Page 56 of Bratva Baby

He sets the menu aside. “You need to eat. The doctor said a balanced diet, right? Order something decent.”

I bristle at the reminder, but it’s softened by the humor in his expression. “Fine.” I scan the menu again and pick a dish that sounds halfway appetizing. Honey-glazed salmon with some fresh greens on the side.

Once our orders are in, Grigor leans back, observing me. “How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I feel?” I snap, a bit sharper than intended. “My father just disowned me, and I’m pregnant with a baby I didn’t plan, living in a mafia war zone. Not exactly the dream scenario.”

He half-smiles, though there’s empathy in his eyes. “Fair enough. I was just checking.”

I sigh, dropping my shoulders. “Sorry. I’m just… It’s been a day.”

He nods and drums his fingers on the table. Then he surprises me by reaching across to take my hand. “I’m trying here, Seraphina. I’m not exactly the romantic type, but I figured I could take you out, maybe distract you from… everything.”

A tiny warmth blossoms in my chest. “You’re not the romantic type at all, but this is… nice. Thank you.”

He lifts a brow. “Don’t spread it around. I have a reputation to maintain.”

I can’t help the small laugh that slips out. “Noted.”

The waiter returns, pouring water and presenting a basket of fresh bread. Grigor thanks him with a curt nod, then focuses on me again. We fall into an unexpected banter, first about the food, then about random details. He tries to tell me about a time Maksim nearly burned down the garage, and I nearly spit out my water laughing. He asks about my childhoodwith Cecily, and though painful memories stir, I find myself smiling at some of the lighter recollections.

When the main courses arrive, I realize I’m actually hungry. The food is exquisite—perfectly seasoned fish, tender vegetables. I catch Grigor watching me as I take a few bites.

“You don’t always have to stare,” I tease, lifting a forkful to my mouth. “It’s a bit unnerving.”

“Apologies,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “Hard to resist when you finally look content.”

I roll my eyes but feel a flutter of pleasure at the comment. For the first time in ages, I relax enough to enjoy a decent meal in his company. The conversation shifts, and we skirt around heavier topics, focusing instead on small glimpses of normalcy. We speak about favorite foods, odd childhood habits, and the music we used to listen to.

His face lights up when he describes his mother’s cooking, how she used to make a stew that could cure any illness. I can’t stop smiling as he recounts a story about Dmitri trying to replicate it and failing miserably. It’s startling to see this side of him—less guarded, more willing to share. I find myself leaning closer, laughing softly at each anecdote.

And then it hits me: I’m enjoying this. I’m enjoying him. The man who threatened me, installed a tracker on my phone, and nearly killed my father. Yet here he is, making me laugh, ensuring I eat, ensuring I’m comfortable. My heart clenches with the realization that somewhere along this tumultuous path, I’ve fallen in love with Grigor Barkov.

The thought both terrifies and exhilarates me. I watch him sip his drink, and I catch the way his gaze flits to my stomach briefly. He promised to spare my father for the sake of this baby, for the sake of me. My father’s disowned me, butmaybe… maybe I can create a new family with Grigor, a stable one, in spite of the danger surrounding us.

By the time we finish dessert—a decadent chocolate creation that he insisted I try—my cheeks hurt from smiling. He pays the bill without fuss, then offers his arm, guiding me out. As I clutch his arm, a gentle sense of security washes over me.

“That was… surprisingly wonderful,” I admit, leaning my head against his shoulder for a moment as we walk to the car.

“I try. You deserve a good evening every now and then.”

Emotion wells up in my chest. “Thank you, Grigor. Really. I needed this.”

He nods and stops by the car. Before opening the door, he turns to me, catching my chin with his index finger. “We’ll figure it out, Seraphina. I promise you. Father or not, the Irish or not, we’ll protect this child.”

My eyes mist with tears again, but this time they’re happier tears. “Thank you,” I whisper, leaning in. He surprises me by meeting me halfway and pressing his lips to mine. It’s a gentle kiss, filled with promise, and it makes my toes curl with anticipation.

As he breaks the kiss, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, smiling. There will be plenty more battles and difficult moments, but for now, the air feels less tense, our relationship more solidified.

For the first time, I truly feel like part of the Barkov family.

Grigor opens the door and helps me inside before circling to the driver’s side. The car glides away from the restaurant with the city lights flashing past as we head home. I let my mind wander to a future where this baby grows up safe, maybe in aworld where I’m free from my father’s manipulations and Grigor is free from constant battles.

My phone buzzes in my purse, snapping me from my reverie. I fish it out and glance at the caller ID. Cecily. She rarely calls this late unless something’s wrong. I answer quickly. “Cecily? Are you okay?”

Her voice spills through the line in frantic, jumbled fragments. I can barely make out words: “Seraphina—they—I’m—Father—please—help—” The rest disintegrates into sobs and panicked breathing. My heart rate skyrockets.

“Cecily!” I say sharply, trying to keep my voice steady. “What’s happening? Where are you?”

---