Page 58 of The Bratva's Forbidden Pregnancy

He pulled me closer and gently kissed my lips. I hesitated, but eventually, I kissed him back, finding comfort in his arms.

He withdrew and looked at me. Then, he said, “I’ll marry you.”

My eyes widened in surprise. This was the most shocking thing I’d heard all week. “What?”

“I’ll marry you,” he repeated.

“Vlad….”

“I can’t have a child out of wedlock, Sienna. I’m a traditional Russian man, a firm believer in the old ways, and as such, I can’t have a bastard,” he explained, looking me dead in the eyes. “So, you’re going to become my wife, and we’re gonna raise this kid together,” he said with finality.

I was speechless, my mouth agape as I stared at him. His confidence was admirable, but even if I decided to marry him, there was still one obstacle that he hadn’t yet considered: my parents.

Shit just got real.

Chapter 18 – Vlad

Dinner at my place started out with an awkward silence as Paul sat across from me at the table, eyes on his plate.

The air was filled with the sounds of clinking cutlery, thick with a subtle unease and heavy with the weight of unspoken words.

Occasionally, he would jerk his eyes and glance in my direction and then return to his meal, which he seemed to be enjoying.

I had invited him over to my place so we could discuss the current situation on ground: the thing with me and his daughter. But I hadn’t brought it up yet.

We’d been eating for the past ten to fifteen minutes, and neither of us had said anything to the other except for the few words of pleasantries we’d exchanged when he honored my invitation.

“This is good,” he said finally, chewing on the bacon in his mouth. “You make it?” He grinned faintly.

That was a clear play on words, maybe to ease the tension that hovered over us like a dark cloud on a rainy day.

“Yes, I did,” came my reply, indulging him.

“I see.” He sipped out of his wine glass. “If you’re a chef, then I’m the director of NASA.”

I laughed lightly. “Your lie is super glaring.”

“You started it.”

I’d missed this: casually talking to my childhood friend. It was nice, and now, I was about to ruin it with this news, this bombshell. This was tougher than I’d thought, and my brain had abandoned me the moment Paul walked in.

“Strange,” he said, looking around.

“What is?” I asked, knowing exactly what was on his mind.

Paul had worked for me at the Bratva in the past; the legal matters were his area of expertise, though—nothing more, nothing less. Being a member of the brotherhood meant he had to pick up on a few things. For instance, paying fucking attention to his surroundings.

I had dismissed my bodyguards and asked my maids to spread out to other parts of the house before his arrival. So, it was rather empty here today, no external voices, no third party, nothing. It was just the two of us. I knew this meeting would not end well, and no one else had to witness it; it wasn’t their fucking business.

“Where’s everyone?” he asked, his eyes roaming the house. “I don’t even see Simon around, and he never leaves your side.”

“I didn’t want anyone disturbing us,” I said dismissively.

He cast a suspicious gaze at me but said nothing, even though I knew he had something to say about it. There was a lot on his mind; that much I could tell. He might be dealing with a lot, like every other man catering for his family. But it was beyond that; he seemed worried about something.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I should be asking you that,” he said. “You were the one who invited me over.”

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