Page 58 of Pregnant By the Russian Pakhan

She felt moisture pool between her thighs as he kissed her and she clung to him, wishing they were somewhere private.

As his lips left her, she felt a wrenching sense of loss. Forcing herself to exert some control, she turned and began to walk towards their car.

As he walked behind her, she didn’t have to turn around to know he was checking out her ass and legs. His gaze was so intense it was almost scorching; she could almost feel it like a physical caress.

Chapter 35 - Mikhail

Mikhail knew he cut a good figure in his tuxedo, but he wasn’t so impressed with his appearance. Rather he was on tenterhooks waiting to see what Mira looked like. These days she had that mysterious glow of pregnancy about her that made her positively delectable and irresistible. He seemed to be in a perpetual state of arousal around her these days, he thought.

It had been three weeks since her father’s death and she had been adjusting nicely, he was pleased to see. She had shed a few tears for the bastard, which was more than he deserved. But luckily, she had pulled herself together faster than anyone had expected. Tonight was one dinner event he knew most of his cronies would not want to miss. Already, the ballroom was filled to capacity and guests were still arriving in droves, with some coming uninvited. He hadn’t tried to bounce anyone, though, because he really couldn’t blame them. It wasn’t every day the two warring mafia factions in Chicago announced a co-hosting of the same event. Mira had handed over her father’s mafia to him and so the event was being co-hosted.

Suddenly Mikhail felt that same imperceptible shift in the atmosphere that unfailingly warned him whenever Mira walked into a room. Turning his head toward the staircase, he looked at her and promptly lost every train of thought.

Mira was dressed in the black gown he’d gotten her which was beaded with diamond studs on the bodice. Her only jewelry was a diamond pin in both ears and a small diamond bracelet on one wrist. Her long red tresses had been tamed into what should have been a severe bun atop her head, but somehow ended up looking like an intricate knot. The hairstyle emphasized her large eyes and sultry pout, and right there and then he knew he would give anything in the world to have her lying beneath him in a bed right now.

Mira had this effortless way of getting him all hot and bothered, he concluded as he watched her descend the staircase regally.

Her makeup was flawless and understated, emphasizing the curve of her high cheekbones and her soft skin. Her perfume wafted down to him; this time it was something indefinable but definitely French and delicious. He could sense Madame Pruitt’s handiwork. He would have to remember to ask Madame Pruitt to ply Mira with more of whatever perfume she was wearing; it should be her new signature scent. It suited her so well.

When she was near, Mira gave him her hand and he took it reverently, fighting the urge to bow over it like a common serf greeting a royal queen. With smiling grace, she tucked her hand into his and proceeded to begin to charm their guests.

Mikhail could feel himself swelling with pride as he looked at Mira. She was a natural and she fit in perfectly into his world. She was a lady through and through, yet when she conversed with some of the most hardened men on earth, she gave no inclination that she knew their true profession. They, in turn, behaved like perfect altar boys in her presence. It was almost comical how they were all falling over themselves to be in her good graces.

Mira had that effect on people. Everyone wanted to be better than they were because of her, even him, Mikhail conceded. Mira made him want to be a better man than he was.

“You’re looking especially beautiful tonight, Mrs. Nikolai,” he murmured, his tone low and seductive.

She looked up at him with a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. He lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

She shrugged. “It just feels strange to hear myself addressed as Mrs. Nikolai. That’s your mother’s name, Mikhail. Not mine.”

He fell silent. Remembering his mother never failed to leave a yawning hole aching in his chest. She’d been the one steadying influence in his life and he had lost her all those years ago. A scant five years later, his father had been killed and he had been forced to become Pakhan.

Knowing what he knew now about what his father had done to Dostoevsky, he didn’t begrudge the other man the revenge he had sought. But when he thought about his mother…

He shrugged. “She died when I was just a kid. I was twelve then, and there’s nothing else to it.

Mira pulled him to herself and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m sorry you lost your mother. But you have me now and soon, you’ll have our baby.”

He looked at Mira. He felt his heart squeeze with gratitude at this beautiful, incredibly sweet woman and how she was always ready to take on the entire world for him.

Even though her eyes were sparkling with joy for him, he could also see the hidden traces of sadness she thought no one saw behind the bright smiles. He knew she had been waiting eagerly to hear him say he loved her and he hadn’t said the words yet.

He couldn’t wait to say the words back to her, but the timing just hadn’t been right. He wanted a time when they weren’t entangled in passion, so she would know it was him speaking and not lust or emotions. He wanted to make it incredibly romantic when he announced his feelings; probably with some grand gesture. When he finally told her he loved her, he didn’t want there to be any doubt whatsoever in her mind that he meant every word.

“Let’s go greet some more of our guests, Mira,” he said huskily.

As they turned away, he caught sight of a tall dark head who looked remarkably like Alena, but he knew there was no way she would slip into his villa without his men catching it.

He must have been seeing things, he thought, not wanting Mira to worry. His gaze dipped to her already bulging stomach and he sighed. He couldn’t wait for their baby to be born; he was eager to meet the little tyke.

His gaze lit on Mira’s red head and he thought to himself for the umpteenth time that he hoped it was a little girl with Mira’s red hair and her pretty features.

Chapter 36 - Mira

“That was a very successful party, wasn’t it, Sarah?” Mira laughed as she let herself into her room and headed straight for her dressing table. She was suddenly feeling very hot and a bit nauseous, no thanks to the many dances Mikhail had subjected her to.

She looked around the room, unable to spot Sarah’s familiar form anywhere. “Sarah?” she called and was greeted with silence.

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