Page 34 of A Nanny For The Bratva Boss
“I… yeah. I’m fine.”
He crosses the room in two strides. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, I just…”
His gaze drops to my hand.To the test I’m holding. And he goes very still.
“Is that…”
I nod, shocked silent. Misha takes the test from me, stares at it, then looks back at me.
“You’re pregnant.”
“Yeah.”
Silence. Shit, I can’t read his expression. He’s all tight jaw and burning eyes, and with my crazy Russian that could mean anything. I can’t tell if he’s happy, freaking out or something else altogether… Then he drops to his knees. Right there on the bathroom floor. He wraps his arms around my body, and presses his face to my stomach.
“Mikhail?” I ask softly, running a hand over his thick, soft hair.
“Mine,” he growls against my skin. “Both of you. Mine.”
Oh God. I’m gonna cry.
“We’re getting married.”
“Yes, baby. Just a couple more months. I won’t even be showing yet.” I reassure him, still gently caressing his head.
But Misha shakes his head, stands, cupping my face and boring into my eyes, his, shining with unshed tears. Oh. My. God.
“Today, Milaya. We’re getting married now.”
“What?! Misha, my mom, Ana, Katya… Sofia! Everything we already planned!”
“Today,” he repeats firmly, huge hands bracketing my face.
“Baby, we can’t just…”
He places a hard, closed-mouth kiss on my lips and takes my hand.
“We’re a family. Need to make it official.”
* * *
An hour later, we’re in the car. I’m still in shock, and Mikhail’s driving like a man on a mission. Eyes fixed straight ahead, jaw tight, knuckles white on the steering wheel.
“Honey, this is insane.”
“You’re pregnant with our baby, and we don’t share a last name.That’sinsane.”
“We only have a few months to wait…” A muscle jumps in his cheek. “What about our families? Everything you already spent on the wedding?”
“Everythingwespent.” Right, always reminding me that what’s his is mine. “We’ll still do all that shit you wanted. But give me this. Please.”
It’s the ‘please’ that gets me. And, not gonna lie, I freaking love his badass intensity, his need to claim me in every possible way…
When we pull into the courthouse parking lot, Misha’s out of the car and at my door before I can even unbuckle. He helps me out, threading his fingers through mine as we walk toward the building.
“You sure about this?” I ask.
