Page 77 of Pregnant Prisoner By the Bratva
I shut my eyes, listening to the steady beat of his heart—the heart that belonged to me.
Epilogue – Yulian
One Year Later
The landscape outside was covered in a thick blanket of snow, the whistling wind brushing against the windows. The safehouse in Russia was heavily guarded; the men, as ready and willing as I was, were prepared to lay down their lives for this family if it ever came to it.
I’d brought my wife and daughter to the land of my heritage, where I was born and raised. The city of Chicago was starting to get too loud, and I figured we needed some time away from the house. Just the three of us.
Ester straddled my lap, the quiet buzz of the tattoo machine punctuating the silence of the room. The smell of ink and disinfectant lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of her perfume.
I sat back in my chair, shirtless, watching her steady fingers ink a delicate flame on one side of my chest. Maria’s name curled through the center like a vow etched in fire. Ester drilled the needle a little too deep, forcing a faint wince from my lips.
She paused, head cocked to the side with a mocking smirk on her face. “You flinched,” she said softly, her fresh breath warm against my skin.
“No, I didn’t,” I denied the allegation, my expression stern enough to back my claim.
“You liar.” She chuckled, her stormy gray eyes crinkling at the corners.
Even after all this time, her smile still stirred up a flutter in my chest. My feelings for her never weakened for a moment; instead, they blossomed with each passing day. Every time shelaughed or smiled or chuckled, it reminded me that I’d made the right decision the day I decided to wife her up.
A suspicious look settled on her face as her chuckle gradually trailed off, replaced by something a bit more affectionate. She lowered the needle and held my gaze, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “What?” she asked, voice sweet like honey.
“Nothing,” I replied, reaching to push some stray strands to the back of her ear. “Just taking some time to appreciate what a wonderful woman you are.”
Her face lit with a radiant smile, cheeks flushing as her eyes dropped to my chest. “Are you trying to make me blush?” she whispered, stealing a glance at me.
I tilted my head to the side. “Is it working?”
She nodded, still avoiding my gaze.
My hand traveled to the back of her neck, and with one gentle tug, I pulled her closer, my lips locking with hers. She melted into my arms, kissing me back with the same energy, nice and easy.
When she broke it, she held my gaze, beaming, her thumb grazing my cheek.
“What do you say we go someplace warmer next week—a tropical island, maybe—just the three of us?” I asked, staring into her soul.
A bright smile illuminated her features, her forehead resting on mine. “I’d love that.” She claimed my lips again.
This time, the kiss was a lot more intense, and my erection was already threatening to burst through my pants. Breathless, devouring each other’s mouths, my hands reaching to squeeze her breasts.
Things were really starting to get heated up when we were interrupted by the approaching footsteps padding down the hallway. Small. Tiny.
“Mama,” Maria called, her cute little voice echoing off the walls.
We turned in her direction, and there she was: our little warrior angel standing in the doorway. Her ash-blond hair was slightly tousled, her gray eyes shifting across her mother and me.
Ester got off my lap, clearing her throat. “Hey, honey, I didn’t know you were awake,” she said, glancing back at me.
I shrugged my shoulders, as displeased by the interruption asshewas. But that was one of the downsides to raising a toddler; those attention-seekers had no off days. They didn’t care about how horny you were or how badly you needed some time alone. No. They’d barge in at any time like they owned you and the entire household.
And considering that you’d be left with no choice but to attend to them, I’d say they pretty much owned everything and everyone in the family.
No one told me that toddlers were tiny little devils designed to steal your time and sleep. But regardless, they were adorable and cute—especially my little Maria.
Our daughter was a spitting image of her mother; it was like looking at a mini version of my wife. Same nose, same beautiful pair of stormy gray eyes. Same smile. The only physical trait I shared with her was the ash-blond hair.
Maria waddled with her stuffed tiger and climbed up into my lap like it was her throne. With her thumb in her mouth, she rested her head against my chest. Relaxed. Comfortable and in charge.
