Page 68 of Pregnant Prisoner By the Bratva
Ayla recognized Ester immediately, and that was when it clicked in my head: Bring Ayla over, reunite the two friends, and make my wife happy.
I was right. Shewashappy.
Watching her laugh like that melted something in me—made my heart race and softened the look on my face. The sound of her giggles sent my pulse racing, easing the tension in my chest.
She caught me staring but didn’t look away. Instead, she held my gaze a little longer, her smile hitting me like a wave as a chill sprinted down my spine—in the best way.
***
Later on, after the event was over and all the guests had left, I helped my wife up the stairs and back to our room.
“So, did you have a good time?” I asked, my hand resting on her lower back.
She looked at me, her eyes dreamy and filled with affection. “You’re gonna have to tell me how you managed to pull that off—the thing with Ayla.”
I scoffed, my pace as slow as hers. One step at a time. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”
That was meant to come out as a joke, and it did. She laughed, shooting a glance my way. “Oh, he’s got jokes,” she teased, sarcasm lacing her tone.
I grabbed the door handle, and the moment I pushed the door open, a soft gasp left her lips. Her eyes widened in surprise, her palm flying to her mouth as she drank in the transformation of our bedroom.
“Oh. My. God,” The words jumped out of her, one at a time, her eyes roaming the room. “This is beautiful.”
“You like it?” I asked, leading her inside, the door shutting behind us.
“Are you kidding?” Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “I love it.” She turned around to face me, beaming.
The room was different—dimly lit, with the overhead lights replaced by the warm flicker of dozens of candles scattered across the room. Everything was bathed in the soft amber oftheir golden glow, gentle shadows dancing lazily across the walls.
A faint hum of jazz drifted through the air, slow and melodic, adding a raw intimacy to the ambience. The scent of sandalwood and something floral wrapped the room like a warm embrace.
The moonlight streamed in through the half-drawn velvet curtains, revealing the inky blackness of the outside sky. Beyond the glass, a few twinkling stars peeked through as if bearing witness to this rare moment.
A tray with two empty crystal glasses and an unopened bottle of sparkling cider—unalcoholic, of course—sat on a side table, untouched, waiting. The bed was transformed with a thick, inviting duvet and crisp white sheets. Flames from the fireplace burned low and steadily, casting a warm glow that travelled to every corner of the room.
“Wow,” she said softly, eyebrows rising in astonishment. “I didn’t take you for the romantic type. Guess I was wrong.”
“I’m not romantic,” I replied, trying to sound as modest as I could. “I’m just a man trying to make his wife happy.”
She extended her hand to my face, her palm resting on my cheek. “You’ve outdone yourself tonight, Ian,” she said, her tone mild and gentle.
“Ian?” My lips curled into a self-satisfied grin. “That’s a first.”
Ester mirrored my smile, brushing her thumb against my skin. “I see you, Ian. I see what you’re doing—the efforts you’re putting into making this work.” She paused, her expression soft and intimate. “I see the changes. And I love the man that you’ve become.”
Her words struck a chord, warming my heart.
“I know I haven’t said this enough, but, uh…thank you.” The sincerity in her tone couldn’t be more glaring, her eyes shining with mirth and sheer delight.
“Seeing you happy, safe, and fulfilled is my top priority, Ester. And as long as I breathe, I’ll always protect you.” My eyes dropped to her growing belly. “Both of you.”
She was silent for a moment, her eyes boring into mine. “Please, tell me this isn’t a dream. Tell me I’m not about to wake up any minute from now.”
I held her close, fingers gently brushing some hair behind her ear. “You’re not dreaming,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “This is real.” My hand rested on her growing belly, feeling the baby move beneath my palm.
“Who are you, and what have you done with Yulian Tarasov?” she teased, her eyes still locked on mine.
I chuckled. “I’m still me. Just a better version for you.”
