Page 37 of Forced & Knocked-Up Bratva Bride

It was dark in the kitchen, with the moon’s ethereal glow streaming in through the windows. I walked inside, unaware of the presence in the room with me. My fingers rubbed my tired eyes as I reached for the wall switch with my free hand. The moment I turned it on, and the lights illuminated the space, I yelped in shock, my body stiffening at the sight of the man sitting on the stool at the kitchen island.

He'd been here before me, sitting comfortably in the dark like the devil that he was.

“You scared me,” I confessed, a hand on my chest, my heart pounding like a drum.

“Fear is optional, little Romano,” he said, his cold blue eyes staring at me. “You chose to be afraid, and so your fear has nothing to do with me.”

I paused, watching him closely, attempting to study the blank expression on his face. “Do you do this often? Sit alone in the dark?” I dared ask, dared to indulge him to fill the awkward silence.

“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing,” he replied, elbows on the countertop, his voice soft and smooth.

“Is it not?” I enquired, trying to hold this conversation, however unexpected it was.

He looked at me for a little while, his cold blue eyes narrowing by a fraction. “To people like you, maybe. But not to us…. Not to those who live in the dark and have become one with it.”

I swallowed hard, my dry throat wobbling as I stepped closer, standing on the other side of the counter between us.

“What’re you doing up so late anyway?” he asked, expression still almost unreadable.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I replied, “So, I, uh…I decided to come get a glass of water.” My eyes darted toward the fridge.

He hesitated for a second before rising to his feet, and with a fluid motion, he glided over to the refrigerator. Nik grabbed the door handle, opened it, and withdrew a bottle of water. He reached for the cabinet and picked out a glass, then walked over to the countertop. I watched him screw open the bottle of water and pour a reasonable amount into the glass.

“Here. Drink.” Nik handed me the glass.

Shocked by this unusual act of kindness, I paused for a while before accepting it. “Thank you,” I muttered under my breath.

He watched me gulp the water down, and I didn’t lower the glass until I’d swallowed every single drop.

For a few long minutes, it was awkwardly silent between us—the same silence I’d been dreading this whole time. At this point, I was left with two choices: to leave now or stay back and start another conversation with him. Even if I did leave, I’d only return to the boredom that awaited me in my room, my cell. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do, anyway. Plus, his energy was receptive tonight. And although his expression was still blank, I could see a slight crack in the high walls he’d built around himself.

This was my chance to speak—my opportunity to ask the question that had lingered on the fringes of my mind since the last time we were intimate.

“Are you just gonna keep standing there, or are you going to spill what's on your mind?” he asked, looking right at me.

His question—his confrontation—caught me entirely off guard, and for a moment there, my brain went blank. “Huh?” was the only thing that came out of my mouth.

A glimpse of amusement flashed across his face as he turned to face me. “There’s something you wanna ask me…. You’re just not sure how to do so yet,” he said softly, his voice dripping with conviction.

What are you, a psychic?I thought to myself, raising my chin to hold his gaze.

“I’m not a psychic. Your anxiety is just all over the place,” he said, as though he’d read my mind.

My breath hitched, my eyes widening ever so slightly.

Did he just hear my thoughts? Oh, my God!

Nik chuckled, picking up an apple from the fruit basket on the countertop. I blinked a few times, watching him chew, his jaw moving gracefully. There was no point holding back; he already knew that I had something to say, so why not spill the beans?

I heaved a sigh, my heart starting to race in my chest as I looked at him, preparing myself to speak. His expression had softened a bit, a hint of curiosity dancing in his eyes. He wanted to hear what I had to say, and his interest was an invitation to speak.

“How long are we going to keep ignoring the elephant in the room?” I asked, meeting his gaze.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that,” he said, munching quietly on his apple.

“I’m talking about you sleeping with me when you have a fiancée.” The words tumbled out of my mouth before my brain could analyze them.

The apple stopped halfway to his mouth, and slowly, he drew closer, eyes never leaving mine. “Last I checked, you were the one who said you’d do anything to raise our son.”

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