Page 33 of Pregnant By the Russian Pakhan

The guy pulled the trigger. The bullet grazed Mikhail’s arm before firing into the wine cabinet at his back and sending glass shattering in a million directions.

Mikhail looked from the profusely bleeding wound to the man and muttered, “Ouch.”

Then he crossed the room and began to pound into the man’s face with his fist. He had barely punched him once, twice, three times, and after the fourth time, the gun clattered uselessly to the ground and the man sagged in his arms, completely unconscious.

Mikhail let him crumple to the floor and barked at his men to take him away.

Mira rushed across the room to him, her face a ravaged mask of worry and fear. “Oh my god. Are you all right?”

Her concern pleased him, but he was careful not to show it overly much as he said gruffly, “This was just a little scratch, Mira. I’m fine.”

Mira grabbed at him and made to hold him against her body. Without warning, he felt a slight wave of dizziness and stumbled a bit. She screamed, causing his men to rush to him.

“Help me get him home,” she barked with so much authority that despite his severe blood loss, Mikhail beamed with pride.

Vlad and two of the men draped his arms across their shoulders as they helped him to the vehicle. Mira insisted on getting in beside him and letting him lean his head against her shoulder all the way home.

Mikhail shut his eyes, feeling ridiculously safe and happy.

They were home in no time and he was being jostled and pushed to get out of the car and into their home. Once, he gave a grunt of pain and Mira immediately rebuked the men holding him, ordering them to step back. Her hands encircled him gently as she helped him into their house. Then the doctor, who was already waiting to see him, went to work cleaning and dressing the wound.

Mikhail drifted in and out of consciousness as the doctor worked, but when the man was finally done, he drifted gratefully off to sleep.

It had to have been many hours later in the night when the sound of soft weeping woke him and he popped open one eye, peering out to see what was happening without being overt. Mira was weeping softly by his bedside while she held his hand.

“I don’t know what I would have done if anything had happened to you,” she sobbed. “Thank you for not dying, Mikhail. Thank you for not dying.”

He let the happy knowledge wash over him and settle down into the pit of his stomach—somehow, some way, Mira had come to actually begin to care for him.

He didn’t know why the knowledge pleased him so much, but he planned to examine it more carefully when he was alone and recovered from his injuries.

“I…I need you, Mikhail. I need your smile, your laughter, and even your anger,” Mira was sobbing. “But please don’t leave me alone again.”

Alone? When have I ever left her alone? he wondered as the darkness began to claim him once more. Didn’t she know he hadn’t been able to leave her alone since the first day he’d clapped eyes on her?

He ought to tell her…

Chapter 21 - Mira

Mira was terrified. She replayed the voice note Sarah had sent her and felt her insides quiver with fear and alarm as she heard the thread of fear in Sarah’s voice. The voice note said Oleg Dostoevsky suspected Sarah of helping Mira escape her wedding and had been relentless in watching her and getting people to watch her ever since.

Sarah was also being treated like dirt by all the servants and everyone else in the villa, and she was increasingly scared of being attacked or killed.

Mira needed to save Sarah, but there was no way she could save Sarah without going back home herself. And if she went home, her father would take her captive. She remembered the anger on his face when he accused her of being a slut, and she knew he wouldn’t let her escape if he was able to get his hands on her.

Only Mikhail would be able to help her, she thought, running to his office in the villa without thinking. She’d been there only a handful of times since their marriage.

It was a few doors down from the library, but because it was also where he conducted his mafia business, it was generally off-limits to her. He hadn’t said so in so many words, but it was understood.

She walked in on him and Williams studying several pictures of different yachts, private jets, and mansions. She didn’t spare a thought for them. Mikhail was a wealthy man, which meant people would often try to sell him properties.

He looked up in surprise when she barged in, but she noticed his expression lit up when he saw her. He dropped all the documents he was holding at once and crossed the room to her. “What’s going on, Mira?”

Mira rushed to his side. “I need your help, Mikhail. Listen to this. Sarah’s in trouble, we have to help her.”

“Who the hell’s Sarah?” he demanded.

“She’s the one who encouraged me to come and meet with you in order to escape Edgar,” she announced.

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