Page 25 of The Bratva's Knocked-Up Bride

Gwen looks at me reluctantly, but to my surprise, she agrees.

Maybe I can find a balance between keeping her safe and giving her the freedom she craves. Maybe, in doing so, it’ll bring us closer together. As we settle on the balcony, I sit there watching her set up her study materials, and I can’t shake thefeeling of how much I enjoy having her here—her energy, her spirit. I find this odd to admit to myself, considering I’ve always been an independent, lone wolf.

I quickly shake those thoughts away. I can’t let my attraction to Gwen mislead me. I have to focus. I have to get those feeds at the casino and work on finding the men's identity, taking them down, and getting Riley back. I excuse myself and step away to make another call to my brother, then get ready to head down to the casino.

Later that afternoon, I returned from work. Gwen is still on the balcony, and I can tell she’s at peace, so I tell Maria to bring our dinner out there once it’s done. As we wait for dinner to come, I find myself stealing glances at her as she studies, the sunlight streaming down and highlighting the delicate features of her face. She has a look of determination on her face mixed in with newfound motivation, a stark contrast to the somewhat vulnerable girl from before.

“Are you ever going to let me help you?” Shortly after our meal arrives, Gwen speaks up, her pen tapping against the table as I work on the latest lead. We’re both eating and doing work together but separately at the same time. It’s oddly peaceful. “I can’t just sit here and be a burden.”

“Not a burden,” I counter, the words slipping out before I can catch them. I clear my throat. “You’re a part of this now.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she says, lifting her gaze to meet mine. “I want to help find my friend. I’m not helpless, you know.”

“I’m aware of that, Gwen. But this isn’t just about you or me; it’s about keeping you safe. If you get involved, you could become a target.”

“Okay, so tell me more about your investigation, then,” She suggests, leaning closer. “Any more progress?”

I don’t answer her.

She frowns, and I can see the frustration simmering beneath the surface. “You’re always putting me in a box, Roman. If you’d just let me do something…”

“You think I want to keep you locked away?” I shoot back, my voice rising unintentionally. “I’m doing this toprotect you. It’s not because I don’t think you can handle it.”

“Then stop treating me like Ican’t,” she fires back, her eyes blazing. “Icanhelp, and Iwantto. I won’t sit here while my friend is out there in danger.”

The fire in her voice ignites something in me, a mix of admiration and frustration. She’s passionate and unyielding, and I can’t help but feel drawn to her resolve. “Fine,” I say, taking a deep breath to cool my temper. “If you want to help, I’ll let you assist in gathering information.That is it. I’m keeping you safe. No unnecessary risks.”

“Deal,” she replies, a triumphant smile lighting up her face. The light in her expression dims, just barely, as her eyes gloss over in a more serious way. “You know, Roman, when you’re not being an asshole… You’re actually quite…well, pleasant company.”

I can’t help but chuckle at her attempt to compliment me. “Pleasant? Is that how you view me? I thought I was a tyrant.”

“You can be both—youareboth,” she replies with a smirk. “But I’d take tyrant over a ghost any day.”

“Glad to hear it,” I say. I lean closer, allowing the moment to linger, and she does as well. Our eyes don’t break contact, and, for a second, the air surrounding us suddenly becomes tensewith something alien. I don’t know what it is, but we both seem to notice it, backing away at the same time.

Before she can say anything else, I decide to act on instinct. She’s right. She’s been cooped up here for too long, and maybe... maybe we need a break from all this tension between us—something to take her mind off everything, even if just for a little while.

“Go get dressed,” I tell her, moving toward the kitchen. “Casual. I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

She frowns. “Why?”

I turn to face her, a small smirk playing on my lips. “You’ll see. Just trust me.”

She gives me an exasperated look but gets up and heads toward her room. Good.

She could use the distraction, and honestly, so could I.

***

When I meet her downstairs in the garage thirty minutes later, I can tell she’s trying to hide her excitement. It’s in the way she keeps glancing around, and her lips twitch like she wants to smile but is holding it back. I have eight luxury cars here, but she has her eyes on the covered bike in the corner. I walk over to my bike and pull off the cover as her eyes widen.

“You ride a motorbike?” she asks, surprise clear in her voice.

I grin, grabbing the helmets from the back. “I do. And I have a feeling you’re going to enjoy it.”

Her eyebrows lift, and I see something other than frustration or anger in her expression for the first time in days. She’s intrigued. Curious.

I hand her a helmet, watching as she hesitates for a moment before taking it and putting it on. Once she’s ready, I grab her with one arm by the waist and hoist her onto the back of the bike with ease. I hop on the bike and look back at her. “You ready?”

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