Page 41 of Pregnant By the Mafia Boss

His swarthy dark eyes stay trained on mine, his imposing bodyweight covering and holding me solidly against the wall as he rocks back and forth inside me, only the heat of our breath, intermingled with his grunts and my murmurs present.

It’s everything I want it to be; my fire for my savior only grows as we scramble to paradise, locking our sweaty fingers together.

Ruslan works hard and fast, changing cadences as I grind back against him in pleasure. Hell yes, this is better than anything. I need nothing else. Nothing else. Maybe it’s okay I betrayed my father for him. It’s all going to be okay. He can have the files. Maybe I can have the babies he wants.

I feel Ruslan’s girth expanding inside me as he unleashes a guttural moan in my ear, his eyes squinting together. “Come with me, Fiona. Now. Come on,” he requests, the bench in the fitting rooms shaking next to us; I have no choice anyway as I watch the scene of us in the mirror, Ruslan’s bare ass pumping into me, giving me an erotic display. He makes me feel like a different woman, someone willing to take risks, to live on the edge, and as I bite into his shoulder, I like it. I realize I like the danger, because deep down, I’m cut from the same cloth he is. Wiggling my hips, my garter clip breaks as I see stars, an earth-shattering orgasm breaking me. Ruslan’s body stiffens in climax as he lets me go, and I slide down the wall panting and giggling.

I blink rapidly, coming down from the ultimate high, my foot accidentally hitting the bench as the sales clerk calls out, Ruslan locking the changeroom door behind us, and more customers enter.

“Is everything okay in there?” the clerk asks, Ruslan clapping a hand over my mouth. I bite into the palm of it, unableto control my giggles. Sweaty, he mouths for me to shut up, and I comply, answering the woman.

“Yes, everything’s fine.” My voice comes out squeaky as the waves of orgasm continue, and Ruslan quickly hitches up his pants, zipping them shut.

“Okay, good. Let me know if you need a hand with sizes or anything. Just sing out,” the clerk says as one of the customers sniffs the air.

“Why does it smell like sex in here?”

Smuggling a giggle, I gather the lingerie I’ve tried on, and we end our shopping spree of an afternoon on a high. I ended up with two more sets of Ruslan’s choice, and floating on cloud nine for quite a while.

Screw wedding night.

Chapter Twenty - Ruslan

On a high from our shopping spree, and taking Fiona in the changing rooms, I don’t want anything to do with work. All I want is her. To take more time to get to know her. Sure, I can find out the information of her past by digging, but finding out who she is by her telling me is helping build our bond. I see the way she looks at me when I leave in the mornings, coming back in the dead of night. There’s a longing for love, and for me it’s a dangerous place I’ve never been, nor want to visit if I can avoid it. It’s not the oath of my Bratva brothers I took long ago. And now more than ever, there’s no room for that.

Truthfully, I’ve been working around the clock with my security team to determine the location of the warehouse, and we’re close to finding out where it is with a few near misses on the southside of Chicago. I kept that part from Fiona, not wanting her to be distressed about betraying her father’s promise. She would be, because despite giving in to me, she’s loyal, and I’ve taken advantage of her.

But today, as the brunette beauty, bound by the fate of her choices sits next to me, and with the back seat full of her lavish purchases, maybe I can shower her with enough gifts for her to realize life with me isn’t as bad as she thinks it will be. That maybe we can grow together. And that somewhere inside of myself, I want what she wants. Normal days of being with my family-to-be, and less warfare. It’s terrifying to feel this way, I’ve been the street monster of the Bratva for so long—yes, less malevolent, but once the dark of your soul rots, it doesn’t change, it only lays dormant waiting for its opportunity to strike in a different way.

Maybe you can with the Omerta files.It can make the Bratva untouchable. We won’t be questioned, and from the strength of my name alone, the world will shake in its boots.

As I question the future of my family, we drive home to the sounds of the local radio station blurring our own silent worlds. A few minutes later, it’s interrupted by Mark.

I switch out of my thoughts, thrown into reality. “Mark,” I bark, Fiona abruptly alerted to the call.

“Ey, boss. I’ve got news on the warehouse photo. Can you talk?” he asks warily, Fiona’s face of bliss changing rapidly to one of mental anguish.

“Yes, go ahead. Fiona and I are in the car.” I have nothing to hide. She’s going to know once I find the files anyway, better she’s in on it this way without me explaining anyway.

“Okay, okay, listen it took some time, but part of the reason is we were looking in the wrong place. Those rusty old containers in the photo, no longer exist.”

My jaw twitches at the irrelevant information. “So? And now? Where is it located?”

“It’s right near Richton Park, tucked away behind Taco Bell. It’s the old Red Farm Terminal, you know the one? We used to run deals out of there.”

Gripping the wheel a little tighter, my knuckles turn white from their chokehold on the wheel. “Yes, I remember the one.” A flashback of peeling the nails off a wayward drug runner from long ago leaks into my mind.

“Perfect, but you need to come down here now. We don’t have much time. I’ve got a team of ten here, and we’re about to start searching the grounds.”

“Good, keep going. I’ll drop Fiona home and come there.”

Fiona reaches out, grabbing my arm as I look over at her pained expression. “No. I want to come too. Don’t leave me out,” she begs.

Hesitating for a beat, I sigh, knowing it’s the right thing to do. “Okay, you can come. We’re on our way,” I tell Mark.

“Perfect. I’ll have the detectors ready by the time you get here.”

“Good. See you when I’m looking at you.” Clicking off the call, my pulse beats hard in my wrist as I swing a hard U-turn, heading back in the direction of the huge warehouse of past horrors, surprised that’s the location Marino choose. The warehouse is basically hidden in plain sight.It must be because Marino conducted a lot of his business there,I justify. Our earlier changeroom exchange is muted by the promise of infinite political and street power, leading the Bratva to become one of the most feared crime syndicates in the world.

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