Page 25 of Pregnant Bratva Virgin

Small-fry payment, but it wasn’t done because of the amount. It was out of principle and the Utkin reputation. Nobody shortcuts me on payment.Ever.If they do, they receive a similar torture routine or worse—they die, like poor Willy.

Tonight.We fuck around. Akim—my cousin is with me, as well as Sergei, Viktor, and other close company. There are numerous bottles of alcohol on the oval glass table in front of us. There are women too. Women with big tits, fake asses, thin girls, hot girls, and my guys can take their pick from the very available buffet on offer.

The club is back in full swing and I’m feeling like I should be in a celebratory mood given I scouted out a new venue for my illegal card shark games to continue. I also signed a crucial distribution deal in New York to push my product through Jarvis’s network, courtesy of an introduction through Dimitri.

There’s a lot to love about being a part of the brotherhood. Connections are key, and we have plenty of them. We help one another. “Plenty here tonight,” Akim puffs, lettingthe cigar smoke float to the top of the room as the music reverberates on the plush velvet-cushioned walls.

“Sure is. All of them are blonde. None of them have dark hair.” Akim laughs throatily, pulling at the threads of his dark hair and punching me in the arm.

“You’re complaining about their hair color? Ryurik, you’ve been letting the cigar smoke go to your head. Who gives a flying fuck about the color on their head or anywhere else,” he shouts over the beat of the music as one of the women on his lap giggles with another, then takes a shot with her friend. “There’s fresh pussy in here! Women who want to have all-nighters with you. Switch on, Cousin!” He slaps the side of my face, and I want to slap him back because thereissomething wrong.

I can’t find anything I’m looking for in their shallow faces. They’re as bland as stale crackers and without variation. “Icare about their hair color. You picked what you like.” I sound ridiculous I realize and even want to take myself out of the equation for the night.

“Alright, Ryurik. I’m going to let you have a sulk in the corner while I take over all the pussy. You can have my sloppy leftovers. Or should I give them to the boys?” he taunts, laughing his ass off and kissing into the hair of one of the women sitting on his lap.

I let my eyes roam over the crowd of women, my associates and family having fun, enjoying themselves like I should be. Why can’t I get into the swing of things for the night? I’m usually the life of the party and would be in the corner with the woman of my choice, letting her know what I plan to do to her later in the evening, but not tonight.

“You’re quiet tonight. Something on your mind?” Viktor asks.

“Nope. Nothing,” I tell him quickly, but it isn’t the truth, and my head is stinging from the painful realization. I’m looking for a detective. Oh yes, I am. I’m looking forthedetective in all the women I see in the room, because if I can bed one of these women who looks like Emily Wilson, then in my mind, it would help shake her hooks out of my system.

But the reality is, there’s no replacement for Emily. She’s truly one of a kind. I let this sink in, and suddenly all the people in the room start suffocating me. I need to get out. I’m too occupied with her, and I don’t want to know why. Maybe it’s because of the challenge she represents, and that really, I should just pick one of these overeager women, lay them on their back and fuck them.

But my cock isn’t hard for any one of them, and as I rise out of my seat and head to the door, I know it’s not going to get hard for them either. I pull out a cigar, heading into the back alleyway to smoke and clear my head. The sky is deep violet, and there’s a thread of purple clouds gathered around the moon that are worth looking at.

Lighting up my cigar, I inhale, hating the scene I created with all the women. None of them are impressive. Not smart like Emily. Or willing to challenge me. I blow out the smoke, watching it cover the moon, with no answers about her effect on me.

Footsteps behind me perk up my ears, but I’m not afraid. I don’t draw my gun, and I probably should, but the only people who know about this exit point are my associates and a chosen few of my staff. Nobody comes out here without me knowing about it.

“Boss.” It’s Viktor and it’s fine by me.

“Yeah?” I don’t turn around waiting for him to stand beside me, my eyes pinned to the moonlight. “Nice night tonight, Viktor. Perfect night for a party,” I muse glumly.

“Yeah. For some. What—you’re not feeling it?”

“No. I’m not. You have something to say on it?”

Viktor chuckles, sensing the change in my tone. “I have some information you might be interested in that could change your mood,” he reasons, and now I give him a sideways glance.

“And what might that be?”

“Our good detective.”

I feel the blood rush back to my cock, a fire lighting inside me. Yes. Ms. Wilson is the only one I want to know about. “What about her?” I ask calmly, the beat of my heart increasing.

“I found out a lot about her. Just like you asked,” he remarks proudly.

“Then don’t just stand there. Tell me what you found out.”

“She was raised by a foster mother. Her name is Laura Wilson and she’s been caring for the good detective since she was ten years old. She was in Darcy’s Home for Boys and Girls before that. I’m still working on the part of finding out who her biological father and mother are. Those records are a little harder to get to.”

My mouth forms a tight line, but I’ve been revived. That’s why she’s not afraid to challenge me. She has nothing to lose, and justice is important to her.I see you, Ms. Wilson.That’s why she was on the planning committee for the Golden Hearts organization. She grew up in the foster system. Now I wonder what happened to her there. If she was properly taken care of. Who fought for her, or did poor little Emily have to fend for herself.

She’s tougher than I thought. “Good work. Where’s her foster mother now and how often does she see her?” I ask.

“She sees her almost every day. She hasn’t missed a day this week. The thing is her mother is hospitalized right now, and she’s got a rare liver disease. She’s on a transplant list, but it hasn’t been paid for yet.”

Turmoil. Weakness. A smirk lights up my mouth as I stare at the moon some more. “Why hasn’t she paid for it?”

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