Page 51 of Accidentally Knocked Up By the Bratva

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "He’s good to me,” I reply.

Denis scoffs. "And you think you're equipped to handle our world? The dangers, the responsibilities?"

"I'm a quick learner," I reply, meeting his gaze steadily. "And I'm not afraid of challenges."

Mark interjects, his tone diplomatic. "What about your own ambitions, Zara? Surely, you must have plans of your own."

I pause, considering my words carefully. "I do. I've always dreamed of opening my own art gallery. I see no reason why my own dreams must have a backseat. I'm willing to find a balance."

Vladimir leans back, a hint of approval in his eyes. "Interesting. And how do you plan to contribute to our family's… business interests?"

I feel Abram tense beside me, but I press on. "I may not have experience in your way of life but I do have other things: discretion, loyalty, and a fresh perspective. And as for what doesn’t suit my tastes, your family is large enough to handle all that, don’t you think? I’ve heard about your cousins, Ivan and Boris."

“True,” Denis whistles, leaning back with a smile. “Besides, the women usually prefer managing the homes.”

I suddenly feel nervous, wondering if that’s what this family expects of me. Babies, running a home? I look over at Abram, nervous beyond belief, but the tension is diffused when Lara scoffs and throws a piece of bread in her brother’s direction. “Speak for yourself!”

I watch her, amazed, while Mark roars with laughter.

“Lara here,” Abram explains, “helps run her husband’s family business.”

“Oh?” I ask, intrigued and relieved that being a homemaker isn’t what I would be reduced to. “And what is it he does?”

“Shoot, kill, steal, Darling,” Mark sings with a notorious grin. “Just like the rest of us.”

I grin, realizing the jokes make them all seem so… normal. They might be in the Bratva, but hell, they’ve got a sense of humor.

“He’s away on business,” Lara explains sweetly. “But yes, I do help him out.”

“And you don’t…get afraid?” I ask, unable to help myself.

She looks at me like a curious cat but gives me a soft shake of the head. “I was initially,” she tells me. “But with time, this world toughens you up.”

“Do you think you have that?” Vladimir asks, squinting his eyes at me. “You look… soft.”

“Vlad,” Abram warns in a low growl.

“What, Brother? She thinks she understands our world, but she hasn’t seen a man being shot to death now, has she?”

"Well, well," Lara says, her lips curving into a smirk. “Trying to scare her off, Vlad? Don’t you worry.” She leans toward me. “They act all big and bad but are little boys at heart. Trust me, it’s not that bad.”

I can't help but feel a spark of kinship with her as she clinks her glass against mine. "Thank you," I reply, offering a small smile. “You’re a real ally.”

Lara chuckles, a warm sound that eases some of the tension in the room. "So, Zara, tell me about yourself. What do you do when my charming brothers are not grilling you?"

"I'm an interior decorator and art curator," I say, grateful for the change in tone. "I manage a gallery downtown.”

Her eyes light up. "No way! I've always wanted to invest in art. But it’s impossibly subjective."

I lean in, excited to share my passion. "Oh, it can be tricky, but I could teach you the secrets. It's all about getting the right value at the right time. It’s the upcoming artists that make the best investments now unless you’re willing to drop tens of millions on the classics. But even with those, one will reach a point beyond which the purchase doesn’t make sense."

As Lara and I chat about art, I notice the atmosphere in the room shifting. Vladimir's stern expression softens slightly, and even Denis seems less combative. Mark nods approvingly as he listens to our conversation and begins to value my perspective.

"You know," Lara says, glancing at her brothers, "I think Zara here might be exactly what our family needs. A breath of fresh air, don't you think?"

I feel a warmth spreading through my chest as the siblings exchange looks. The interrogation gives way to more casual conversation, and I find myself relaxing into my chair. Abram's hand finds mine under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

As the evening progresses, I realize that the initial hostility has melted away. We're laughing at Denis's dry jokes, debating Mark's views on current events, and even Vladimir is asking my opinion on hotel interior matters.

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