Accidental Bratva Daddy (Bratva Blessings)

Chapter 9Natalia

9

Natalia

T he delicate aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries coaxes me from my slumber. I blink groggily, my hand instinctively reaching for Luka's warmth beside me. When my fingers meet only cool sheets, my eyes snap open, suddenly alert.

For a moment, panic grips my chest. Was last night a dream? Has Luka left me alone, just as he did that first night we spent together?

But no, the soreness in my muscles and the lingering scent of his cologne on the pillow are proof enough that it was real. I sit up slowly, clutching the silky sheets to my chest as I survey the empty room.

That's when I notice the gentle clink of cutlery coming from beyond the bedroom door. Curiosity piqued, I slip out of bed, wincing slightly at the pleasant ache between my thighs. I grab the nearest item of clothing, one of Luka's discarded dress shirts from the night before, and button it hastily, then slip it over my head.

The shirt hangs nearly to my knees, engulfing me in Luka's scent. Despite knowing better, I find the sensation oddly comforting. I pad barefoot to the door, cracking it open to peer into the suite's living area.

The sight that greets me is so unexpectedly domestic that for a moment, I forget to breathe.

Luka stands at the dining table, meticulously arranging an array of dishes that make my mouth water instantly. The smell of fresh coffee and warm breakfast greets my nose, cooked to perfection. I watch, transfixed, as he adjusts the placement of a vase filled with fresh-cut flowers, his brow furrowed in concentration.

This is a side of him I've never seen before, the dangerous mafia boss playing at being a doting husband. The juxtaposition is as jarring as it is intriguing. I never in my wildest dreams would’ve imagined this side of him.

"Are you going to stand there all day, or would you like to join me?" Luka's deep voice cuts through my reverie, amusement evident in his tone. “I can feel your eyes drilling through me.”

I feel heat rise to my cheeks, embarrassed at being caught staring. I step fully into the room, crossing my arms over my chest in a futile attempt to maintain some dignity.

"I didn't expect to find you playing housewife," I quip, arching an eyebrow at him.

Luka's lips quirk into that infuriatingly handsome smirk of his. "I'm a man of many talents, Mrs. Volkova. I thought you'd have realized that by now."

The sound of my new surname on his tongue sends an unexpected thrill through me. It feels like being owned by him, fully claimed, a feeling I shouldn’t relish so much. I push the feeling aside, focusing instead on the mouthwatering spread in front of me.

"You did all this?" I ask, gesturing to the table. “Poached eggs, fresh bacon… are those croissants?”

Luka shrugs, the movement causing the muscles in his shoulders to ripple beneath his fitted shirt. "I ordered room service. But I did arrange it myself."

"How thoughtful," I mutter, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.

"Don't sound so shocked," Luka chuckles. "I'm capable of being considerate when the occasion calls for it." He pulls out a chair, gesturing for me to sit. "Now, eat. We have matters to discuss."

I hesitate for a moment before taking the offered seat. As much as I hate to admit it, the gesture is oddly sweet. I watch as Luka pours me a cup of coffee, adding just the right amount of cream and sugar without having to ask.

"How did you know how I take my coffee?" I ask, narrowing my eyes suspiciously.

Luka's smirk widens. “I’ve made it my business to know everything about you, Natalia. You'd be surprised at the things I've learned. You enjoy talking to the press and posting on social media enough that I was able to glean quite a bit… and that was before I had my investigator look further.”

The casual admission sends a shiver down my spine. It’s a brutal reminder that beneath the veneer of domesticity, Luka is still a dangerous man.

We eat in companionable silence for a few minutes, the tension between us simmering just beneath the surface. I find myself sneaking glances at Luka over the rim of my coffee cup, admiring the way the morning light plays across his chiseled features.

"You need to call your mother and sister," Luka says abruptly, breaking the silence.

I nearly choke on my croissant. "What? Why?"

"To tell them about our marriage, of course," Luka replies, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "It's the only way to make our story believable."

"But—" I begin, only to be cut off by Luka's raised hand.

"I've already sent photos of the ceremony to the press," he continues, his tone leaving no room for argument. "A fashion journalist will be publishing them within the next few hours. It's best if your family hears the news from you first."

I feel the blood drain from my face. "You did what?" I hiss, my earlier appreciation for his thoughtfulness evaporating instantly.

Luka's expression remains impassive. "It's necessary, Natalia. We need to control the narrative before someone else jumps in. Now, call your family."

For a moment, I consider refusing. But the steely glint in Luka's eyes tells me it isn't a request. With a frustrated sigh, I reach for my phone.

