Page 23 of Accidental Bratva Daddy

11

Natalia

The elevator dings softly as I step onto my floor, the familiar scent of lavender air freshener greeting me. Two months. It's been two months since I last saw Luka, since our whirlwind "honeymoon" ended, and reality came crashing back in.

I thought I’d see him more often, but it seems like he’s content just disappearing and not talking to me. He’s barely even sent a text since we parted ways after the honeymoon. Too wrapped up in business to care about his pretend wife.

So much for selling this marriage. Even I’m starting to doubt I ever walked down the aisle. Maybe it was all a dream. Maybe I’m single again and I just don’t know it.

Not that I have the appetite for anyone else. Once Luka’s hands were on me, I knew I didn’t want to be touched by anyone else. We’re enemies with benefits, although the later part of that is really starting to seem like it’s never going to happen again.

But that’s not the worst of this whole situation. There’s something else I’ve had to address, something I should’ve been far more careful about.

I adjust my grip on my purse, fighting back another wave of nausea as I make my way down the hallway to my penthouse.

The doctor's words echo in my mind, making my head spin. Pregnant. I'm pregnant. With Luka's child.

I pause at my door, fumbling with my keys. My hands are shaking, and I can't tell if it's from the news or just another lovely symptom of my condition. Taking a deep breath, I steady myself and push the door open.

The moment I step inside, I know something's off. There's a presence in my home, a subtle shift in the air that sets my nerves on edge. My heart rate kicks up, adrenaline flooding my system as I cautiously move further into the apartment.

That's when I see him.

Luka is lounging on my couch as if he belongs there, his imposing figure a stark contrast to my carefully curated feminine decor. He's as devastatingly handsome as ever, dressed in a tailored suit that hugs his muscular frame in all the right places. His piercing blue eyes lock onto mine, a smile dancing across his face when he sees me.

"Welcome home, wife," he drawls, his deep voice sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

I clench my fists at my sides, torn between the urge to throw myself into his arms and the desire to slap that smug look off his face. "What the hell are you doing here?" I demand, my voice coming out sharper than I intended. "How did you even get in?"

Luka raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Is that any way to greet your husband? As for how I got in..." He shrugs, the movement causing his shirt to stretch enticingly across his broad chest. "I have my ways."

"You broke in," I say flatly, crossing my arms over my chest. I ignore the way my body reacts to his presence, the traitorous flutter in my stomach that has nothing to do with morning sickness.

"Broke in?" Luka repeats, feigning offense. "Darling, I’m hurt by your words. How can a man break into his own home?"

I roll my eyes, shrugging off my jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair with more force than necessary. "This isn't your home, Luka. And don't call me darling."

He stands in one fluid motion, crossing the room to me in a few long strides. I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze, cursing the way my breath catches at his proximity, the smell of him washing over me. "You didn't seem to mind me calling you darling before," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. "In fact, if I recall correctly, you quite enjoyed it. More than once a day at times.”

Heat floods my cheeks as memories of our time together flash through my mind. The feeling of his hands on my body, his lips trailing fire across my skin, the way he'd growl "darling" in my ear as he?—

No. I shake my head, forcing those thoughts away. "That was then," I say, taking a step back to put some distance between us. "This is now. What do you want, Luka?"

He studies me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he reaches out and cups my face in his large,calloused hand. The gentle touch is such a contrast to his usual demeanor that it catches me off guard.

"You look pale," he says, concern evident in his voice. "Are you feeling alright?"

I swallow hard, very aware of the pamphlet burning a hole in my purse. Should I tell him? The words are on the tip of my tongue, but fear holds them back. We agreed this would be casual, after all, and I have no idea how he’ll react. “I’m fine," I lie, pulling away from his touch. "Just tired. Now, are you going to tell me why you're here, or should I call security?"

Luka's eyes narrow slightly, and I know he doesn't believe me. But he doesn't push, instead moving back to sit on the couch. "I need your help with something," he says, his tone shifting to all business. “A favor from my beautiful wife.”

I raise an eyebrow, curiosity getting the better of me. "Oh? And what could the great Luka Volkov possibly need my help with? You seem to have been able to handle your business just fine on your own all this time."

He shrugs his broad shoulders. “You’re not really angry at me about this, are you? I was giving you space. It’s not like you really wanted to marry me.”

“You wanted it,” I snap. “And now you’re acting like you don’t. Barely a text, not even a visit…”

“I’m visiting now,” he replies, cocking his head to the side like he doesn’t understand my frustration.

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