Page 30 of Accidentally Knocked Up By the Bratva

There’s a strange undercurrent of tension, yet I can’t put a cause behind it. The two brothers stand, having a strange, silent conversation through expressions I can’t decipher.

“The artwork is beautiful, isn’t it?” I add, trying to ease the tension.

“Valuable, yes,” Vladimir says, turning to face me. “Priceless, in fact. Costs a fortune.”

Beside me, Abram tenses. I frown as well, wondering what Vladimir is insinuating. I’m an art curator, for god's sake. I don’t need to be told how valuable the pieces are… in three different ways.

Before any of us can say another word, a portly man in an expensive suit approaches Abram. "Mr. Zolotov! Just the man I wanted to see. Can I borrow you for a moment?"

Abram hesitates, his eyes flickering between me and the man. "Of course, Pavel. Zara, will you be alright for a few minutes?"

“Don’t worry, Brother. I’ll keep her company,” Vladimir says, a little too fast.

I nod and give Abram a smile. "Go ahead. I'll be alright."

As Abram walks away, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up from how Vladimir speaks to me.

"So," he rumbles, "you're the little mouse my brother's been playing with."

His cold eyes appraise me like I'm a piece of merchandise, and it unnerves me. But, I don’t flinch. Instead, I tilt my head slightly, holding his gaze. "And you’re the brother who seems intent on making everyone uncomfortable." My tone is light but firm, not giving him an inch of power over me. “I’m Zara, by the way. I believe we’ve met before,” I extend out my hand.

Vladimir’s sneer falters slightly, but he recovers quickly. He, however, ignores my outstretched hand. "Tell me, Zara, does being with my brother feel… exciting?"

The insinuation is clear and I swallow hard, my heart racing as I try to process Vladimir's accusatory tone. His words echo in my mind, leaving me feeling small and exposed. The champagne glass in my hand trembles slightly as I struggle to maintain my composure.

I want nothing more than to put Vladimir in place here and now. But if things are to progress between Abram and I, I can’t exactly act on impulse. Not all bridges must be burned.

I laugh softly, shaking my head. "Wealth is fleeting. But I assure you, Vladimir, I’m here for far more than that." I meethis eyes, letting him know I won’t be intimidated. “He’s a lovely person, and Abram and I are just getting to know each other.”

Vladimir's lips curl into a sneer. "Of course. And I'm sure access to parties like this and fancy dinners have nothing to do with your interest."

His insinuation stings and I feel a lump forming in my throat. I want to defend myself, to explain that I’ve turned down every expensive gift Abram’s ever tried giving me, but the words won't come. Instead, I say a hurried goodbye and turn away, pretending to study a nearby painting as I blink back tears.

For a few minutes, I wander through the gala in a daze, barely registering the beautiful artwork around me. My mind keeps replaying Vladimir's words, casting a shadow over everything I imagined Abram’s family to be.

In my heart, this is a greater dream shattering than just hoping that the man I’m seeing has a good family. This is about the hope I clung on to, that other families aren’t all about money like mine were. And slowly, the reality I wanted to run from seems to become ever-present. His too, clearly, keeps money at the forefront. I wipe away tears, praying no one notices.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Abram's voice startles me out of my reverie.

I plaster on a smile that doesn't reach my eyes. I don’t want to cause any undue conflict between Abram and his brother. Whatever Vladimir said, it’s between him and I. "Yes, it's… lovely."

Abram's brow furrows as he studies my face and sees the tints of red in my eyes. "Zara, what's wrong? You seem… different."

"It's nothing," I lie, avoiding his gaze. "Just a bit tired."

He gently takes my elbow, guiding me toward a quiet corner. "No, it's more than that. Did something happen while I was gone?"

I bite my lip, torn between my desire to be honest and my fear of causing trouble. "I… no, nothing, just…" I can’t bring myself to admit the truth.

Abram's eyes narrow, and I see a flash of something dangerous in them. "You were speaking with my brother when I left you. What did Vladimir say to you?"

“Nothing, really,” I protest, trying to turn away, but he grabs my hand. “Zara…” he says, his voice a slow growl of warning. “If it’s honesty you want, then it’s your turn to come clean now.”

To defy that logic with a lie would go against the very grain of what I expect from him.

“He had his doubts about why I’m with you,” I admit, lowering my gaze. “Something about enjoying your wealth,” I manage to say.

Abram's jaw clenches as he processes my words. His eyes soften as they meet mine, a mix of regret and tenderness swirling in their depths.

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