My finger hovers over Alina's contact for a long moment before I finally press 'call.' The phone rings once, twice, before my sister's voice fills the line.

"Natalia?" Alina's tone is a mixture of relief and confusion. "Oh my God, where have you been? We've been worried sick!"

My heart clenches at the concern in my sister's voice. "I'm okay, Alina. I'm sorry I haven't called. Things have been... complicated."

"Complicated?" Alina echoes. "Natalia, we reported you as a missing person! We thought—we thought the mob had taken you, or worse."

Guilt washes over me in waves. I glance at Luka, who's watching me intently, his expression unreadable.

"I'm so sorry," I say, my voice thick with emotion. "I never meant to worry you. I just... something happened. Something big."

There's a pause on the other end of the line. "What do you mean, 'something big'?"

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "I got married."

The silence that follows is deafening. I can practically hear the gears turning in my sister's head.

"You... what?" Alina finally manages, her voice barely above a whisper. “I must be mishearing.”

"I got married," I repeat, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. "To Luka—the man I met at my after-party. He... he rescued me, Alina. And we just... we fell in love. It happened so fast, but it felt right. We decided to elope."

The lie tastes bitter, but I force myself to continue. I can feel Luka's eyes on me, silently urging me on.

"Natalia, this is insane," Alina says, her voice rising with each word. "Dad was just murdered, and you're off getting married to some man you barely know? What about your brand? You swore you wouldn't get married until Orlova Couture was a household name!"

I wince at the mention of our father. "I know, I know. But things are different with Luka. He's... he's unlike anyone I've ever met."

At that, Luka's lips curl into a self-satisfied smirk. I shoot him a glare, mouthing 'shut up' even though he hasn't said a word.

"I don't understand," Alina says, her voice small and confused. "This isn't like you, Natalia. Are you sure you're okay? Are you safe?"

The concern in my sister's voice makes my eyes prick with tears. "I'm fine, Alina. I promise. I know it's a lot to take in, but I'm happy. Really."

There's a long pause, filled only by the sound of Alina's shaky breathing. "Mom needs to hear this," she says finally. "Can you hold on while I get her?"

"Of course," I say, my stomach churning with anxiety. “I wanted to talk to her anyway.”

As I wait for my mother to come to the phone, I look to Luka. His expression has softened slightly, a hint of concern creasing his brow. Without a word, he reaches across the table, taking my free hand in his. The gesture is unexpectedly comforting.

"Natalia?" My mother's voice, usually so composed, trembles with emotion. "My darling, is it really you?"

"Yes, Mama," I say, fighting back tears. "It's me. I'm okay."

"Where have you been? We've been so worried. After your father—" Her voice breaks, unable to finish the sentence.

"I know, Mama. I'm so sorry." I squeeze Luka's hand, drawing strength from his touch. "I have something to tell you. Something important."

As I repeat the story of my whirlwind romance and impromptu marriage, I can practically feel my mother's shock radiating through the phone. When I finish, the silence stretches on for what feels like an eternity.

"I don't know what to say," she finally speaks, her voice heavy with a mixture of relief and disappointment. "This is... unexpected, to say the least."

"I know it's a lot to process," I say softly. "But I hope you can be happy for me, Mama. Luka... he's good to me. He makes me feel safe."

Another long pause follows. "If this is truly what you want, then of course I'm happy for you," my mother says at last. "But please, Natalia, be careful. There's so much we don't know about this man."

"I will, Mama. I promise."

After a few more minutes of tense conversation, I finally end the call. I set my phone down on the table, my hand shaking slightly.

"Well," Luka says, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of my hand, "that went better than expected."

I let out a humorless laugh. "If by 'better' you mean they didn't immediately disown me, then sure."

Luka's expression turns serious. "They'll come around, Natalia. Give them time. Besides, everyone is safer this way. They might not know it, but your decision is keeping them out of the hand of some very bad people."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The reality of our situation is beginning to sink in, the weight of it pressing down on my chest. He’s manipulating me in such a cruel way, but I can’t deny that this is the only thing keeping my family safe. He’s right, even though it hurts.

"Listen," Luka says, his voice gentler than I've ever heard it, "we have the suite for the rest of the week. Why don't we stay a few more days? Give you some time to process everything before we face the world as husband and wife.”

I look up at him, surprised by the offer. Part of me wants to refuse, to assert some semblance of control over my life. But the thought of facing my family, the press, the endless questions and judgment... it's overwhelming.

"Okay," I say finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "A few more days."

Luka nods, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Good. Now, eat your breakfast before it gets cold. We have a honeymoon to enjoy, after all."

As I pick up my fork, I can't help but wonder what exactly I've gotten myself into.