Page 31 of Accidentally Knocked Up By the Bratva

"Zara, I'm so sorry," he says, his voice low and sincere. "My brother… he can be difficult. Whatever he said, please know that I don't share his suspicions."

I swallow hard, fighting back tears. "He thinks I'm after your money. But Abram, I swear I have never—"

"Shh," he soothes, placing a finger gently on my lips. "I know. I've never doubted your intentions for a second. You never let me, Zara. In fact, sometimes, I feel angry that you don’t enjoy the things Icanoffer."

His touch feels like a warm blanket, and I find myself leaning into him. Abram wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me closer.

"The truth is," he continues, his voice barely above a whisper, "I've been guarded for so long. But with you, I feel… different. Vulnerable, even. It scares me—but in the best way possible. I know that the only way to keep your interest is by being interesting. You keep me on my toes, Sweetheart."

My heart races at his admission. "I feel the same," I breathe.

Abram's hand comes up to cup my cheek, his thumb tracing my lower lip. The world around us fades away as I lose myself in the intensity of his gaze.

Not caring if the world sees, I close the distance between us, pressing my lips to his. The kiss is tender, sweet. Nothing matters anymore. The world and its opinions can go to hell. I melt into his embrace, savoring the way his strong arms make me feel safe.

When we finally break apart, I rest my forehead against his, our breaths mingling. "What are we doing, Abram?" I whisper, equal parts exhilarated and terrified.

He pulls back slightly, cupping my face in both hands. "I don't know," he admits with a soft chuckle. "But I do know that I want to find out. With you."

Chapter 11 - Abram

The numbers blur together on the financial reports spread across my desk. I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to focus. But I’ve been on these end-of-year financial reports for over three hours and am running out of steam. Running a Bratva unit generates a lot of paperwork, even if most of our business stays off the books.

The door to my office suddenly flies open with a bang. I jerk my head up, hand instinctively reaching for the gun holstered at my side. But it's only Vladimir, his face stormy as he strides toward me.

"We need to talk about Zara," he says without preamble, planting his hands on my desk and leaning in.

I lean back in my chair, forcing myself to appear relaxed even as tension coils in my gut. "What about her?"

Vladimir's eyes narrow. "She doesn't know who you really are, does she? What you do? Looking at how hurt she seemed at my accusations last night, I could tell."

“You played her!” I growl, slamming my fist on the table. “Do you know how much you hurt her last night?”

“I had to get to the bottom of the situation.” He glowers at me. “So my read is right?”

"Yes," I admit, my jaw tightening. "She doesn't."

"Are you out of your mind?" Vladimir hisses. "You're the head of one of the most powerful Bratva units in the city. A goddamn Zolotov. You can't keep her in the dark forever."

I stand, matching Vladimir's stance as I meet his gaze. "I'm handling it."

"Are you?" Vladimir scoffs. "Because from where I'm standing, you're putting both of you at risk. What happens when she finds out? Or worse, when our enemies realize you have a weakness they can exploit? We can’t have you going weak, Abram. We all depend on you."

His words strike a nerve, voicing the fears I've been trying to ignore. I think of Zara—her innocent smile, the way her eyes light up when she talks about her dreams. How can I taint that with the darkness of my world?

"I'll protect her," I growl, but even to my own ears, the words sound hollow.

Vladimir shakes his head, disappointment etched in the lines of his face. "You can't protect her from the truth forever, Abram. The longer you wait, the worse it will be when she finds out."

I sink back into my chair, suddenly feeling the weight of my choices pressing down on me. Vladimir's right, damn him. But the thought of losing Zara, of seeing fear replace the warmth in her eyes when she looks at me… it's almost more than I can bear.

I lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk and rubbing my temples. The tension throbs behind my eyes, a physical manifestation of the conflict raging within me.

"You don't understand, Vladimir," I say, my voice low and tight. "Zara's different. She's… pure. Untouched by our world. I can't just drag her into this mess."

Vladimir's eyes narrow, his frustration palpable. "And what about when she stumbles into it blindly? You think that's better?"

I clench my jaw, fighting back the surge of anger his words provoke. "I can handle it," I insist, even as doubt gnaws at the edges of my resolve. "I've kept her safe so far, haven't I?"

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