Page 31 of Pregnant Bratva Virgin

“Excuse me?” Staring at him incredulously, I balk. “Did you mention marriage? Is that what you just said?”

“Yes.” Ryurik takes his hands off me, but I can’t get my brain to compute what he just said to me.

“But what—how?” I rush out, wanting to bang my head against the room wall. “We are fucking enemies. I’m a cop, and you’re a criminal.”

Ryurik stands still looking down at me. “But before you knew that you were in bed with me,” he replies in an overpowering tone that ripples down my spine. “You’re attracted to me, and I’m attracted to you.”

“Ryurik!You can’t keep me here. This isn’t logical or rational.”

Ryurik stares at me unblinking and it’s clear to him it’s completely normal and rational. “This has nothing to do with being logical or rational, Ms. Wilson. We are going to be married and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Why?” I ask him, my voice strained.

He shrugs nonchalantly, letting out a deep sigh. “This is the Bratva, and it’s the way things are done. September 18. One week from today, we marry.” Swaying on my feet, the life and career I’ve decided to build for myself flash before my eyes.

“Wha—wha.” The word floats off my tongue and somewhere, somehow, they become tangled up in the process. I’m not going to make it and maybe neither is the baby. Ican’tmarry Ryurik. He’s the enemy, the one I’ve been hunting, and Jackson—he’s going to kick my ass. The police department is going to turn on me. I’m going down, collusion with a criminal, let alone having a baby with one is not a good look.

“If you fall in line and comply with my rules and conditions, I will give you the money you need for Laura’s surgery.” Ryurik reaches inside his jean pocket, pulling out a folded letter, handing it to me. Shakily, I open it noticing the logo from the hospital in the top corner.

Oh shit. He’s got access to the hospital. How did he get her medical records so fast? I want to say something to him, but don’t have the right words. At first the words are all jumbled up on the page and hard to read, but I blink as Ryurik waits in front of me patiently. Studying the letters on the page, I read down further, part of me dying on the inside.

Please, no. The words hammer home in my brain.If Laura’s condition doesn’t improve and continues to decline at such a rapid rate her condition will become life threatening.

Handing the letter back to him, I let the numbness take over my body, a single tear sliding down my cheek. Everything I’ve worked for is running down the drain, and I can’t do anything about it. I wonder if Stacy and Kiara will begin to worry and come looking for me. And how long will it take for them to forget I ever existed.

“Keep the letter,” I tell him croakily as I keep my eyes from Ryurik.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way, but it’s tradition. You will bear my child, and we will be married. That’s the Bratva way. The Bratva don’t have children out of wedlock and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

The finality of my doomed future hits me hard as I stand with the rain and wind pummeling the windows behind me in the epicenter of Chicago.

It’s over.My life is completely done for.

Chapter Eighteen - Ryurik

It took a few days for her to agree, but after a couple of arguments, Emily decided it was for the best.

“I want to be clear. This isn’t because I care about you. I want to save Laura. I have to. I can’t let her sit and rot in that hospital after all the years she’s spent caring for me. She’s the only mother I’ve ever known and want to know.”

“Understood. But you’re going to marry me whether you like it or not.”

She dabbed at her eyes as I stood in the suite in front of her. I said nothing, but inside her speech tore me apart. I envied her connection with Laura and what she was willing to do to save her. Yes. My family would do the same if they needed, but because of the money I have, they probably wouldn’t have to.

I didn’t know a love like the one she was so willing to defend. I grew up normally, but the expectations placed on my shoulders were extremely high. I hung out with friends and street rats my parents didn’t approve of, but today those dedicated and loyal street rats are my valiant soldiers sprawled out on the streets of Chicago, choking out the competition until they are no longer, and we run this town under Bratva rule. My cousins and I are close, but we fight for territory, power, and the highest seat in the Pakhan. It’s not the nurturing cozy type of relationship it could be, so yes, Emily’s loyalty to her adopted mother is admirable.

She doesn’t have a job anymore for the Chicago police force. Besides she doesn’t need it, and I will make it so she never has to work again. Unless she chooses to. That part will be left out for now. I don’t want her to think it’s an immediate option.Emily’s going to raise our child and make sure she has what she needs and that’s what is most important.

September 18 has arrived and as I stand near the altar with my immediate Bratva family surrounding me, I’m nervous. There’s a hard tick in my chest as the traditional wedding music echoes through the chamber of the small chapel. Picking it on autopilot, I’m not sure if it’s the best option in the first place. I’m not overly religious, but it feels right to marry Emily in a chapel.

Dimitri, Ruslan, Viktor, and my mother and father are present, having met Emily briefly during the week in a rushed family introduction. Adjusting my tie, I feel uneasy knowing it didn’t go so well. Emily barely spoke the entire time as my mother badgered her with inappropriate comments about the Chicago police department and disgracing the Bratva.

“Only time will tell if you’re fit to be a part of this family, but taking down my son isn’t going to work well for you.”

I didn’t want them at odds, and inside I hated the bitter resentment shining in Emily’s eyes. As she walks down the aisle, my heart expands, pricks of heat behind my eyes. She looks like a princess in her cream wedding dress, showing off her curves. Her decolletage is on display, but it’s tasteful with a plunging neckline, the draping hugging her figure in all the right places.

The bottom half of the dress flares out from her curvy hips, adding sophistication and class to her, elevating her look. From head to toe she is breathtakingly beautiful. The stylist did a fantastic job and her makeup is flawless, like her. Standing up straight, I watch as she takes every step closer to me, thinking about our life together. There’s something special about her, and I want to know more. I might not have married her on the right terms, but we can end on high.

“You look beautiful,” I whisper, words not enough to describe how I feel about her, but as she places her soft handsin mine, I clasp mine over the top to stop them from trembling, sadness covered up with her eyes. My heart sinks a little.

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