Page 1 of Knocked Up By the Russian

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Prologue - Ivan

It was a Saturday night, and predictably, the nightclub was pulsing. Violet LEDs flashed in tune with the DJ, and all around Ivan, people were loving it. So why didn't he feel the same?

Sitting at a booth in the VIP corner, the Russian's jaw clenched with annoyance as another shriek of laughter came from the group on his right. A bridal party who'd already splashed out on several expensive bottles of champagne. They wore tight pink dresses with silky sashes displaying cursive letters declaring the bride, her bridesmaids, and the maid of honor. There might've even been a mother or two in attendance too, but Ivan stopped paying attention to them after the second girl walked past, giggling at the sight of him.

He knew what they wanted. He could see it in their eyes; felt it in their hungry stares the moment he sat down. Women like that were so easy to please. They'd be there for the evening and gone in the morning, something he normally appreciated. Normally. But things hadn't felt normal for a while, and he didn't know how to fix it.

"You're grumpier than usual tonight," Adrian pointed out with a smirk as he settled across from him. As the youngest of the four brothers, being teased came with the territory—but brothers were brothers, and patience had its limits. He shot Adrian an annoyed glare, fully aware anything more would be an open invitation for harassment.

"You'd be too if you had to sit here on a Saturday night," Ivan drawled as his eyes flicked over the dance floor.

"Never bothered you before," Adrian snorted as he pulled a crystal tumbler nearer. He grabbed another, filled it with Johnny Walker Blue, and slid it toward Ivan, liquid splashing over the rim and wetting their table. Disgusted, Ivan grabbed a serviette and wiped it up as his brother watched him.

Ivan ignored the flicker of concern that Adrian didn't bother to hide in favor of the drink in his hands. "When's thePakhangetting here?"

"He's already here," his brother stated, and he tipped his chin toward the three men who'd appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

"Miss me, Vanya?" Mikhail teased while Kostya and Lev poured themselves each a drink. Both settled for a familiar strong Russian vodka, and Lev sneered with a cocky expression as he eyed Ivan's drink.Pussy,his brother's expression seemed to shout and Ivan rolled his eyes. It wasn't his fault he was the only one there with taste.

"Someone's in a shit mood." Lev's voice was dry as he echoed Adrian's concern, and Ivan scowled, knowing it wouldn't take much for them both to gang up on him.

"Heard you haven't been fucking anyone in a while, playboy," Kostya jeered, and the other three laughed. "Can't get it up anymore?"

Ivan grunted, not bothering to respond. It wasn't any of their business if he'd been having a dry spell lately. The women around him just weren't doing it for him anymore, and sleeping around was becoming less and less of an occurrence when he realized all it took was a come-hither glance to get them trotting right up to him.

"Alright, enough. What's news on the business front?" Mikhail butted in, and Ivan found himself ignoring the rest of the conversation.

It was a typical Saturday night at the club. Mikhail wanted to know how things were going in the Bratva, and Adrian was always the first to give him an update. Then Kostya would go over the latest run with the Italians; they were always trying to overcharge on the weapons—but they weren't near as fun as dealing with the Mexicans who were currently being led by an absolute lunatic. Someone always ended up dead when they were working with the cartel. After that, Lev would give an update on the clubs... always the same, until it came to him.

"Ivan? Update?" Mikhail barked, his voice gruff with irritation. No doubt he wanted to get back to his wife and kids. Mira was probably waiting for him with a plate of warm food and news on her day at work. She probably even had something funny to say about the twins' day, too. Ivan had visited enough evenings to know.

"Ivan?"

"Nothing." Ivan finally glanced back at the table. "Streets are quiet, Mikhail. There hasn't been anything new from the Irish. Sounds like they've tucked tail and run."

Report given, he went quiet again as his brothers discussed the latest development. He wasn't sulking, far from it. Life had just become so...routine. Ivan already knew he was going home after this meeting, and tomorrow he'd probably walk around his house and stare at the walls again until he decided to switch on the TV. Unless Adrian invited him out. Then they'd be back here, watching and listening to see if there was anything new happening in the criminal underworld as of late. When Monday finally came around, he'd be back in theoffice, handling shipments and sweet-talking the rest of the Bratva or whoever Lev pissed off recently.

He needed a fucking change; he just wasn't sure where he was going to find one. Well, not until an hour later when Lev mentioned they were building another club downtown.

"I don't have the time to launch it, but Zia's adamant," his older brother grumbled as he flicked a look of sheer disdain at what appeared to be a notebook and blueprints. "We were supposed to be going on holiday in two weeks."

"Let me do it," Ivan interrupted, and four sets of eyes looked at him like he was joking. He snorted at the disbelief that crossed over Lev's features and leaned back, feeling a little more like himself already. "Come on. Things have been quiet, and it's driving me fucking mad. Let me launch the place for you. You know I'm capable." More than actually, but he didn’t want to point that out.

Still wearing a wary expression, Lev pushed the documents toward Ivan. "You better not be fucking with me right now."

"I'm not."

Ivan flicked through the blueprints. The design was far more modern than the club they were in currently, with an office overlooking the dance floor to make sure no one was fucking around with their stock. He'd heard his brothers discussing it before, but to see the results… it was nice. Interesting, and his life hadn't had much of that lately, so he dug into the information on hand, ignoring the blatant surprise on everyone's faces as he started planning the necessary steps.

It didn't take much to convince Lev either; his brother liked the idea of more time with his wife. However, that didn't stop him from threatening to get rid of Ivan's Ducati if he didanything to risk Zia's club. Ivan snorted before asking if they'd hired any staff yet.

"Zia's organized a manager for the place," Lev admitted with a shrug. "Amy Spencer."

"The girl who got poisoned?" Mikhail asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Zia's best friend," Lev corrected him as he turned to face Ivan again. "You can meet with her on Monday to discuss everything."

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