy to conceal."

I lean back, swirling the drink in my glass, the ice clinking against the sides. The thought of hiding Lana's pregnancy, of all the lies and deceit that'll involve, doesn't sit well with me. Not because I'm above lying — far from it. But because every part of this situation makes my skin crawl with possessiveness. The very idea that I'm sharing this, sharing her with Roman and Grigori, gnaws at me. I never wanted this polyamorous complication. But if that's what Lana wants, if that's what she needs...

"We'll figure it out," I say finally, my voice firm, betraying none of the tumult inside. "There are ways to keep things under wraps. We've managed more delicate situations before."

"How? How will we figure it out?"

I launch into a detailed explanation, outlining every step of the plan to keep her pregnancy under wraps. From loose clothing and strategic public appearances to potential storylines we might need to spin for those prying eyes too close to our inner circle.

But Lana, ever the one to cut straight to the heart of the matter, stops me mid-ramble. Her hands come up to my face, pulling me to look directly into her eyes, demanding my full attention. "I'm not talking about... hiding the baby."

The world seems to slow down, my heart rate dropping as our faces inch closer.

"I'm talking about you... and me."

"Lana, you know how I feel about you," I start, my voice low, each word laced with the intensity of my emotions. "This... thing between us, it's always been complicated."

She brushes my hair back from my forehead, her fingers lingering on my skin as she looks into my eyes. I feel a jolt of electricity, my heart racing at the mere touch of her. "We can't keep running from this, Luca. We owe it to ourselves and to the baby to face it head-on."

I swallow hard, her words hitting me like a hurricane, leaving me breathless and vulnerable. "And if it's not mine?"

Lana's eyes soften, her expression filled with empathy and understanding. "If it's not yours, then it's Roman's or Grigori's. But either way, it doesn't change the fact that we have to support each other and the life we're creating, regardless of who the father is."

"Lana, I stand with you. Always," I say, the words a vow, a promise I intend to keep, no matter the cost. "Whatever this is between us, we'll figure it out. Together."

Chapter 7

Lana

Slipping into this dress, black as sin and looser from the waist down, feels like I'm donning armor. Julia's the one who pushed it, saying it'd help keep the baby bump under wraps. Not that there's much to hide yet, but she's got this mother hen thing down to an art form. Normally, I'd balk at wearing black — too somber, too predictable for my taste — but tonight, with a swipe of red lipstick? I'm feeling it. It's like I'm channeling some old Hollywood noir vibe, ready to face whatever this godforsaken party throws at me.

And let's be clear: this party's a minefield, not a soirée. More enemies than friends, if the term 'friends' even applies in our world. Roman's here, playing the part of my "date" or escort, whichever title gives him less of a headache. And Grigori? He's lurking around the edges, eyes sharp for any sign of trouble. Trust me, in our line of business, trouble's not just expected; it's a guarantee.

As we step into the dimly lit hall, the air thick with anticipation and the subtle undercurrent of danger, I can't help but scan the crowd. Politicians rubbing elbows with mobsters, businessmen making deals with the devil in tailored suits — it's a veritable who's who of the city's underbelly. And here I am, the queen of this damned chessboard, with my knights flanking me.

Roman leans in, his voice a low murmur in my ear. "Remember, we're just here to show face. In and out."

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. "I know the drill, Roman. Doesn't mean I can't enjoy the party."

Roman, ever the charmer, peels off to engage some of Perez's underlings. It's a strategic move, drawing attention away from me as I zero in on a more intriguing target: Bella, Perez's mistress.

Bella's exactly what you'd expect from someone in her role. Late 20s, brunette, dressed in what she probably thinks is high fashion but screams escort. Not that I'm judging; we all play the cards we're dealt. But Perez? I'd have thought he'd aim higher. Then again, men like him aren't exactly looking for a partner; they're looking for an accessory.

Bella's eyes light up with a mix of surprise and something akin to mischief as she spots me navigating the crowd. "Lana! I wasn't expecting to see you here tonight."

Her tone suggests it's a social faux pas on my part for turning up unannounced, as if my presence at this snake pit of a party is the evening's biggest surprise. I can't help but admire her audacity; it takes a certain kind of boldness to play innocent in our world.

"And miss the chance to mingle with the city's finest?" I retort, offering her a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Her laugh, a high-pitched, calculated sound, fills the space between us. "Oh, darling, you always were one for sarcasm. But seriously, you look... radiant. Is that a new dress?"

She eyes me up and down, her gaze lingering just a bit too long for casual observation. It's clear she's trying to unearth secrets, peeling back layers she has no business touching. But then, that's Bella. Always probing, always prying.

"Just something I threw on," I lie smoothly, the black dress anything but a last-minute choice. "You know how it is. Can never be too underdressed for these things."

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