Page 28 of Bratva Beast

“And I’ll marry Isabella.”

My father growls. “I will not have an illegitimate heir.”

Rolling my eyes, I look down at the old man. “I’m marrying her, but even if I didn’t, she’s mine and so is the child.”

He nods. “Grandson.”

“Well, if not this time, then the next.”

“Good. You’re going to the fundraiser this weekend. I don’t want to go, and you need to take on your role.”

“Yebat! I am Sovietnik. I’m running everything while you’re gallivanting around the world.”

“Pfft. It’s my right as the Pakhan to do whatever I want.”

“It is, Papa. I’ll do the fundraiser.”

“You’ll get the girl a makeover and a stylist and take her, too.”

Isabella’s not a fucking doll. “She’ll have her medical degree soon, and she’ll never agree to being an empty face. She’s like my mother.”

“I realize, but she still has a role to play. Dress her up and make her look like the wife of the future Pakhan.” He grabs my shirt. “And fucking marry her.” He turns and walks back out the door as I sigh.

Prick. How do I convince her to marry me? The beast inside me snarls. No convincing. Take her to a judge and make it happen. Judge Edwards owes me. My head is spinning with different scenarios. Just ask her.

I walk into the penthouse. It’s Sunday and the fourth one in a row where Mrs. Belova isn’t here. Isabella mentioned Mrs. Belova should be with her family on Sundays. It’s not a hardship. I’ve fucked Isabella all over the condo while she’s been gone. I stop in the foyer. Isabella is belting out a pop song. I’ve heard it, and she’s doing the song like she was made for it. I creep down the hall and peer around the kitchen. She’s dressed in a t-shirt with no bottoms with a spatula in her hand. She flips the sandwich in the pan. I ease up to the counter and sit quietly. Let’s see how pissed she is when she turns around and sees me. Her hips sway to the music. She really is this young. My kid is so lucky to have her and so am I. She turns with the spatula up in the air, rotating to the beat of the song. Her eyes ping open as I smirk.

“Fuck!” She bobbles the spatula but doesn’t drop it.

“Tsk, tsk. You can’t be swearing. You’re going to be a mother.”

She stops moving, her brow furrows, and her mouth drops open. “You scared me.”

“I think startled is a better description.”

She shakes the spatula. “Whatever. We need to put a bell on you.”

“Not likely.” I flick my head to the pan. “Flip.”

She spins around. “Shit.” She slides the spatula under the sandwich and drops it on the empty plate. “You’re lucky I didn’t burn this.”

“Uh, huh. What do I have to do to get one of those?”

She picks up the plate and sets it between us on the counter. “What ya got?”

“A million dollars.”

Her brow peaks as her face contorts. “For a sandwich? How about a kiss?”

“I can give you the money and a kiss, or whatever else you want. Just because you want it, you don’t even have to give me the damn sandwich.”

She holds out the sandwich next to my mouth. “We can share.”

I take a bite. “That’s good.”

“Bacon Tomato Grilled Cheese.”

“That’s my new favorite sandwich.”

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