Page 53 of Arranged to Marry the Bratva

The moment we step outside the doctor's office, a gust of cold wind hits my face, but it does nothing to cool the anger simmering within me. We walk toward the car in silence—an oppressive, suffocating silence that feels heavier with each passing second.

Inside the car, Nikolai starts the engine and turns up the music, drowning out any possibility of conversation. My hands grip the sides of my seat, my knuckles turning white as I try to keep my emotions in check. But the more I try, the more they bubble beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

The minute we’re home, I tell the guards to leave us alone and slam the door of the house shut, turning to him.

"Come with me to the living room," I finally snap, unable to take it anymore. "I need to talk to you."

Nikolai hesitates for a moment before nodding slightly. He glances at me with an unreadable expression and walks to the living room with me right at his heels.

There, he turns to me and asks, "What is it?"

"Was it really so hard for you to pretend to care about our child?" My voice trembles, barely concealing my anger. "You were so… detached, so distant. Why, Nikolai? Why can't you show any interest in our baby? Or is it that you don’t want it to be ours?"

My voice rises with each word I say, and Nikolai shakes his head as I say each word but remains silent. Still angry, I almost yell.

“What is it, Nikolai? Do you not want this child because if you don’t, let me tell you, we can get a divorce. I will raise this child alone if I must. But this child will only be born into an environment where he or she is shown the utmost love. If you can’t promise that, then you can’t be a part of our life,” I clutch my belly as a fierce protectiveness comes over me, threatening to raise any threat to the ground.

He clenches his jaw, and for a moment, I think he's going to explode in anger. But then, his gaze drops to my belly, and his voice comes out soft, wavering ever-so-slightly. "Anoushka, it's not that I don't care… I'm just… scared."

"Scared?" I echo, my anger momentarily forgotten as surprise takes its place. "But why?"

"Look at the world we live in!" he exclaims, his voice raw with emotion. "We're constantly surrounded by danger, by enemies who would do anything to hurt us—and now, to hurt our child. How can I protect a baby from all of this? My father was killed by the Bratva, Anoushka. By enemies in Russia. They tried to come for us, too. They’ve always come for us. I worry for my siblings, for you. But a baby? What if… something happens and I let it?"

Realization dawns on me as I stare at Nikolai, his vulnerability laid bare before me. For the first time today, I see past his stoic exterior to understand he wasn’t being cold; he was holding the fear at bay, trying not to let it consume him. In this moment, he is just like any other person—afraid and uncertain about what the future holds.

"None of us can predict the future, Nikolai," I say softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "But we can face it together. We'll protect our baby with everything we have."

“And what if we can’t?” he says ferociously, placing his hand on my belly as he looks down. I suddenly feel such relief, such love, to know that this man wants to protect the life I carry with everything he has. I reach down and hold his hand in place, gently massaging his fingers as he twines them through mine and his eyes shut close, taking in this moment.

“Is there truly anyone in the world,” I whisper. “Who would take on the wrath of the Zolotovs and the Orlovs? Look at us. We have danger all around, but we are fine. All my siblings, all yours—we live, Nikolai, despite it all. All my brothers have children. Ivan, Sergei, Damien, Vanya—they all have children. They’re safe. Why won’t ours be too?” I try to reason with his anxiety with facts.

He takes a deep breath before opening his eyes, meeting my gaze with renewed determination. "You're right. We'll do whatever it takes to keep our child safe. I got overwhelmed. This is an Orlov baby, with Zolotov blood in it after all," he bends down and speaks to my stomach. “For all we know, she would come out guns blazing.”

“She?” I giggle, suddenly excited at the thought of whether we would have a daughter or a son.

“If she’s anything like her mother,” Nikolai looks up with wet eyes, “then I know she’s going to be a fighter.”

“And if he’s anything like his father,” I grab Nikolai’s shoulders, pulling him up to his feet. “Then he’s going to be fiercely protective and loving. We make a good team, Nikolai. No matter what comes our way, we face it together, head-on.”

A small smile plays on his lips, the tension melting away from his features as he pulls me into a warm embrace. For the first time since we left the doctor’s office, I feel his arms around me—not as a shield against the world, but as a promise of love and protection.

“We do make a good team, Anoushka,” he murmurs against my hair, his voice rough with emotion. “I may not always show it, but I care deeply for you and our child. I will learn to be a father worthy of the child you carry.”

Tears gather in my eyes at his words, realizing just how much he’s willing to change and grow for us. “I have no doubt,” I whisper into his ear.

***

Later that night, Nikolai personally prepares my dinner according to the new dietary recommendation, triple washing the vegetables, ensuring I have a safe source of protein. He serves dinner in bed and insists I wake him if I feel sick or tired.

“You spoil me,” I mumble as he clears away the finished plates and gets into bed beside me.

“I believe I have to, considering you carry our child,” he says sweetly, kissing me on my forehead. He pushes an arm out behind me, and I cozy into the nook.

“What environment will we want our child to grow up in?” he muses. “Do we shelter and protect, or do we let them fail and learn?”

“Fail and learn,” I say, without skipping a beat.

Nikolai looks at me in surprise. “Really?” he asks. "But you… you were sheltered growing up, and you turned out so well.”

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