Page 44 of Knocked Up by the Bratva

A big week ahead.

He’s planning our wedding, and there’s nothing I can do about it. No way out.

I glance toward the window, the soft glow of the moonlight spilling into the room, casting shadows across the floor. The reality of my situation is suffocating. I’m trapped in his world, bound to him whether I like it or not. The worst part? There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to fight it.

With a frustrated sigh, I lay back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Whatever happens next, I need to be strong. For me and for my son.

Chapter Twenty - Timur

I stand at the altar, my eyes scanning the room, taking in the familiar faces. Business partners, allies, and a few family members fill the rows. My mother is there, seated near the front, holding Tyler in her arms. She’s cooing at him, trying to keep him quiet. He’s a restless kid, always moving, always curious. I don’t know him well, haven’t spent much time with him since I found out he existed, but everyone can see he takes after me. It’s obvious—the sharp eyes, the furrow of his little brow, even the dark hair.

I feel something stir in my chest as I watch him wriggle in my mother’s arms. I’ve faced countless enemies, built an empire from nothing, and controlled my life with precision. Being… being a father, though? It feels foreign, something I can’t quite grasp. I’m not sure how to bond with him, how to be what he needs. I know one thing for sure: I’ll protect him, just like I protect everything that’s mine.

The soft music begins, and my attention shifts. Jennifer is walking down the aisle. She’s beautiful, draped in a simple, elegant dress. Her hair is pinned back, and even from this distance, I can see the nerves in her eyes, the uncertainty in her steps. She doesn’t want this, not really. I know that, but she’s here, and that means something.

As she approaches, the tension between us is palpable. It’s been building since the day I found her again, and it hasn’t gone away. Her eyes meet mine, and I see more than just fear or hesitation. There’s something else—something deeper, something we’re both trying to ignore.

Jennifer stands before me, and the officiant begins speaking, guiding us through the vows. I barely register the words, my mind focused solely on her. The way her lips move,the softness of her skin, the curve of her neck. I’ve kissed her before, tasted her before, but something about this moment feels different. It’s official now.

When it’s time to exchange vows, her voice wavers slightly, but she pushes through. She looks at me with a mix of determination and vulnerability, like she’s trying to make peace with what’s happening. My vows come out steady, my voice low, my words simple. I don’t need to say much. This marriage is about more than words—it’s about power, protection, and control.

The officiant gives us the final cue, and I take her hand, pulling her close. As our lips meet, a rush of heat shoots through me. It’s been too long since I’ve kissed her like this, too long since I’ve felt her under my touch. The kiss is firm, lingering, and I can feel the tension in her body as she responds. She might not want this marriage, but she can’t deny what’s between us.

For a brief moment, everything else falls away. The guests, the ceremony, the business deals—it all fades. There’s just her and me, standing at the altar, our future sealed in that kiss. I pull back slowly, my hand still gripping hers, my eyes locked on hers.

There’s no turning back now.

As we turn to face the crowd, I glance over at my mother and Tyler again. He’s still squirming, his little hands reaching out, oblivious to the significance of the moment. I can’t help but wonder what kind of life he’ll have, growing up under my shadow, inheriting everything I’ve built.

Jennifer’s eyes glisten with unshed tears as we prepare to leave the ceremony. She’s been quiet for most of the day, tense, almost withdrawn. I watch her closely as she stands a few feet away from my mother, Katya, who’s cradling Tyler in her arms.The boy is Staring at me again, expression curious but calm. Jennifer, on the other hand, looks anything but at ease.

“I need to be with him,” she whispers, her voice trembling as she watches our son sleep. “He’s never been with anyone else. He’s only ever been with me.”

Katya steps forward, her expression soft but firm. Her gray eyes, sharp with wisdom, meet Jennifer’s with a steady calmness. “You don’t need to worry,” Katya says in a soothing tone, gently swaying Tyler in her arms. “I raised three boys—Timur, Maxim, Serge—and trust me, I can take care of your son for one night.”

Jennifer’s eyes flicker between Tyler and Katya, her anxiety palpable. I know she’s torn, the protective mother in her at war with the reality of what our lives have become. My mother, Katya Sharov, is not just anyone. She’s the matriarch of our family, a woman who has faced horrors Jennifer couldn’t imagine, yet raised us in the shadows of that violence. If anyone can be trusted with Tyler, it’s her.

“He’ll be fine, Jennifer,” I say, stepping closer to her. My voice is low, controlled. “He’s with my mother. She knows how to handle him.”

Jennifer bites her lip, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill over. I know how hard this is for her, but I also know that she doesn’t have a choice. Not anymore.

With a reluctant nod, she finally lets go, wiping her tears quickly before they can fall. She steps closer to Katya, placing a gentle kiss on Tyler’s forehead. “Good night, baby,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Katya gives Jennifer a reassuring smile, then looks at me. “Don’t worry, Timur. He’ll sleep through the night. I’ll have him fed and rested by the time you return.”

I nod, trusting her completely. “Thank you, Mama.”

As we turn to leave, Jennifer hesitates, glancing back one more time before following me to the car. The tension in her shoulders is visible, but I don’t press her. Not yet.

The drive is quiet at first, the air between us thick with unspoken words. I glance over at her, taking in the way she stares out of the window, her mind clearly somewhere else. Probably with Tyler. I get it, but she needs to adjust. This is our new reality.

“We’ll be staying at the mansion,” I say, breaking the silence as I focus on the road ahead. “It’s big enough for the three of us, and you’ll have everything you need there.”

Jennifer doesn’t respond immediately, her eyes still fixed on the passing scenery. Her silence grates on me, and I grip the steering wheel tighter.

“You’ll have your own space, of course,” I continue. “A place to raise Tyler, to live comfortably.”

Still nothing. She’s distant, closed off. It’s starting to piss me off.

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