Page 43 of Forced & Knocked-Up Bratva Bride

Her voice dropped to a low whisper when she said, “He asked me, ‘Olga, do you think this dress will look great on her? I don’t want anything ruining her beauty.’”

I chuckled, my eyes crinkling at the corners. “He said that?”

“He did.” She nodded and slowly extended a hand to my face, her palm resting on my cheek. “Miss Alessia, I know it doesn’t look like it right now, but believe me when I tell you, everything will fix itself in due time.” Her voice was slow and deliberate, each word carefully placed, like she was trying to anchor me with them.

“Sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it, Olga,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, weighed down by the doubt creeping back into my heart.

“I understand.” Her lips curved into a smile, her voice laced with conviction. “But someday, you will look back at all of this and laugh. I promise you that.”

“You sound so confident,” I said, wishing I were half as optimistic as she was.

“I am,” came her reply. “Soon, you will understand why.” Her thumb brushed against my skin. She inhaled deeply and smiled. “You smell nice.”

“Thank you, Olga,” I whispered, beaming at her. “For everything.” My fingers gently squeezed against hers.

Olga had been like a mother to me since the first time we had a conversation in the kitchen the other day. She was one of the few reasons why I hadn’t lost my mind yet. The woman’s kind heart and jovial nature were a stark contrast to the darkness that surrounded this place. I still hadn’t figured out what she was doing here, and from what she said a while ago, she’d been working for the Tarasovs since Nik was a kid.

I had a lot to ask her, but now wasn’t the time. I’d get that opportunity later on, but for now, I had a mystery place to be with the father of my unborn son.

“Come,” Olga said, “it’s best not to keep him waiting.”

I heaved a sigh and stole one last look at my reflection before following her downstairs. As I descended the stairs, I gripped the rail tightly, careful not to trip on the hem of my dress. Under the soft glow of the chandelier, each step felt exaggerated in the silence. I could see him in the living room, his back against me, and the closer I drew, the more I forgot to breathe.

Adjusting my posture, I lifted my chin just a bit, pretending as though my heart wasn’t threatening to jump out of my chest. Resplendent in a black suit, Nik turned around to face me, his eyes squinting for a fleeting moment. Although his expression was blank—unreadable—his gaze swept across my figure as if drinking in the sight he beheld.

I halted before him, pursing my lips while bracing myself for his reaction—whatever that might be. He watched me in silence, my heart racing like a friggin’ galloping horse. The air was thick with the perfect blend of his cologne and my feminine perfume. This whole time, my eyes were on the floor, my cheeks flushing for no reason.

“Come,” he said softly. “We’re running late.”

I raised my head and saw him standing there, gesturing toward the door.

“The car’s waiting outside,” he added, meeting my eyes for the first time today.

My heart sank into my stomach, and a flutter rose in my chest as I discreetly swallowed. His gaze stirred up a familiar emotion inside me, the same one I was yet to name. We stared deeply into each other’s eyes, but neither said a single word, despite the tension brewing between us. His eyes, thosecharming blue eyes, slightly crinkled at the corners, his dark hair styled to perfection and simmering in the soft light.

The man was gorgeous, looking nothing like the brute that he was. His imposing height towered over me, his muscles bulging from underneath his blazer while exuding an air of sophistication and confidence. I was glued to his face, handsome and attractive, taking in even the slightest of details, including the gentle curve of his inviting lips.

The moment I got a grip of myself, I blinked a few times and broke eye contact. Quietly, I headed toward the door, and he followed up behind me like a bodyguard.

Once in the car, he turned the ignition, and the sleek SUV’s engine roared to life. He stole a quick glance at the front passenger seat, and I responded with a faint smile, pushing a loose strand behind my ear.

As the vehicle traveled down the serpentine driveway, I turned to him and asked, as politely as I could, “Where are we going?”

He looked at me and replied, his expression still blank, “The annual Tarasov family gathering.”

My brows arched in shock, my breath hitching in my throat. He couldn’t possibly be serious. Could he? I fixed my gaze on him while he drove, eyes across the windshield. Why would he lie about where we were going? It wasn’t like he was afraid of me or anything. Nik wasn’t the type to kid around, hence I’d have thought this was some sort of elaborate joke.

It wasn’t.

He was goddamn serious.

The annual Tarasov family gathering? For real?

Instantly, my heart began to race in my chest, my mind cooking up scenarios that may or may not happen. What happened to his precious fiancée? Why not take her instead, considering that his family hated mine and vice versa?

Shit. This was not good at all.

I’d be the odd one out, the enemy. And although my plan was to try as much as possible to stay hidden, that was virtually impossible now. I’d be a Romano amongst a lot of Tarasovs. There was no way I could be invisible, not with this baby bump that would for sure draw unwanted attention.

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