Page 74 of The Russian Pakhan's Forced Bride
But with everything compounding…all the violence, the secrets, and the unknowns, I have no idea what to do.
I only know that the urge to run from it all is getting stronger and stronger.
Chapter 25 - Roman
Victoria’s silence carries more weight than she realizes…it’s full of deep, raw, and impossible-to-ignore emotions.
She’s been pulling away out of fear after she was caught in the shoot-out and given a front-row seat to exactly how my life is. She hasn’t looked at me the same since learning about Maxim being her brother.
Of course, I can’t blame her.
I know what my business is like and how it can be all-consuming. Still, I want her, and I want what we have to get better.
For the first time, I want more than just power and influence. I want the peace that comes with a stable home life. I want the house, the wife, the children…I want to provide the safety I didn’t have growing up.
It’s ironic wanting to raise a family in the world I’m wrapped up in, but it’s how I can provide for them. It’s how I can protect them.
More than anything, I want to make Victoria happy, even if that goes against every one of my previous priorities.
I just need her to see that I’m more than a Pakhan. I’m her husband, and I intend to be a deserving one. First, I need her to be on the same page as me, and to do that, I need to find a way to ease her worries.
Looking at it from a different perspective, I plan differently. For her, I have to soften the angles and muster all of my gumption outside of being a brutal leader.
After putting out the word for my plans, Elena picks the sunlit patio restaurant on the edge of the city. It’s partiallyhidden with hedges and climbing ivy, offering us some privacy and a more intimate space. On the other side, there are walking paths with views of the surrounding area.
The walk into the restaurant is vaguely tense at first, with Victoria seemingly unsure if she should lean into my touch. It’s enough to let me know she’s still doubting things, but I don’t let it get to me.
Eventually, we’re all gathered around the table with drinks and entrees spread across the tabletop, taking in the warm weather. Victoria sits by my side, and I can’t help but feel that on-and-off cold from her.
She’s in a sundress that makes her look even more radiant than usual, and her makeup is light but accentuates her features in a way I’m fond of. Overall, she looks beautiful, even if she seems unsure of everything.
My hand aches to reach for hers, but I keep it at my side, not wanting to overwhelm her.
“I still can’t believe it,” Mikhail says while holding his drink. “Big brother Roman is starting a family of his own.”
The reminder sends a ripple of excitement and anticipation through me once again, and I can’t help the faint pull of my lips. “Surely it isn’t that hard to believe.”
“It makes sense,” Sergey adds, grabbing another breadstick before aimlessly waving it around himself for emphasis. “But I figured you spent enough time looking after us that you’d be tired of the chaos.”
I huff my amusement at the mention of it. “Maybe I’m sure the whole thing will be less of a pain in my ass when it’s my child…not my siblings.”
They chuckle at that, and Elena hums.
“Given how you changed more diapers than either of our parents, I’d say you’re more than capable of handling a baby of your own.”
“Maybe you still remember some of those bedtime stories you used to read to the younger ones,” Mikhail brings up, lifting a mischievous brow at me. “How are your voices? Hopefully, you aren’t too rusty.”
Rolling my eyes at that, I can’t ignore the lingering fondness in my chest. “I’m sure I still have some voices in the chamber, but I guess that depends on how well I can swallow my pride again.”
As the others laugh, Victoria is faintly amused, but it’s soft and somewhat uncertain. Her hand drifts to her stomach, and something about it causes that protective, proud feeling to rise in me.
“I’ve always wanted a family of my own,” I admit without thinking, not intending to be quite so raw over dinner.
“What, are we not enough?” Sergey asks, his tone edged with good humor.
“That’s not the same, and you know it,” I return, waving him off while he continues to grin. “Raising you and raising our child is different.”
“Just make sure the little one knows who their favorite uncle is from the start,” Mikhail hums, well aware of the shit-storm he’s stirring up.
