Page 84 of The Bratva's Forbidden Pregnancy

He stopped in his steps and looked back at her. “Yes?”

“Would you stay for dinner?” she asked.

“I…uhh….” He was speechless. “I wouldn’t want to impose.” He looked at me.

“She wants you to stay for dinner,” I chipped in. “Do you really want to turn her down?”

“Not in a million years,” he replied.

She smiled. “It’s settled, then.”

Andy walked back to the living and joined us. There, we talked at length on random subjects with Sienna at the forefront of the conversations.

It was all worth it to see my wife so happy.

Epilogue – Sienna

“Oh, my God, this is magnificent!” Ms. Crowley said to me, her eyes widening in astonishment as she gazed at a portrait on the wall.

“I call it ‘Love in the dark,’” I replied with a smile, standing by her side.

She smiled back. “It’s amazing, Sienna.”

This was one of the many praises I’d received since the opening about an hour ago.

My husband, ever supportive, had encouraged my passion for art these past three years, and now that I was done with school, we decided that it was time to take a step forward. I’d always envisioned owning an art gallery just like Fiona’s cousin, Nightingale.

Vlad thought it was a fantastic idea and funded the whole thing from start to finish. He said all I had to do was create my beautiful designs.

“You focus on doing what you do best. Leave the rest to me,” his voice resounded in my head.

Today, my dream was a reality; we were all gathered here at my exclusive art exhibition at the Wolkov private galley, where my art was being showcased on the walls.

The expansive space was filled with the elites of society, the who’s who and art enthusiasts, all dressed to impress. Vlad, being a well-connected man in the city, had his own guests; mafia members, politicians, philanthropists, Hollywood stars, and a few other public figures.

Waiters moved amidst the crowd with trays of champagne and canapés in their hands. As one walked by, I reached out and helped myself to a glass, hoping a couple of sips would help ease my nerves.

“You know, drinking at your own art exhibition isn’t really a good idea.”

I knew I recognized that voice, that smooth English laced with a Russian accent. A smile brightened my face, and I turned to face the speaker. “Sasha?” My brows rose. The last time I’d seen my cousin was three years ago when I first visited St. Petersburg.

“Surprise!” She embraced me. “Oh, my God! Look at you.” She checked me out from head to toe.

“You haven’t aged a day since the last time I saw you,” Dmitry said, joining us, clad in a fine jacket over a pair of jeans.

“This is a pleasant surprise.” I chuckled, unable to uncontrol my excitement.

“Yeah, we figured since we missed the wedding, we wouldn’t miss this, too,” he replied, hand tucked in his pocket.

“How’s Babushka and the rest of the family?” I asked.

“Who are you calling the rest of the family?” a familiar voice chimed in from behind me.

My heart was about to explode from my chest as I slowly turned to face the speaker. “Aunt Natasha!”

“For the fifteenth hundredth time, honey, it’s just Natasha—I’m not that old.” She smiled widely, pulling me into her arms. “Come here!”

She was Dad’s older sister, but she seemed to have aged in reverse since the last time I’d been in Russia. My hot aunt embraced me tightly, a testament of how much she’d missed me and vice versa. I had never been so happy to see my relatives.

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