Page 1 of The Bratva King's Pregnant Bride

Chapter 1 - Maya

I stared at my amaryllis, its one bright red flower almost glowing in the moonlight by the window. The color of the single blossom’s petals faded toward its center, first to orange, then to a gleaming white in the night. Alone and beautiful it sat amid several buds, and I let myself admire it for a second, wishing my life was as colorful as the bloom; it transcended everything beautiful in my life.

I couldn’t say I’d achieved much. No, not in this brief lifespan of mine, which has been marked with horror and tragedy. My tears have rendered me speechless, and all I really want right now is to revalidate myself—try to find some meaning to my existence.

This explained the frustration of my friends. Not that I was a crybaby; they just couldn’t figure me out. It wasn’t that I didn’t let them in, though I never let them through certain thresholds, as those parts were marked with pain and grief—both which defined who I’d become.

I moved to stand before the mirror, not really knowing what I expected to see; I had an image in my head, but the reflection in the mirror shattered even that.

I’d let my hair down tonight—literally and figuratively—and it fell down my back like a cascade of brown silk. I allowed myself a small smile; I’d put in a lot of effort to achieve its current shine, and I couldn’t say I wasn‘t satisfied with the results. Its shine brought out the glow of my skin and, coupled with the way the red dress that molded against my body, I almost didn’t recognize myself.

This woman staring out of the mirror was an exaggerated version of me, her hazel eyes ringed with black liner, high cheekbones stained with blush, and lips a glaring red. I’d often been told I have striking features, but tonight—with all the product and makeup I rarely wore—they glowed like neon signs, calling to all to notice them.

That was the point of this night, actually: to attract a man into my web. I shook my head, chuckling. Listen to me, sounding like some black widow, looking to trap my next victim! I inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet scent of my perfume as it caressed me like the hands of an invisible lover. It was a gift from my Jenna, and tonight, it was part of my armor.

The beautiful red gown, also not my choice for tonight—not that I could remember who it was from—did accentuated my curves perfectly, giving me a view of myself which I rarely appreciate.

I shifted from side to side, unsure of this outfit, unsure of myself. Left to me, all my clothes would still be on the floor as I tried to figure out what to wear. I wasn’t sure where the dress had come from—most likely, Jenna sneaked it into my wardrobe. If I asked her, though, I’m sure she would deny it.

How she was so good at picking things that fit me, I’d never understood. Besides, ever since my self-imposed, no-fun timeout, I’ve been so cut off from the world that I’ve cared about little besides school—maybe nothing.

Only this nostalgia, a crazy visit to my past, and my return to the present with this damn desire and zeal for sex which I can’t begin to explain—one I intend to satisfy tonight with Jenna’s help, hopefully with the aid of a stranger who is good in bed.

I leaned over and adjusted my dress, pushing my breasts up to display my cleavage, determined to make men drool. Standing, I checked out my backside, too, and placed both hands on my waist.

Am I doing too much?

No, I decided—I looked good, and it was a great confidence booster. I’d worn ridiculously high heels, which always made me feel power-drunk—despite my short stature—like I ruled the world. That was the feeling I needed tonight.

I needed to feel special. To feel wanted. I was beautiful, I knew that much, but it had been a long time since I’d paid any attention to the fact.

My mind has been solely focused on earning my Criminal Justice degree, and law degrees were time consuming, bloodsucking. Parties, get-togethers— they‘d become a thing of the past. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d truly indulged myself.

Oh, there are better things to life, alright. At least, I’ve always felt that. But tonight, I wanted more than a little distraction, and I was hoping tonight would be more than worth the effort I’d put into my appearance.

My toe started tapping. I wanted to dance. Like, really dance. I wanted my body to sway to the beat like part of the rhythm. I wanted to feel the reverb deep within my soul as it echoed off the walls of my past, shaking everything. I wanted electric. I wanted a night to remember—I didn’t car what it took. I cared not if it was just for a heartbeat, or if would stretch through time.

I wanted it.

Normally, I wouldn’t have even considered going… but ever since Jenna made the suggestion, accompanied by the fact that I felt I was getting too old to keep dragging the ‘virgin’ ball and chain around my ankle everywhere I went, I decided to take the opportunity. All my girlfriends had lost theirs years ago, and the stories of their nightly escapades intrigued me. I wanted to know what it felt like to have sex. Great sex. Perfect, mind-blowing sex.

So I was just going to have to find out for myself.

I put on a plush leather jacket to conceal the upper part of the gown, and just then, I heard a familiar car honk outside—Jenna’s Audi A8; luxurious though it is, it’s more of a legacy now. Oh, it was still in perfect condition, and I loved to rub myself all over the leather seats from time to time, but its history was something I loved to tease my friend about.

Jenna spotted my head peering out of the window, and she rolled down the passenger window, waving.

“Come on—we’re going to be late!” she called, raising both hands in the air.

I pulled my head back inside and wondered if anyone could really be ‘late’ for an all-night party. Unless, of course, she doesn’t want me to miss the best parts; if so, that would be fair.

I looked around my room for my essentials and found my phone and purse seated together by the edge of the bed.

Snatching both, I walked out of my one-bedroom apartment and locked the door behind me. Mrs. Baker, the caretaker, would most definitely be in bed by now, so there was no need to wake her up just to tell her I’d be out all night.

I took the stairs to the ground floor, shoving my phone into the purse, then stepped into the moonlight.

Suddenly unsure, I walked in the dress like it didn’t belong to me. My legs struggled like strangers to high heels.

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