Page 34 of Pregnant By the Mafia Boss

“Hmm. His brother Bracken is worse, but we’ll get the job done. Does that mean dinner is over? Because the party’s just getting started here. My aunty has all sorts of questions for you, cousin. You’ve got some explaining to do,” Andrei teases, but I’m in no mood for jokes as I quickly walk back to the restaurant and Fiona.

“Shut up, Andrei, and sort it out,” I push out, barely containing my rage.

“Okay, okay. I’m on it. Relax. Report back when it’s done.”

“Good.” I hung up and when I reached Fiona, her face held a dazed expression. It’s obvious to me she doesn’t understand how many people want this file.

“I’m taking you home. Now. Dinner’s over. I don’t want to risk you walking back through the main restaurant either. Andrei and I will clear the restaurant first. I’ll tell Olga, and don’t you move out from there until I collect you. Do you hear me?”

Clearly word has spread on the Chicago streets, and with Jamie Bergin’s loud Irish mouth, the treasure hunt for the Omerta files and Fiona will be the hot topic of the Windy City, and I’m making it my duty to keep her safe.

“I get it.” She shudders, rubbing her hands over her arms for comfort. Dropping her off near the kitchen, Olga offers her a glass of water, and satisfied she’s safe for the moment, I announce our departure from the family dinner.

“Hi, I want to thank everyone for coming tonight, but Fiona and I have to cut the night short. She’s not feeling very well, but you’ll get an opportunity to get to know her at the wedding.”

My mother being the savvy woman she is doesn’t buy it. “Bullshit! What’s going on?”

“It’s better not discussed at the table, Mother. I have it under control.” After a stare-off she smiles, standing to give me a hug.

“Okay. If you say so. Get home safe and call me in the morning.”

“Yes. I will,” I reply succinctly, wanting to get back to Fiona as soon as possible.

By driving Fiona home, I feel more in control of the situation. It’s probably a blessing in disguise to cut the family dinner short in the first place. Fiona’s embolden declaration about her father was enough for them to gossip for the rest of the week. I know I’m going to receive several calls from my mother about it, but she’s part of the Bratva lineage too. She lives and breathes this life, despite my father being murdered. He died for his family, and I will do the same if necessary. He led us valiantly, but now, it’s my turn. She’s just as smart and vindicative as I am.

I kick myself as I start the ignition. “I should have killed the bastard. Andrei could have handled the rest.” Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I keep my eyes trained on the streets ahead, scanning for any nasty unwanted surprises.

I showed mercy to a man who my Bratva men wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot between the eyes on first sight. Personally, I’ve shot men for less, but I’m not stupid. I tamed the dark beast within, not wanting bloodshed in the parking lot at my family’s favorite restaurant. If they heard the shots, my cousins, mother and aunts would stream out of the restaurant like roaches to join me on a killing spree. All of them were armed, and that’s just the price you pay as a Bratva family member.

Bergin has been a tough adversary for us on the streets of Chicago for years, but I don’t blame him for wanting the files. I want them too, and for the first time in my life as a shaken Fiona sits beside me, I feel a vague sense of guilt about it. Except now—circumstances have changed. I’m having a kid, and the one thing I promised myself and my Bratva family is that my child would live out in the open, but they would be protected. What good am I if I can’t follow through with my talk?

Fiona’s ashen face is riddled with the trauma and the burden of what she holds close to her vest.

“Everyone is after me for the files. That’s all they want, and now everybody knows,” she blurts out in a hauntingly flat tone, zoning out as I change my normal route of getting home, turning down the back streets as a precautionary measure. Seeing her break does something to me on the inside. I can’t pinpoint what exactly, but I don’t lie to her either.

“Yes.Everyoneisafter you for the files, and it’s only going to get worse, Fiona,” I warn, half expecting Bergin to return with his own pack of soldiers. I check the rearview mirror. Andrei and a few other associates are following a few cars behind, and my gun is ready for easy access in the middle console.

“Ruslan,” she whispers, her face as pale as a sheet. “Make a left turn up after the next stop sign.” Her voice is clear, but the furrow in her brow and fidgeting hands tell me she’s still unsettled by the attempted kidnapping.

“Why? Do you see someone following?” Automatically, I scan our surroundings, checking the mirrors, but she shakes her head.

“No, that’s not it. I want you to take me to my apartment.” She’s silent a beat, her hair illuminated from the moonlight. A weird shot to my heart twinges as my need to protect Fiona increases. Things have changed, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Sighing resolutely, she nods her head. “I’m willing to give to you whatever my father left me,” she concedes with a hoarse whisper, her bottom lip quivering. Finally, Fiona has surrendered, and I don’t have to play games to get what I want. The Omerta files are mine, and the bonus is hers.

It doesn’t get much better than this.

I compose myself, exhaling with a deep breath, and looking skyward, reaching out to rub the back of her hand with my thumb.

“It’s okay. You’ve made the smart choice,” I rasp, a surge of renewed fire raging through my veins. We are about to become renamed “The Untouchables” of Chicago, because obtaining these files are as close to ruling the world as possible. Still, as we draw closer to Fiona’s apartment, I want the details of what Bergin said to her.

“I don’t know if it’s a smart or a dumb choice, but it’s a choice. I don’t have room to make any other,” she admits in defeat.

No, you don’t, but if you didn’t give me the files, I would have protected you anyway.

That’s an internal secret I keep close to my chest. A powerful surge of anger shifts through me as I blink, the chaotic events bleeding into my mind. If Bergin had succeeded in kidnapping her, I don’t know what I would have done. One of the options springing to mind is setting the fucker on fire.

“Trust me. You made the right choice. Tell me what Bergin said to you.”

She draws in a sharp breath. “He didn’t say anything you wouldn’t have already guessed. He just asked me for the files, and he said he’d spare my life if I gave them to him.”

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