Page 12 of Bratva Knight

I was willing to compromise and respect her wishes of needing space from me. I was not, however, willing to compromise on her safety. That just wasn’t going to happen.

She might balk at it, might get a little pissy when she realised I put guards on her tail. But I’d rather have a pissed off Tatiana than a dead one.

I breathed out an exhausted sigh, turning around. My gaze collided with a set of bright blue eyes and I tensed.

Aleksandr stood in the foyer, his usually stoic and guarded expression gone, replaced with shock.

Chapter Five

Tatiana Andreeva

Twoyearsago

“I’m telling you, Doc, there’s something wrong. I can feel it.” I paced up and down the small living room in my aunt and uncle’s house, hand on my swollen belly, silently begging Baby V to move. They say a mother’s intuition started long before the baby was born. Well, they are right, whoever they are. And my Mama Intuition was telling me something was very, very wrong.

All day, I felt like something was off. Usually, Baby V was a ball of activity from the moment the sun rose. He kicked and kicked, moving up and down, side to side, rolling around like he was trying to find the comfiest position he could in the little, cramped space he had.

I’d grown to enjoy it. At first, it felt like there was a little alien living inside me. When he kicked, I could not only feel the movement but see it too. It made me think of those spider-looking creatures inAliens VS Predator, the ones that burst through your ribcage and out your chest.

I’m not gonna lie, it used to freak me the fuck out. But I’d grown to love it. I looked forward to it every morning. It was like clockwork. He’d push down on my bladder so hard, I had to run to the bathroom or risk pissing my pants. Then he’d move around, as if to say, “Good morning, Mama.”

It made me smile every time. I would speak to him, telling him, “Yes, yes, I feel you,” before going about my day.

But this morning was…different.

I hadn’t felt him move once. It was three o’clock in the afternoon, and my anxiousness had increased so much that I felt sick.

“Did you try the exercises I suggested this morning?” the doctor asked through the phone, his tone calm and understanding.

“Yes. I drank some soda, took a shower, tried eating spicy food. Nothing worked. I still haven’t felt him move.” My voice was shaking, the panic I felt evident. I poked at my belly for the umpteenth time, trying to provoke some kind of movement from him.

It didn’t work.

“Any pains?” the doctor asked.

“There was a little bit of cramping earlier, but that was it. It wasn’t exactly pain. More discomfort.”

“Okay. It could be nothing, Miss Andreeva. Sometimes babies have periods of inactivity where they can go hours without moving. It could mean he’s just sleeping. But if you’re worried, why don’t you come down to the hospital and we can check on the little guy?”

Relief filled me. “Yes, I’d like to do that. Thank you. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“I’ll let the nurses at reception know, so you’ll be brought right through. Try not to worry. I’m sure he’s fine.” The doctor’s tone wasn’t alarming. It should have calmed me down, but it didn’t. There was this terrible feeling sinking deep into my gut. No matter how positive I tried to remain, it wouldn’t go away.

I rushed out of the house as quickly as I could, making sure to grab the baby bag I packed months ago, just in case. It was filled with all the things I might need for Baby V. Onesies in three different sizes, swaddles, beanies and little mittens, some soft toys (even though I knew he wouldn’t be able to play with them). To say I “overpacked” would be an understatement. My aunt and uncle weren’t home, but they left one of their cars at the house in case I needed it.

When I first contacted them and asked to come and stay for a while, they’d been pleasantly surprised. We didn’t see each other often, maybe only once a year for my dad’s birthday, but that didn’t mean we weren’t close. They called me every now and then to check up on me, and I would do the same for them. They only lived a few hours outside of Vegas, so getting to them hadn’t been an issue. Showing up pregnant, however? That had definitely been an issue.

They pestered me with a million questions.

“Who’s the father?”

“Are you getting married?”

“Does your dad know?”

They were all questions I hadn’t been in the mood to answer. I’d been staying there for over three-and-a-half months, and although they tried everyday to get me to talk, I’d given them nothing.

I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet, to talk about what happened with Nikolai.

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