Page 77 of Knocked-up Bratva Bride
Someone else took five hundred photos—Mama.
Nana brought in food we weren’t supposed to have, and, after a while, Damien gave me a silent nod before exiting the room to give me time with my family.
“I think he just tried to punch me,” I whispered to no one in particular.
“Already takes after his uncle,” my brother said from the corner, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“You were the same,” My mom said, her voice thick with emotion. “First thing you did when they put you on my chest was sneeze in my face. Like, ‘Hi, Mom, here’s a germ bomb.’”
“Classic Elena,” my brother added, tossing a grape into his mouth from the snack tray.
I looked over at my Nana. She was in the little armchair near the window, wrapped in her favorite lavender shawl even though it was barely cold in the room. Her eyes were soft and shining.
“He’s beautiful, Elena,” she said. “Looks just like your dad when he was born. Same serious face, like he’s already judging us all.”
Our wonderful laughter echoed off the hospital walls, and Leo blinked sleepily up at me, his crying finally fading into quiet coos.
“You’ve got a whole village, little man,” I whispered to him. “A weird, loving, loud village. You’re gonna be just fine.”
A loving village without Katya in it.
She would’ve been his godmother and half-sister if things were still alright between us, but as Damien would say, “We have to move forward in life. Time’s waiting for nobody.”
I smiled at him through the doors, telling myself we were going to be okay in the end. And for the first time in a while, I believed it.
Chapter 25 – Damien
The leather creaked under my shoulders as I leaned back in the chair, but the comfort did little to ease the pressure that had been riding in me for weeks now.
The glass of scotch on the desk barely had a dent in it. My hand hovered over the phone, thumb ghosting over the edge of the screen.
I was supposed to call Fedor. We had business to discuss: crates moving through Odessa, a port bribe in Palermo, the kind of deals that couldn’t afford delays. I glanced at the clock instead.
10:03 p.m.
I frowned.
Fedor was prompt and always on time. He usually picked up before the second ring. But lately…lately, there had been gaps. More days when I couldn’t reach him than the days he was available. Excuses about “emergencies” or “needing personal space to get his shit together.” He’d been taking leaves, not for days but weeks. That wasn’t like him. Fedor didn’t rest. Not unless I ordered him to. And I hadn’t.
I trusted him, so I tried not to jump to conclusions. Fedor had bled for me once. His loyalty had been unquestionable. But loyalty in our world wasn’t a lifetime contract. It was a currency: spent, lost, and sometimes faked.
I swore under my breath, fingers curling into a fist on the desk. I didn’t want to doubt him. But this wasn’t a world where I could afford to be naïve. If cracks were forming, I needed to see them before they broke the whole foundation. Before someone else did.
The lamp cast long shadows over the bookshelves and the faces in the paintings—men who once held power in theireyes and now stared blankly from the canvas, long forgotten. My father was one of them, and I refused to be among them.
I took the phone in my hand, but I didn’t dial before making a mental note to start watching him. Not out of paranoia but necessity. If Fedor was slipping, I needed to know why, and more importantly, who he might be slipping toward.
I was just about to hit the call button, but my hand hesitated when I heard her.
Soft footsteps approached from the hallways. They weren’t rushed or calculated, more like teasing. She was humming playfully, and I turned my head toward the sound, forgetting the phone in my hand and my plans to track Fedor.
Her voice crept under the door like smoke, winding around my thoughts and dragging them somewhere far more dangerous than business ever took me.
She almost never came to this wing unless I sent for her. Not before Leo was born or after. She was visiting today, though, and whether it was her intention or not, I felt the heat before I saw her.
There was that electric tension, pulling tight between us before the door even creaked open.
She leaned in, one hand on the frame, green eyes catching mine with a spark that made my pulse spike. Her mouth curved knowingly.Wickedly.
