Page 24 of The Bratva's Knocked-Up Bride

I look down at my hands, feeling torn between frustration and an unsettling sense of safety. It’s the contradiction of Roman that keeps me on edge. He’s both a source of protection and the reason I’m stuck in this twisted situation in the first place.

But I can’t deny it anymore—there’s a strange comfort in knowing he’s on my side, even if I don’t fully trust him yet. There’s another feeling, too, one stronger but unexplainable, and I have no interest in finding out what it is.

Dinner wraps up quietly after that. There’s still tension between us, but it’s not as sharp as before. I’m unsure if it’s because he finally shared something with me or because I’m starting to understand his world better. But for now, we have a truce.

Later, I head back to my room, intending to dive back into my studies. But as I sit at my desk, flipping through my notes, I can’t focus. My thoughts keep drifting back to Roman—his words, his expressions during dinner, and how his presence lingers long after leaving the room.

I should be thinking about Riley. About how to keep my promise and make sure we get her back. But I can’t help it—Roman is invading my thoughts, and the more I try to push him out, the more he settles in.

I let out a frustrated sigh and stood up, pacing the length of the room. I hate this. I hate how conflicted I feel and how much I think about him. He’s not supposed to matter like this. He’s just the guy who forced me into marriage to save my friend. That’s all.

But there’s more, isn’t there? The way he looks at me, the way he protects me, and how, despite everything, I feel... safer with him than I ever thought I would.

I stop pacing, staring at the large window overlooking the city. It’s late, and the lights stretch out beneath me, a reminder of how isolated I am up here in this penthouse. Cut off from the rest of the world. From my old life.

It hits me again just how much everything has changed. My life, my choices, and even my feelings. I don’t know what this marriage will bring or how long it’ll last, but I’m stuck in this strange in-between between resentment and attraction, fear and trust.

And Roman Milov, whether I like it or not, is right at the center of it all.

Chapter 8 - Roman

The next few days pass in a blur as Gwen and I keep trying to settle into this new routine of living and existing with one another. The banter settles slightly, likely due to the fact I’ve been keeping her somewhat updated, but her avoidance of me does not. It doesn’t matter, though. With both the Vultures and the casino on my plate, almost every day requires me to be out of the house all day.

However, it doesn’t stop me from checking in on her. I find myself checking the camera feeds at the penthouse pretty consistently, and my cold heart warms ever so slightly as I watch her make food in the kitchen alongside Maria. The two of them seem to be talking as they prepare themselves lunch, which ends up being a chicken Caesar salad. When I check in on them again later, this time they’re baking. I can’t help but smile a little—it was good to see Gwen getting comfortable, even if it was just a little.

The space between Gwen and me feels both foreign and oddly comforting. We navigate the fine line between reluctant partners and competitive sparring partners, and it’s a dynamic I anticipated.

When I got home one night, she and Maria had a roast beef dinner waiting for me and a red velvet cake for dessert. It’s a kind gesture that doesn’t last as Gwen and I end up going at it once again at the dinner table over Riley, over the speed of getting her back. She asked what I was doing to get Riley back and if there was anything new to share, but I had nothing to tell her. She doesn’t understand how we have to wait for the right moment to strike. It angers her to the point that she leaves the table without finishing her dinner.

I don’t mind it, though. I know she’s stressed and feels trapped. I also believe that every argument and every heated exchange brings us closer, though I can sense the weight of our situation pressing down on her. I bring her a slice of cake later that night, leaving it outside the door when she doesn’t open it for me. While I was working in the living room later that night, Maria passed by with an empty plate, and we smiled at one another.

Another evening, I find myself at the kitchen island again, reviewing plans and possible leads for the group targeting me. I’m deeply focused when Gwen bursts into the room, her expression a mix of determination and frustration.

“Roman,” she starts, crossing her arms as she leans against the doorframe. “I can’t keep doing this. I need some fresh air.”

I look up, my brow furrowing. “Fresh air? Do you think a walk outside is going to magically solve our problems? You’re safer here.”

“I’m not a child!” she snaps, pushing away from the door. “You can’t just decide everything for me. I’m stuck in this… this-this beautifulcage, and I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

I stand, moving around the island to face her directly. “It’s not a cage, Gwen. You have everything you need here, and it’s not forever. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

“And I appreciate that, but I’m still a person, Roman,” Gwen says, and a look on her face tells me she really is genuinely appreciative, just troubled. “I have needs. I want to go outside, see the sun, breathe the air. I can’t be locked in here while you do…whatever it is you do.”

Her eyes flash with frustration, and I can’t help but admire her spirit. I’ve always been drawn to strength, and shepossesses that in abundance. Still, I can’t let her roam free yet—not when I know how dangerous it is.

“I get it,” I say slowly, my voice softening. I sigh. “Look, you can go out on the balcony. It’s huge. There’s a pool out there, too.”

“The balcony isn’t enough. I mean…outside, outside. Away from this place.”

“Gwen…” I tilt my head, trying to be as gentle as possible yet still be stern. “I need you to trust me on this. It won’t be long before we can figure out who’s after us. Until then, I need you safe and out of sight.”

Her expression shifts slightly, uncertainty flickering across her face. “Safe and out of sight? You’re asking me to live like a ghost, Roman.”

“I’m asking you tolive,” I correct her firmly, stepping closer. “This is for your protection, and I know it’s not ideal. But the moment we have a plan in place, I promise I’ll find a way to give you back your freedom.”

She takes a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Good.” I smile, the tension between us easing slightly. “And until then, we can find ways to make it more bearable. How about you head out there now? I’ll get some work done, and you can do some studying.”

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