Page 29 of Accidentally Knocked Up By the Bratva

"This is incredible," I say enthusiastically, like a child at Disneyland, my eyes wide as I try to take it all in. "I had no idea the gala was being held here. Ricci's collection is legendary in the art world and my gallery has been trying to score an invite to his showcases for years, but we never managed to get one."

Abram's lips curl into a smirk. "Shall we explore?"

Just then, a group of men pull Abram into their midst. Abram keeps his hand on my back. “This, gentleman,” he says, “is Zara Lyons.”

They smile at me politely, though unable to hide their curiosity. Abram doesn’t linger long, moving us forward. Over adozen people stop him in his path before we finally make it to the first exhibit.

All the while, I’m wondering how he knowssomany people.

We wander through the exhibits, pausing to admire various pieces. At a striking abstract painting, I can't help but comment, "The use of color here is breathtaking. It's like the artist captured raw emotion on canvas."

"Much like you've captured mine," Abram says, his intense gaze fixed on me rather than the artwork.

I feel a blush creeping up my neck. "Smooth talker. But tell me, what do you see when you look at this piece?"

His brow furrows in concentration. "Chaos. But also… hope. Like even in the darkest moments, there's a glimmer of light trying to break through."

I'm surprised by the depth of his response. "That's… unexpectedly poetic."

"I'm full of surprises, Solnyshko," he winks, leading me to the next piece.

As we continue our tour, I find myself increasingly drawn to Abram. His sharp wit outmatches none other, and he makes terrific company. The more time I spend with him, the more I want to get to know him.

"So, Mr. Mysterious," I tease, sipping champagne, "are you going to tell me how you really scored an invite to this exclusive event?"

Abram's eyes darken slightly. "Let's just say Matteo and I have a… mutually beneficial relationship."

I raise an eyebrow. "That sounds ominous. And how do you have so many friends?"

He chuckles and leans forward in a conspiratorial whisper. "Half these people are dull as hell. I wouldn’t necessarily call them friends. But let this be our little secret."

I laugh just as he pulls away. From the corner of my eye, I catch a group of women looking in our direction, whispering. For some reason, I feel as though they’re whispering about us.

Abram’s eyes follow my gaze, and his hands find mine, intertwining our fingers. “Don’t pay them any attention,” he tells me rather loudly. The women look shocked and turn their backs to us.

I try not to laugh. The simple gesture of protectiveness makes me crave him even more, and I lean right into him.

***

As Abram leads me toward another section containing sculptures, a flash of movement catches my eye. My breath hitches. Standing near a striking abstract sculpture is a man who bears an uncanny resemblance to Abram. The same chiseled jawline, the same imposing height. I’ve seen him before… but where?

Suddenly, it comes back to me. This is his brother, Vladimir. He’d walked in on us once during a meeting at Abram’s home. There’s something unnerving about him and how he watches us. Where Abram exudes warmth, his brother radiates an icy chill.

"Abram," I whisper, tugging gently on his sleeve, “Your brother.”

His eyes follow my gaze, and I feel him tense beside me.

Vladimir's steely gaze locks onto us, his lips curling into what might be a smile but looks more like a sneer. I can't help but notice how Vladimir's eyes keep darting between us as he walks over to us.

"Is everything okay between you two?" I whisper, trying to keep my voice light.

Abram sighs, running a hand through his hair. "It's complicated, Zara. Family always is. But we are close."

Vladimir now stands before us. “Brother,” he says, his gaze lingering on me the whole time.

“I didn’t think you were coming tonight, Vlad,” Abram says.

“And I didn’t think you were bringing company.” He gives me a cold smile before turning back to Abram.

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