Page 23 of Accidentally Knocked Up By the Bratva

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach. Abram's smoldering gaze flashes through my mind, sending a shiver down my spine. What am I doing? It's too soon to feel this way about him. I smooth down my red dress, second-guessing my decision to see him again.

"You're just getting to know him," I whisper to myself. "Don't get attached."

But even as I say the words, I can't ignore the flutter of excitement in my chest. There's something magnetic about him that draws me in despite my reservations. I shake my head, steeling my resolve. I won't sleep with him, not until I'm sure we have more than just physical chemistry.

I put on some heels, but something doesn’t feel right.

“God damn it,” I moan, shedding off the dress. I pick out another and slip into a slinky black dress that hugs my curves, the hem hitting mid-thigh. The neckline dips low, showing just enough cleavage to be enticing without crossing into trashy territory. I swipe on a deep red lipstick, the color bold against my tanned skin.

Now, I lookhot.

"You've got this," I say with a smile, giving myself one last appraising look before heading out.

In the cab, I replay our conversations in my head. The easy banter as I selected paint swatches for his penthouse. His genuine apology after trying to win me over with expensive gifts.

"Please don't let this be a mistake," I whisper; it’s more prayer than a statement.

My heart flutters as the cab reaches its destination. I step out, and the moment I do, I see Abram outside, leaning against the brick wall with his hands in his pockets. Our eyes meet, and a slow smile spreads across his face, its warmth flooding me.

This definitely doesn’tfeellike a mistake.

I wave at him and remember just then I have to pay for the cab. I dig into my purse and hear footsteps. I turn to see him now standing by my side, reaching for his wallet.

"I've got it," I insist stubbornly, handing cash to the driver before Abram can protest.

He raises an eyebrow but doesn't argue. "Shall we?" he asks, offering his arm.

I take it, relishing his warmth. “You look stunning, by the way,” he says. I turn to see his eyes sweeping over me, head to toe. Heat creeps into my cheeks. I smooth my little black dress, suddenly self-conscious but give him a playful wink. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

In dark jeans and a tailored blazer over a charcoal t-shirt, he’s the picture of casual elegance. The sight of him makes my breath catch.

Abram takes my hand and leads me inside the dimly lit space, atmospheric indie music playing over the speakers. “Our table’s this way.”

“You come here often?” I ask, glancing around at the mix of intimate booths and high tables.

A wry smile. “Often enough. I like the ambiance.” He pauses, then adds, “And the company tonight, of course.”

Warmth floods me again, and I duck my head to hide my smile.Stay guarded.

As we approach our table, a few people call out greetings and stand mid-way through meals to greet him. He introduces me smoothly each time with a charming smile on his face, his hand never leaving the small of my back. Powerful, I realize. Well-connected.

"You seem to know everyone," I comment, trying to hide how overwhelmed I feel.

Abram chuckles. "Occupational hazard. Comes with the territory."

“And what territory is that again?” I ask curiously, wanting to understand the nature of his family business, but he probably doesn’t hear me over the din of the background because I don’t receive an answer.

He leads me to a private booth, and as we slide into our seats, I catch him looking at me, his gaze lingering a bit longer than necessary. My cheeks warm under his scrutiny.

Abram reaches across the table to take my hand. “Thank you for coming tonight, Zara.” His gaze holds mine, pale grey eyes gleaming in the low light. “I wasn’t sure you’d follow through on that, yes.”

“I almost didn’t.” The admission slips out before I can stop it. I clear my throat, my pulse racing. “I mean—I’m glad I did.”

Abram looks at me incredulously, his eyes crinkling, and he bursts into a deep laugh. “Well, one thing’s for sure. I never have to worry about what’s on your mind. Brutally honest, aren’t you?” He makes a motion like he is clutching his heart, and it’s so endearing that I feel myself begging to reach across and kiss him.

But I don’t.

Because that could lead to sex. And tonight, I want there to be no expectations or pressure. We order drinks and begin talking about everything and anything under the sun.

---