Page 32 of Pregnant Bratva Virgin

It’s what I have to do. Bratva rules this way. What else could I do?

A deep part of me doesn’t want to ruin her life like this, and it’s my fault as much as it is hers. I could have worn protection, but maybe it’s supposed to be by design that it’s this way. I can’t think about marrying another woman. Emily Wilson has been my secret obsession since I locked eyes with her on the dance floor in the club.

“Thank you. You look handsome too,” she replies in a muffled voice with a quick glance. I’m not looking any different than all the other major events I’m forced to attend in a navy-blue suit, silver tie and a crisp white shirt. Emily in her dress is the star of the show.

Smiling, we both look to the priest to bond us together in holy matrimony, my associates and parents looking on at the fake marriage. If there’s one quality I’ve discovered about Emily, it’s that she’s loyal. She’s willing to sacrifice her life for a woman who did the same for her.

“Please repeat the vows after me. I, Ryurik Utkin, take you, Emily Wilson to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward.”

Repeating the words, Emily’s hands shake even more as I hold them study, rubbing the backs of them, the dappled multicolored light from the stained glass shining through as the perfect backdrop. Sighing, I smile at her, serious about my vows repeating the priest’s words to her.

When it’s her turn, I loosen my hands, hers still, lip quivering as she delivers the lines.

“For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health.” Her words waver as she speaks, but she follows through, a burst of euphoria rushing as fast as a river through my veins.

“You may now kiss the bride.” I lower my head, excited to kiss her satiny lips again, never having tasted as fine a wine as her. It was my golden rule not to kiss any of the women I fucked, but Emily turned me into a cardinal sinner, and she’s the one I broke it with. It makes complete sense for me to marry the only woman who backed me into that corner. A fire erupts inside me, thinking of how this kiss is a prelude for what’s bound to happen tonight. She’s responsive enough as our mouths connect in a light kiss, colliding like two sparks. When I open my eyes, I know she felt it too.

Emily. If you only know what you do to me.

She belongs to me, and this time she can’t escape. There’s no lengthy after wedding reception photos and definitely no fanfare. Ours is a silent and controlled agreement where both parties understand the consequences. Our signatures are scrawled in ink, binding us together to obtain our marriage license, and afterwards we return to our home via the town car. This one is not the downtown apartment where I held her captive, but our real home together on the outskirts of Chicago. Clasping her hand in the back of the town car, I pour her a sparkling water in celebration.

“Here you go.” Handing it to her, she takes it—shy, but sipping, her face displaying confusion as the driver passes by the Magnificent Mile. Smirking, I squeeze her hand, but she discreetly pulls it back.

“What is it?”

“I knew it.” Emily glances in my direction as the driver slices through the traffic with Viktor in a separate car trailing behind towards my place. “You have two homes.”

“Yes. Well.No.Technically, I have five, but those other three are real estate investments. The one you were in is for the times I’m working late, and it’s too far for me to come home. I conduct much of my business from there,” I explain as Emily nods in recognition, her body guarded from mine. I’ve got my work cut out if I want to break down her defenses. “It would never be my home; it’s too small.”

“Of course not,” she stabs back, her eyes slicing through me. “You’re a billionaire,” she mutters as I study her. “It’s a shame abouthowyou make your money.”

I ignore her judgment, choosing to only respond to the billionaire remark. “Not quite. My cousin is, but I’m in the ballpark,” I reason with a disarming grin, knowing soon if I join the Vegas venture with Paul that I’m going to be right up there with them.

“Right. Another place you’re taking me.”

“Don’t worry. This one’s home,” I tell her as we move through the iron wrought gates to the driveway, the sprawling gardens, immaculate as we approach my small mansion with its pillars holding up the foundation of the two-story home.

“It’s fantastic,” Emily compliments, the smile planted on her face displaying sadness, but somehow it only makes her even more beautiful.

“Yes. And now it’s yours too to share and enjoy with me as we build our family together.” The light dims in her eyes just a touch, but we warm up as I give her the grand house tour explaining that she’s free to come and go as she pleases. No morelock up. But by nightfall, as she sits sulking on the couch in her silk pajamas, the warmth has run out.

She’s holding on to one of the pillows for dear life, and it clicks as I put the puzzle together. “Ah, do you plan on sleeping out here?” I chuckle, because I’m not letting her do that. “Get back to the bedroom.”

“No, why should I?” she whines, her curls still intact from styling.

“Because I’m your husband now. You signed the papers, and you’re going to do what I say. Besides there’s no point sulking over a filthy cop.”

The comment grabs her attention, her head jerking up as I smile slowly back at her with a nod. “What did you say?”

“I think you heard me just fine. Willy enjoyed his kickbacks, but he got a little too comfortable in his position.” Emily stares at me unblinking, her body stiffening as she registers the shocking truth. “Quiet now, are we?” I taunt.

“Nice fucking try, Ryurik. Willy would never betray his department,” she hisses, her fiery passion igniting me even more as she punches the pillow.

“Everybody has their price, beautiful wifey. Now come to bed.” I stroke her head, but she swats me away, amusing me greatly. I’ve got her right where I want her.

“Shut up. This is a game to you. You won’t have one to play by the time I’m done,” she threatens. Smirking, I sit down at the end of the couch, tickling her padded feet. She retracts them, but she’s smiling. “Don’t!I’m ticklish. Stop, Ryurik,” she whines, giving rise to a smile on my lips.

“There you are. Don’t be so stubborn. We have a queen-size bed and it’s very comfortable. Or would you prefer I carry you over my shoulder to the bedroom?”

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