Page 31 of Pregnant By the Mafia Boss

“Thank you. I hope they take it easy on me.” Ruslan smirks, but doesn’t provide an answer, leaving me stumped.

“Magnificent dress choice, wouldn’t you say?”

“I guess you did okay on this round,” I tell him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of how much I love it. Ruslan holds out his hand with a gleeful grin.

“Come.” I slide my hand into the devil’s, and as the driver smoothly takes us through the estate gates, Ruslan shares news I don’t want to hear.

“Are you aware your Uncle Roberto’s prison sentence has been increased? I thought you might want to know.” His mouth twitches, but mine drops as I press my eyes shut.

Fuck. “Okay. So what?”

“So what, Fiona? I think you know what I’m getting at. He won’t be coming out for at least the next two years. Something about a yard fight stabbing. Tsk. Tsk, that’s too bad. It looks like your best option is to hand the Omerta files over to me where they’ll be safe,” he drones, the colder switch of him emerging.

I stare numbly into the blur of traffic through Ruslan’s dark tinted windows, a silent desperation brewing.I don’t have a fucking file. Damn you, Luca. It’s a picture! But what does it even mean? I can’t let it end up in the wrong hands. No. No. No. Because what then?

Ruslan’s places a light touch on my thigh, dragging me back to him, but luckily, the car comes to a halt, disrupting the conversation with him I’ve been avoiding. Somehow, I hope the Omerta Files conversation will die the further into the pregnancy we get, but I know it’s stupid to believe such a thing.

I’m surprised we’re dining not far from Ruslan’s estate, and from what I see, it’s a modern, normal restaurant, but it’s popular, and the parking lot is full.Makes sense, he’s bringing me to meet his family, not trying to impress me with a Michelin-star meal.

Sighing, I think it’s best I answer before we get out, that way we can’t get into an argument. “I’m not giving you the files,Ruslan. Respect my decision,” I state plainly, holding on to the last threads of bravery I own.

Ruslan’s void-deep eyes bore into mine, bringing on a round of goose bumps. “Suit yourself. I think in due time, you’ll be changing your mind.” He smirks, rounding to the other side, opening my car door, and guiding me as we pass the patrons, heads of curiosity turning along the way. Ruslan speaks to the waitress for a moment, whispering something in her ear, and soon enough we’re led through to a separate section where a long table fit to accommodate large numbers of people awaits and beautiful black and gold place settings are arranged, along with white candles to set a more intimate mood. There’s a woman who’s pale in complexion, with blonde hair, yet she’s tall and the spitting image of Ruslan, only in female form. It has to be his mother. She’s talking quietly with a man beside her, and if I were to take a guess, it would be that he is Mr. Utkin. Her blonde and silver hair is slicked back, and she’s dressed head to toe in caramel colors.

Her eyes are small, icy blue, and sharp. These are the same inquisitive eyes that skirt right over to me, and when she stands, I can literally smell the reek of money wafting off her.

There’s a few older Russian men at the table and now they stand as I enter. Fuck, there’s the guy who kidnapped me.Ruslan feels my stiffness, tightening his grip on my hand as he casts a smile around his table of relatives.

“Hi, everyone, thank you for coming out tonight. I’m very happy for you to meet, my bride to be, Fiona,” he adds curtly, more as if I’m a prize, not a woman whom he loves.

Ruslan’s mother is the first to welcome me. “Hi, Fiona. I’m Ruslan’s mother, Tatiana.”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” I say back to her with a professional smile, my gaze landing on Ruslan’s associate who kidnapped me. I deliver a message with my eyes.

You bastard.

“Ah, finally, you bring us a nice girl. Welcome to the family,” an elderly man greets. “The name is Sergey. I’m Ruslan’s uncle.” Warily, I offer him my hand as a waiter enters providing drinks and appetizers for the table.

“Nice to meet you, Sergey. Happy to be here,” I lie, putting on a great acting performance. I meet Ruslan’s extroverted cousins, and they are lively and entertaining enough for me to crack a smile. Overwhelmed with the introductions, I settle in next to Ruslan, opposite the kidnapper, avoiding eye contact, and gulping down water to break up my nervousness. I wish I could drink, but I can’t for the baby’s sake.

“This is a place we’ve been coming to for years as a family, Fiona. When we were first immigrants to America, this is the place we came. It’s owned by our Russian friends, Olga and Igor. I trust they’ve prepared excellent food for us to celebrate your union.” Tatiana smiles thinly, but there’s something disingenuous about her.

I don’t care. This is a marriage I didn’t ask for. I’m just going to be myself.

Ruslan must catch on to my internal defiance, leaning in to whisper in my ear.

“My mother is my mother. I do warn you that it might get a little rough. She can be a little invasive upon first meeting. Nothing to worry about. You’re handling yourself well.”

My eyes narrow at him with suspicion. “How many have you brought here, Ruslan for afirstmeeting? You said that as a plural,” I say in a low voice back to him.

“No one,” he replies matter-of-factly. “Not to my blood family. You’re the first in a long time.” More surprises… I don’t ask about the long time. It’s neither the time nor the place, but I don’t plan on sucking up to his mother. Ruslan is just going to have to grin and bear whatever I choose to say.

Serves him right.

“Son. You’ve broughther.Fiona, you’re very interesting. You look incredibly young,” Tatiana remarks, the not-so-subtle dig turning the corkscrews. Ruslan stretches his draped hand over the back of my chair as I smile conservatively back at her, the whole table stopping to hear my reply.

“I’m twenty-one, but I turn twenty-two soon,” I return brightly, cutting between the tension of introductions as a cranberry fig goat cheese crostini are placed on the table along with bacon-encased water chestnuts.

“Wow. Twenty-two.” She nods, but I instantly pick up the disapproval shining in her eyes as Ruslan and his mother’s eyes connect.

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