Page 72 of Brutal Bratva King

My brotheradoresher. He would do anything for her.

“What the hell—Anya. You look like someone dragged you backwards through a bush and stole all your birthday cake.” Raisa hurries over to me and sits down on the sofa next to me.

She pulls me into a hug and even though I try so fucking hard not to—I burst into tears.

“Honey, what’s going on?” she says softly, rocking me back and forth, letting me soak my tears into her shoulder.

“I—I—“ I can’t speak. My throat is closed tightly, and another wave of tears hits me.

“Hey, it’s ok, let it out.”

I cry until I have no more tears in me. Raisa is so patient and caring. She just sits with me, holding me and talking softly to me until I take a deep breath and manage to pull myself together a little bit.

If I can talk to anyone about this—it’s her.

“Anya—what’s going on?” she asks again, once I’ve gotten myself in order.

I look at her, pulling my mouth tight. Then I sigh. “I’m pregnant,” I blurt out, and it feels so good to say it out loud.

She smiles, but at the same time, her brows are knotted tightly. “I don’t understand—you don’t want a baby?” she asks, confused.

“I do, actually. I want to be happy about it. I want to be excited.”

“Then—why aren’t you? Is Rodion not happy about it?”

I bite my lip. “I haven’t told him yet,” I confess. “Please, Raisa, you can’t tell anyone. Not even Oleg. I need time to process everything.”

“But sweetie, why wouldn’t you want Rodion to know? He’s going to be so happy.”

I do my best to explain to her why I’m so nervous about it. She sighs, trying to convince me I’m wrong about her brother, that he has a really soft, giant heart and he wouldn’t treat me like that—but it doesn’t ease my fears.

I want to believe her, but what if she’s wrong?

After we have spoken about it I am a little more at ease, just because I’ve let the thoughts out into the world. It feels easier to handle them now. Like I can sort through them and figure out what to do. I make Raisa promise more than once not to tell a soul—and then I do my best to change the subject.

Even though it is all I can actually think about, I don’t want to burden Raisa with my problems when she is going through such a happy time in her life.

She talks to me about the designer she is working with to set up her baby’s new room. They’ve decided on a name, but they aren’t telling anyone until he’s born. I’m a bit jealous that they are close like that and want to keep certain things just between themselves as though it’s their secret and their adventure. Theylet the family in on certain things and then keep other things as their own. It’s quite beautiful, really.

It makes this journey theirs.

We chat for ages and I’m grateful because she does manage to distract me from my own stress. She kind of makes me excited, too, as I start thinking about what I’ll need to get and how I will want to decorate the room—and if I want a boy or a girl. I can’t really decide on any of these things now—not in the frame of mind I’m in currently—but at least I can start looking forward to it in the near future. With or without my husband’s support or love.

It’s starting to get late and I’m feeling drained from all the socializing when Oleg arrives to fetch Raisa. I’m relieved. I love having her here, but I need time to think and process my own things.

Oleg walks into the living room in high spirits, a massive smile on his face.

He walks straight over to Raisa and wraps his hand around her jaw, kissing her deeply.

“Hello, my love,” he says, kissing her nose and then her cheeks.

When he’s done gushing over his wife, he looks at me. “Heya, sister. What’s up with—what the hell, you look like shit,” he says, his face quickly changing from a smile to a deep frown of concern.

“Gee—thanks so much. How nice of you,” I mumble, fighting tears because absolutely everything is making me way too emotional these days.

Oleg walks over to me and stares into my eyes. “Whatis going on? I’m not joking, Anya—you look—depressed.”

“I’m not depressed. Calm down. I’m just having a bad day.” But to my horror—the tears are now streaming down my cheeks. Dammit. I never used to be this bad at controlling my emotions. Is this really what pregnancy does to people? I feel unstable.

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