Page 77 of The Bratva King's Claimed Bride

“That’s sweet of you,” I comment. “Does the gallery do lots of charity work?”

Asher looks at Penny, who looks at me. “We know what our husbands do isn’t exactly legal.” Her voice is soft. “And we know people can get hurt.”

I look between them. “So, you do charity to balance that out?”

Asher and Penny both nod. “All four of us do. Asher, myself, Hannah, and Elena. We love our husbands but don’t have to love what they do.”

I nod. “I’d never thought about it. I mean, I know Igor does some shady dealings on the side, but I never thought about it hurting anyone.”

They stare at me.

I catch myself and shake my head. “But it doesn’t matter.”

“Arina…” Asher says quietly.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” I say with a smile. “Weren’t we going shopping?”

Penny looks at Asher, then smiles at me. “Of course, let’s get going. I’m starving for some focaccia from Zeek’s. Garlic and cheese.”

We head out and walk down the road, now discussing food. We continue to talk about different restaurants we’ve tried as we try on clothes. When I’m changing behind the curtain, I look at my stomach which is starting to protrude a little. Or is it my imagination? It’s too early for that. Shit. I have to tell someone before I really do start showing.

Once we’ve paid for our clothes, we carry our parcels the three blocks to Zeek’s, where Hannah and Elena have already secured a private table for us.

We sit down, and Elena turns to me. “Hannah was just talking about having more children. I think she’s mad, dealing with the terrible twins already.”

“Anyone of us can have twins,” Penny says. “It runs in the Milov blood.”

I inwardly panic. Twins! What if I have twins?

“From Mama Milov's side,” Hannah corrects her, and I let out the breath I’m holding.

“I don’t think I could handle it if I had twins,” I say.

“I thought so, too,” Hannah smiles. “But as terrible as those two toddlers can be, they’re absolutely adorable, like their father. I wouldn’t mind two girls running around so I can dress them up in cute outfits every day.”

I haven’t considered that. Would I prefer a boy or a girl? Would I make a fit mother? How am I going to do this? I feel the anxiety building up inside me as the waitress comes over to take the drinks order.

“Does everyone want wine?” Penny asks, looking around.

“I’ll just have sparkling water,” I say; my mouth feels dry. “I need the loo. Where is it?”

Penny points to the back of the restaurant. “Right at the back past the kitchen. Can’t miss it.”

“Thanks,” I say, standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

I head through the restaurant, past the kitchen, and walk into the bathroom. I check that no one else is inside before I stand in front of the mirror and run the cold water over my face. I splash my face and then rinse out my mouth.

I lean over the basin and breathe deeply. Four in, hold for two, seven out. That’s what they used to make me do in school when I had panic attacks about going home: No, we can’t get you out of your situation. No, we can’t get you a better family.

No.

Four in, hold for two, seven out.

It calmed the anxiety, and I was glad it worked. But I’ve never known calming down to fix any situation I’ve been in. I doubt it will help now.

There is no reason to be calm.

There is every reason to panic.

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