Page 36 of Pregnant Bratva Virgin

“Hmm. I see your point, but nothing was meant by the comment, just I want to bring you closer into my life, and I want you to have the life you want to, within reason.” Winking, I do my best to lighten whatever cloudy tension exists between us, but I know it’s going to take some time. I thought revealing the truth about Willy would have softened her to me, but it’s added more division between us.

“I wanted to give you some information.” I wanted to tell her before we left the house, but seeing her looking so stunning, stole whatever words I planned to say right out of my mouth.

“What information is that?” She turns to me, her curls framing her face.

“That I’ve been able to find a liver donor for Laura’s transplant and that all is going well. She’s scheduled in for surgery next Thursday.”

Emily’s face lifts, a huge smile bringing me relief. Okay… I’m getting somewhere. “You have?”

“Yes. It works out well and ties into tonight. No, the surgeon won’t be in the room, but there’s new technology that might be something I invest in sometime in the future.”

“You twist me in so many ways, Ryurik.” Sighing, Emily rests her head back on the leather seat, but she’s not mad anymore, giving me a smile.

Scoffing, I raise an eyebrow in her direction. “I wouldn’t want our marriage to be boring, so that’s a good thing.”

“It’s definitely not going to be that,” Emily murmurs as the city lights of Chicago whir by and we get closer to the Orchestra Hall on Michigan Avenue.

The deep pink brick façade is lit up, giving it an amber hue as other guests slowly arrive to the iconic Georgian-style venue, spilling out of their expensive vehicles. I round to Emily’s door, helping her step out of the car and adjusting her dress. I made the driver stop right at the entrance, so she doesn’t have to walk far.

“Here we are.” Easily, I slip my hand into hers interlocking them. We’re husband and wife on paper, but realistically we are strangers joined in a convenient agreement, unless we want to change it. Touching Emily’s hand feels good to me, and all kinds of right. I set the pace, giving her time to take in her surroundings.

“Here we are,” she repeats as she smiles, gathering up the threads of her dress, but I can’t take my eyes off her, and neither can anybody else who sweeps past us. I watch them—watching her, the bronze shimmer on her shoulders gleaming under the lights.

God. I picked the most beautiful woman in the world to marry.Maybe it’s not going to be so bad at all for us.

Emily seems unfazed by all the glitz and glamor of the event, maintaining an unreadable expression as we stride side by side through the arched hallway. On the second floor is where the ball is being held, and there’s a sign leading us to the eventupstairs, including a red carpet that’s been draped all the way up the stairs.

I’ve expected to impress her at every turn by way of my tangible material possessions, connections, and the lifestyle I can give her, but instead, I watch her viewing all the people as they head up to the second floor, almost as if she’s wanting to commit them to memory.

Yes. Of course she is. She’s a cop. Why would she be intimidated?

Seeing her do this impresses me instead, but insecure thoughts creep in. Would she betray me now and turn me in? Does she have some other plan up her sleeve to leave? The Bratva might have a stranglehold on law enforcement in Chicago, but not everyone on the inside is dirty. Emily’s a marker of that, and the trust between us hasn’t been formed. We have training wheels on.

One of the men I spoke with on the phone approaches us, holding out his hand.

“Ah, Mr. Utkin. Thank you for joining us tonight. And you’ve brought your lovely wife too. This is excellent.” The man’s practically grinning from ear to ear, and he should be after what I’ve contributed. For the Bratva and for me, it’s a small amount of money.

“Hamish, thank you for inviting us. Happy to be here,” I tell him. What Emily doesn’t know is behind the scenes I made a sizable donation to the Heart and Liver center, to push Laura to the top of the list. Now, most would call that a bribe, but where can I reward people for doing as I say. I paid one of the top transplant doctors in the country to be on call for her surgery, and he’s made himself available, even though he lives on the West Coast and has two other private surgeries. Naturally, he moved those patient dates to later in the month.

I also flew in the best liver possible from a donor patient across the country, and provided it’s a match for her, Laura will be living her best possible life in the next six weeks.

“You’re welcome. Please come in and enjoy the refreshments and food. Ella will escort you to your VIP table on the right of the stage. You’ll have a front row seat to the orchestra. It’s set to be a magnificent affair tonight.”

“That sounds wonderful. I’ve been here once before to watch the Brass Symphony Jazz event. It was one of the most sonically pleasing events I’ve ever attended,” Emily says eloquently to Hamish. His appreciation is evident, and a spark of jealousy enters as I smile at him.

Don’t look at my wife that way. She’s mine.

“Oh, you saw that? My wife Cynthia and I attended, and it was simply magnificent to hear.”

Now I’m the one impressed. I didn’t know Emily was so well versed and poised, but every day I’m learning more and more about her. Emily nods, her natural charm taking over as I grab us both a drink. Handing it to her smoothly, I let my envy slide back down. Logically he’s not going to try anything, but I still want to whisk her away from him.

“Yes. I saw it.”

“Hamish, sorry to cut the conversation short, but there’s a few people I want to introduce my wife to.”

“Absolutely. Mingle. Find your table and enjoy the event.” We weave through the round black tableclothed tables with our escort as the room fills up, the temperature increasing, and I introduce her to more people, including my own associates.

“You’re a great conversationalist,” I remark as we nibble on our entrees.

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