Page 160 of Bratva Knight

His touch was light, soft. Surprising, considering the tension rolling off him as he gently took me by the arms and helped me off my knees. “I told you if there were any alterations you wanted done to call me. I’ll do them.”

I smiled, love exploding in my chest. Honestly, how did I get so fucking lucky? “Hi, my love.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t you ‘my love’ me. You promised you would take it easy.”

“And I am. I just had to adjust the hem—”

“Okay, well I’ll do it. Please, just sit down.” I didn’t argue as he steered me toward one of the many comfortable arm chairs he’d had placed all around the backstage for me. “How high do you want it taken up?”

“Just a few inches, please. I forgot how short she was.”

“Hey! I heard that!” Drea chastised, her gaze locked firmly on the mirror in front of her as she twirled in her all black, gothic-style dress. I’d tailored each outfit to match the Volkovs’ personalities. I didn’t want them to be uncomfortable in the clothes. I wanted them tolikewhat they were wearing, to enjoy them.

Drea was easy. She had a very punk-rock, heavy metal kind of style, so anything black was a given. She baulked a little at wearing a dress, but once she’d put it on, she changed her mind.

I watched in amazement as the love of my life—a man who, six months ago, couldn’t even thread a needle—effortlessly folded and sewed the hem of Drea’s dress up for me. I so did not deserve that man.

“Tatiana, Tatiana, look at me. Watch me.” Lukyan strutted past me, going right for the mirror, swinging his ass extravagantly with a blue-steel look on his face. He stopped, popped his hip out, pursed his lips even more as he posed left to right before spinning around and strutting right back to me, ending on another pose. He pumped his eyebrows up and down. “Whaddaya think? Pretty good, right? I’ve been practicing.”

“Oh, I can tell,” I chuckled, rubbing my belly. There were two big kicks in response that put a big, beaming smile on my face.

Though this pregnancy had been a tough one with the pain, swollen ankles and heartburn, I couldn’t be happier. I’d spent the first few months in constant terror, scared that I would lose them, like I lost Nikolas. The stress and worry hadn’t been good for the babies, but I couldn’t help it. The thoughts occupying my mind were dark, dangerous ones that completely paralysed me, originating from past trauma.

Then Nikolai, the Godsend that he is, gave me the ability to check on the twins whenever I wanted to without having to go to the hospital. He purchased a $300,000 ultrasound machine—the best one available on the market—and hired someone to teach us how to use it. Every night before we went to bed, we checked in on them, read them a story and said goodnight. We told them how loved they both were already, and that we couldn’t wait to meet them.

There was a lot of noise. A lot of activity. A lot of people ran back and forth as the other students tried to get their models dressed in their designs. A lot of mayhem, nervousness and chaos. I loved every second of it.

Three girls crowded around Aleksandr, fawning over him like out of control fans. They pretended to admire his suit as an excuse to touch him, giving him flirtatious smiles and lingering touches. He instantly backed away towards Drea, who pushed him behind her and hissed at the girls like a feral cat. They scurried away pretty fucking quickly, making me laugh.

Illayana came out from the changing room, her red gown flaring out around her. She looked flawless, exactly how I envisioned. I knew red would be absolutely perfect for her. It was her colour, like a red, avenging angel.

I shook my hands in the air. “Lukyan, help me up.” He came right over and clasped my hands in his, pulling me to my feet. I waddled over to Illayana.

“What’s the verdict, T?” she asked, arms out at her side, doing a little twirl.

I check her over, examining every stitch, every seam. It fit her like a glove, the measurements exact. “You look amazing,” I smiled.

“Easy to do when the merchandise is this. Freaking. Awesome.” She ran her hands lovingly down the bodice. “I better get to keep the dress afterwards.”

“Of course,” I winked. “What good is modelling in a mock fashion show if you don’t get to keep the clothes once it's all done?” I studied her closely. “You seem particularly chipper this evening. What’s going on?”

She flashed me a smile. “I got my revenge.”

“Oh really?” I laughed. “The wicked witch of La Cosa Nostra finally meet her end, did she?”

“Yes.” Her smirk was positively devilish. “Took a little longer than I originally planned, I’ll admit, but Gabriella is gone.”

“What happened?”

“She gained sixty pounds, lost all of her hair and went a little crazy because I kept drugging her food with Benzodiazepines. Now she’s locked up in an insane asylum.”

I raised my brows, impressed. “Wow. How did you manage that?”

“It was easy,” she shrugged. “I had the cook, Giuseppe, make sure all of her meals were filled with all the good, fatty shit that makes you gain weight like crazy. Which he was happy to do, because Gabriella is a bitch. I switched out her shampoo for hair removal. The poison ivy trick you did was a nice touch, by the way,” she winked. “And after she started talking to herself and doing crazy shit, I suggested she be locked away for ‘safety’. Arturo was more than happy to oblige. He’d been trying to find her a husband, but after she stripped off all her clothes at an important meeting and started screaming that the lampposts were trying to kill her, no one wanted to go near her.”

“You are diabolical,” I laughed. “Killing her was just too soft for you, huh?”

“Waytoo soft. Killing her meant her suffering was over quickly. This way, she gets to spend the rest of her life locked up in a place where the loonies go,” she giggled. “You know what? I might pay her visit every now and then. You know, just for fun.”

---