Page 33 of Pregnant By the Bratva

When I step out again, his eyes light up with approval, and a grin spreads across his face. “Perfect,” he says, standing to close the distance between us. He circles me slowly, his hand grazing my waist as he takes in every detail. “This suits you.”

I can feel the warmth of his touch through the fabric, a reminder of the night before, and my heart skips a beat. I force myself to focus on the present as he turns to the saleswoman, his tone commanding. “She’ll be wearing this one out. Proceed to checkout.”

As we leave the boutique, bags in hand, Ivan’s presence is as commanding as ever, drawing the attention of everyone around us. We enter the elevator, and I take a deep breath, trying to calm the unease that settles in my chest. I’ve always hated elevators—small, enclosed spaces that make me feel trapped. It’s something I’ve never told Ivan, something I’ve tried to manage on my own.

He glances at me, his sharp eyes catching the tension in my posture. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low but insistent.

“Nothing,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “It’ll be over soon.”

I try to focus on the soft hum of the elevator as it begins its descent, but the walls feel like they’re closing in, the space around me growing smaller with each passing second. Mybreathing quickens, my pulse racing, and I know I’m teetering on the edge of panic.

Suddenly, the elevator jolts to a stop, and my heart leaps into my throat. The lights flicker, and I feel the first wave of full-blown panic crash over me.

“Sarah.” Ivan’s voice cuts through the haze, firm and commanding, but I can hear the undercurrent of concern. He steps closer, his hand on my arm as he turns me to face him. “Look at me.”

I try to focus on him, but the walls seem to be closing in, the air growing thick and heavy. My chest tightens, and I can feel the panic clawing at my throat, threatening to overwhelm me. Ivan’s grip on my arm tightens, and he pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me in a protective hold.

“You’re safe,” he murmurs, his voice a steady anchor in the chaos. “I’m here. Just breathe.”

I cling to him, burying my face in his chest as I try to steady my breathing. The scent of him surrounds me, familiar and grounding, and I focus on the rhythm of his heartbeat, strong and steady against my ear. His hands rub soothing circles on my back, and slowly, the panic begins to recede, the tightness in my chest easing as I take deeper breaths.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice soft and comforting, a side of him I’ve rarely seen. “Just hold on to me.”

I shut my eyes, focusing on the warmth of his body, the strength in his arms, and for the first time, I feel a sense of peace wash over me. The fear is still there, lurking in the background, but Ivan’s presence calms me in a way I didn’t expect. He’salways been a source of control, of power, but in this moment, he’s something more—something that feels almost like safety.

After what feels like an eternity, the elevator jerks back to life, the lights steadying as it begins to move again. Ivan keeps his hold on me, his hand stroking my hair as I slowly come back to myself, the panic subsiding into a dull throb at the back of my mind.

When the doors finally slide open, I let out a shaky breath, stepping out of the elevator with Ivan still at my side. My legs feel unsteady, but he holds me up, guiding me out into the open air.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible as I look up at him, my eyes meeting his.

He nods, his expression serious but softer than I’ve seen it before. “You don’t need to thank me,” he says, his voice low. “You’re mine, Sarah, and I look out for you.”

The words send a shiver through me, and for the first time, I allow myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there’s more to this man than the darkness he so often wears like armor.

Chapter Nineteen

Ivan

Back in New York, the city’s familiar pulse throbs around me as I step through the front door of my home. The past few days have been a blur of meetings, business, and securing the empire I’ve built. Now, as I cross the threshold, a strange sense of anticipation settles in my chest. It’s been a while since I’ve had a moment of quiet, and as I head towards my study, I wonder if Sarah has managed to find some semblance of peace in this place.

When I push open the door to the study, I’m met with a sight that stops me in my tracks. Sarah is sitting on the edge of the large leather chair, her back turned to me as she flips through a worn photo album. The room is filled with the soft rustle of turning pages, the dim light from the desk lamp casting a warm glow over her as she studies the images.

She looks up as I enter, her eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and something else—something softer, more vulnerable. “I was just tidying up,” she says quickly, as if she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t. “I found this tucked away in one of the drawers.”

I cross the room, my gaze drifting to the album in her lap. It’s been years since I’ve seen it—years since I’ve allowed myself to look through those old photos. Memories come flooding back as I sit down beside her, my hand brushing over the faded cover.

“Family pictures,” I murmur, my voice tinged with a note of something I can’t quite name. “It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at these.”

Sarah glances up at me, her expression tentative, as if she’s unsure whether to ask the questions I can see forming in her mind. After a moment, she gathers her courage. “Who are they?” she asks softly, her fingers tracing the edge of a photograph.

I lean forward, my eyes landing on the image she’s holding. It’s an old picture—one of the few from my childhood that managed to survive the years. My mother’s face stares back at me, frozen in time, her smile bright and full of life. Beside her, my older brother Kirill stands tall and proud, his arm wrapped protectively around me. We’re all so young in that picture, so innocent.

“That’s my mother,” I say quietly, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “My brother, Kirill. This was taken not long before… before everything changed.”

Sarah looks up at me, her eyes searching mine. “What happened?”

I take a deep breath, the memories clawing at the edges of my mind. I’ve spent years burying them, locking them away in the darkest corners of my soul, but with Sarah sitting here, looking at me with such quiet understanding, the urge to open up is too strong to resist.

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