Accidental Bratva Daddy (Bratva Blessings)

Chapter 11Natalia

11

Natalia

T he elevator dings softly as I step onto my floor, the familiar scent of lavender air freshener greeting me. Two months. It's been two months since I last saw Luka, since our whirlwind "honeymoon" ended, and reality came crashing back in.

I thought I’d see him more often, but it seems like he’s content just disappearing and not talking to me. He’s barely even sent a text since we parted ways after the honeymoon. Too wrapped up in business to care about his pretend wife.

So much for selling this marriage. Even I’m starting to doubt I ever walked down the aisle. Maybe it was all a dream. Maybe I’m single again and I just don’t know it.

Not that I have the appetite for anyone else. Once Luka’s hands were on me, I knew I didn’t want to be touched by anyone else. We’re enemies with benefits, although the later part of that is really starting to seem like it’s never going to happen again.

But that’s not the worst of this whole situation. There’s something else I’ve had to address, something I should’ve been far more careful about.

I adjust my grip on my purse, fighting back another wave of nausea as I make my way down the hallway to my penthouse.

The doctor's words echo in my mind, making my head spin. Pregnant. I'm pregnant. With Luka's child.

I pause at my door, fumbling with my keys. My hands are shaking, and I can't tell if it's from the news or just another lovely symptom of my condition. Taking a deep breath, I steady myself and push the door open.

The moment I step inside, I know something's off. There's a presence in my home, a subtle shift in the air that sets my nerves on edge. My heart rate kicks up, adrenaline flooding my system as I cautiously move further into the apartment.

That's when I see him.

Luka is lounging on my couch as if he belongs there, his imposing figure a stark contrast to my carefully curated feminine decor. He's as devastatingly handsome as ever, dressed in a tailored suit that hugs his muscular frame in all the right places. His piercing blue eyes lock onto mine, a smile dancing across his face when he sees me.

"Welcome home, wife," he drawls, his deep voice sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

I clench my fists at my sides, torn between the urge to throw myself into his arms and the desire to slap that smug look off his face. "What the hell are you doing here?" I demand, my voice coming out sharper than I intended. "How did you even get in?"

Luka raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Is that any way to greet your husband? As for how I got in..." He shrugs, the movement causing his shirt to stretch enticingly across his broad chest. "I have my ways."

"You broke in," I say flatly, crossing my arms over my chest. I ignore the way my body reacts to his presence, the traitorous flutter in my stomach that has nothing to do with morning sickness.

"Broke in?" Luka repeats, feigning offense. "Darling, I’m hurt by your words. How can a man break into his own home?"

I roll my eyes, shrugging off my jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair with more force than necessary. "This isn't your home, Luka. And don't call me darling."

He stands in one fluid motion, crossing the room to me in a few long strides. I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze, cursing the way my breath catches at his proximity, the smell of him washing over me. "You didn't seem to mind me calling you darling before," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. "In fact, if I recall correctly, you quite enjoyed it. More than once a day at times.”

Heat floods my cheeks as memories of our time together flash through my mind. The feeling of his hands on my body, his lips trailing fire across my skin, the way he'd growl "darling" in my ear as he?—

No. I shake my head, forcing those thoughts away. "That was then," I say, taking a step back to put some distance between us. "This is now. What do you want, Luka?"

He studies me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he reaches out and cups my face in his large, calloused hand. The gentle touch is such a contrast to his usual demeanor that it catches me off guard.

"You look pale," he says, concern evident in his voice. "Are you feeling alright?"

I swallow hard, very aware of the pamphlet burning a hole in my purse. Should I tell him? The words are on the tip of my tongue, but fear holds them back. We agreed this would be casual, after all, and I have no idea how he’ll react. “I’m fine," I lie, pulling away from his touch. "Just tired. Now, are you going to tell me why you're here, or should I call security?"

Luka's eyes narrow slightly, and I know he doesn't believe me. But he doesn't push, instead moving back to sit on the couch. "I need your help with something," he says, his tone shifting to all business. “A favor from my beautiful wife.”

I raise an eyebrow, curiosity getting the better of me. "Oh? And what could the great Luka Volkov possibly need my help with? You seem to have been able to handle your business just fine on your own all this time."

He shrugs his broad shoulders. “You’re not really angry at me about this, are you? I was giving you space. It’s not like you really wanted to marry me.”

“You wanted it,” I snap. “And now you’re acting like you don’t. Barely a text, not even a visit…”

“I’m visiting now,” he replies, cocking his head to the side like he doesn’t understand my frustration.

“Because you want something,” I say, grabbing the roots of my hair and tugging them.

His voice is calm, much more than mine is. “That’s what this is about, darling. We both want something from each other, and the marriage is simply to ensure we both get what we need. Or have you forgot that already?”

I grit my teeth at his response, but he’s right. We agreed not to have feelings, and the first thing I did when he left was start daydreaming about our future together.

Silence settles over us, and I let out a sigh. “Okay, so what is it that you want?”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "The Governor's wife is hosting her annual birthday bash next week. I need to attend."

"And you need me because...?" I prompt, even though I have a sinking feeling I already know the answer.

"Because you always get an invite," Luka says, confirming my suspicions. "And because the good Governor owes me a substantial sum of money. I intend to collect."

I stare at him, incredulous. "What are you, a loan shark?"

Luka's laugh is dark and without humor. "Not quite. I murdered his opponent so he could become Governor. He seems to have forgotten that little favor lately. It’s time he had a reminder.”

The casual way he admits to murder sends a chill down my spine. It's easy to forget, sometimes, just how dangerous Luka really is. How different our worlds are.

"That's..." I struggle to find the words, disgust and a reluctant sort of admiration warring within me. "That's horrible. And illegal. And... God, Luka, do you have any idea how corrupt that is?"

