Page 50 of Pregnant Bratva Virgin

Before I can answer a second stabbing pain shoots through my belly as I double over, moaning as water trickles down my leg. “Ryurik. I’m in labor. Grab my packed bag. It’s in the bottom of the walk-in closet. Phew.” Practicing the breathing techniques I learned, I expect Ryurik to fly into a panic, but he doesn’t. He follows my lead, heading to the bedroom to get my belongings.

I’m about to have my first child.

Chapter Twenty-Eight - Ryurik

I scan the road, willing myself not to rush, an accident on the way to the hospital would only add to the stress. This is the time when I have to step back and let Emily tell me what she needs. I keep a hand on Emily’s knee as she rings through to the hospital letting them know we’re on the way. I think I’ve got everything packed, but if I don’t, I can come back to the estate and get it.

I study the traffic, willing it to move as it abruptly slows to a crawl in response.

“Fuck, come on!” I growl under my breath, hearing Emily breathing deeply next to me.

“It’s okay. We’ll get there when we get there. The baby’s not coming yet.”

“Sorry. I just want to get you there.”

“I know you do,” she says sweetly, calming me down when I should be doing that for her.

Chicago’s traffic can be a nightmare to navigate, but this late at night, maybe I thought it would be a quicker run to the hospital. Frowning, I crane my neck to see if there’s been an accident or a holdup somewhere.

At least it’s moving. That’s a good sign.

Gripping the steering wheel, I slide in and out of the traffic, getting Emily to the hospital in good time. Once we’re inside the hospital everything’s a whirlwind. Emily’s contractions are coming on strong, and I keep her company, holding her hand, and keeping a wet towel across her forehead when she asks for it.

I smirk because despite it all, Emily’s still got her blunt sense of humor intact.

“You’re in good spirits. I’ve called Laura to come to the hospital, and I’ve told your friends. Is there anyone else you want to be here?” I ask her.

She ignores my question, wincing in pain as the midwives come in ready to deliver. “No. I need spirits. How long beforetheycome in here?” she requests as I wipe the sweat from her brow, chuckling.

“You’re funny, detective. Hang in there. I’m with you all the way,” I tell her, convinced I’m more nervous than her about our child.

“Numb from the waist down and sleepy. These are some good drugs; I can’t feel a thing. How about that shit?”

I grin, kissing Emily on the cheek. “There you are,” I whisper. “You look good in hospital-grade blue.”

Emily attempts to give me an eye roll, but it comes off as more of a sleepy smile. “I would look good in a brown paper bag.”

“I don’t know if they have one big enough,” I tell her playfully, my voice soft. “And, you and our little girl are going to be fine.”

When I look into the valley of her cinnamon eyes, I can’t wait to meet our daughter. We haven’t spoken about names that much, but when Emily and I see our little girl in person, I’ve got this feeling we’re going to know what to call her. I want to tell Emily now how I really feel inside, but it’s not the right time.

Emily’s become everything to me, wrapping her love around me like a creeper vine I don’t want to untangle from. I don’t understand the spell she’s woven on me, and how I’vefallen so quickly for a detective who I deemed to be my enemy not that long ago? But I have, and I can’t go back.

“A little girl.Wow.We are going to have a girl. Happy with that?” Emily asks me as I kiss her forehead, and the midwife gets her ready to push.

“I’m happy with ten toes and fingers,” I tell her in a hoarse voice, so in love with the woman having my child. And that’s a word I’ve never taken lightly. Even with my own loved ones. But with Emily I want to sing the words from the rooftops.

“Me too, Ryurik, me too,” she replies with a light pant as a quiet pandemonium begins in the room.

Everything starts to become a blur, between the contractions, the midwives and the doctor’s coming in and out of the room. All sorts of irrational fears start to crop up in my mind, and this isn’t something I can do anything about or fix.

What if she doesn’t make it through the pregnancy? I keep thinking about Laura and how she almost didn’t pull through. And I didn’t help myself by feeding my worries with bleak stories on childbirths where the mother didn’t make it. Emily’s own mother didn’t survive, and here we are with the same possibility in front of us. Being a man of the Bratva world, I understand how things can go sideways quickly.

“I’m right here, Emily. You can do this,” I encourage as the midwife directs her and Emily squeezes my hand.

“Start pushing, I can see the crown wanting to come through.”

What am I going to do if she doesn’t make it? I can’t lose her. Not now. Not ever.

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