He shrugs, seemingly unbothered by my reaction. "It's business, Natalia. Nothing personal. And if the corruption of Moscow is new to you… well, I regret to inform you that it’s part of the fabric of our society.”

“Your society. Not mine.” I shake my head, pacing the length of my living room. "I can't believe you're asking me to help you with this. It's wrong on so many levels."

"Says the woman who married me to protect her family," Luka counters, his voice maddeningly calm. "We all do what we must to survive in this world, kitten. At least I'm honest about it."

His words hit home, and I stop pacing to look at him. He's right, in a way. I made my choice when I agreed to this arrangement. Can I really judge him for playing by the rules of his world? A world I willingly stepped into, knowing what I was getting in the end?

"Fine," I say after a long moment. "I'll take you to the party. But only because I hate cheaters and liars even more than I hate corruption. At least you're upfront about your misdeeds."

Luka's answering smile is predatory, sending a shiver of equal parts fear and excitement down my spine. "I knew I could count on you, wife."

He stands, adjusting his suit jacket. As he moves towards the door, I'm struck by a sudden, irrational fear that if I let him walk out now, I might never see him again. The thought makes my chest ache in a way I'm not prepared to examine too closely.

"Luka, wait," I call out, surprising myself.

He pauses, turning back to me with a raised eyebrow. "Yes?"

I open my mouth, then close it again. The truth is there, on the tip of my tongue. I'm pregnant. We're going to have a baby. But the words won't come. Instead, I hear myself asking, "Will you... will you stay for dinner?"

Surprise flashes across Luka's face, quickly replaced by something softer, almost vulnerable. "I'd like that," he says quietly.

As I move to the kitchen to start preparing a meal, my mind races. I should tell him about the baby. He has a right to know. But the memory of his words from our honeymoon echoes in my ears: "My world isn't safe for real relationships. For families."

Would he even want this child? Would he resent me for trapping him in the very situation he swore to avoid? And what kind of life could we offer a baby, with Luka's dangerous lifestyle and my own career ambitions? I swore that I wouldn’t be like my mother, that I wouldn’t give up my career for a family. But the truth is, I don’t know how to do both.

I'm so lost in thought that I don't hear Luka approach until his arms wrap around my waist from behind. I stiffen for a moment before relaxing into his embrace, hating how right it feels, grateful that my stomach is still flat.

"What's really going on, Natalia?" he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. "You're not yourself today. I know I haven’t known you for long, but even I can tell that much.”

I close my eyes, leaning back against his solid chest. It would be so easy to turn in his arms, to bury my face in the crook of his neck and confess everything. To let him take control, to shoulder this burden with me.

But I can't. Not yet. Not until I figure out what I want, what's best for this unexpected life growing inside me.

"It's nothing," I lie, forcing a smile as I turn to face him. "I'm just glad you're here."

Luka studies me for a long moment, his piercing gaze seeming to see right through me. It travels through my flesh and bones, entering my core where my nervous soul rests. Then, slowly, he leans down and kisses me.

I melt into him, all thoughts of dinner forgotten as his hands roam my body. It's been too long since I've felt his touch, and my body responds eagerly, bowing into him as if we were made for each other.

"Luka," I gasp as he trails hot kisses down my neck. "We shouldn't..."

"Why not?" he growls, nipping at my pulse point. "You're my wife, aren't you? Even if it's just on paper."

The reminder of our arrangement is like a bucket of cold water. I push him away gently, trying to ignore the hurt that flashes in his eyes. "You're right," I say, hating how breathless I sound. "This is just business. We should keep things professional between us.”

Luka takes a step back, his expression closing off. "Of course," he says, his voice clipped. "My apologies, Mrs. Volkova. I'll see myself out."

Before I can stop him, he's gone, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality that makes my heart ache. I slump against the kitchen counter, one hand coming to rest on my still-flat stomach.

"What am I going to do?" I whisper to the empty apartment, tears pricking at my eyes.

As the silence stretches on, offering no answers, I can't shake the feeling that I've just made a terrible mistake. But which one was worse—letting Luka go, or not telling him the truth?

Only time will tell. And time, it seems, is the one luxury I no longer have.

With shaking hands, I reach into my purse and pull out the pamphlet from my doctor's appointment. The words "Your First Trimester" stare back at me, a stark reminder of the life growing inside me. I trace the outline of a developing fetus on the cover, my vision blurring with unshed tears.

"Oh, Luka," I whisper to the empty room, "what have we done?"

The weight of my secret feels crushing now, made heavier by Luka's departure. I slide down to the floor, my back against the kitchen cabinets, and let the tears fall freely. The pamphlet crumples in my grip as I hug my knees to my chest.

In this moment, the reality of my situation hits me full force. I'm pregnant with the child of a dangerous man, a man I'm irresistibly drawn to but can never truly have. A man who just admitted to murder as casually as discussing the weather.

And yet, despite everything, a small part of me yearns for a future with Luka. A future where we're more than just a business arrangement, where this baby is a blessing rather than a complication. The image of Luka cradling our child, his usually hard eyes softened with love, flashes through my mind, making my heart burn with longing.

But can I risk it? Can I bring an innocent child into this world of danger and violence? And more importantly, can I trust Luka with something as precious and vulnerable as our baby?

As the night deepens around me, I remain on the kitchen floor, torn between hope and fear, love and duty. The pamphlet lies open beside me, a constant reminder of the choice I'll have to make.

The tiles are cool against my hot skin, and I allow myself to spread out on them, willing them to take away some of the pulsating regret and anxiety that permeates my skin. I’ve done this to myself, but I want to point the finger elsewhere. At Luka. At my father, even, but none of that would change the situation I’m in.

Nothing changes the fact that I’ve fallen pregnant with Luka’s baby.

"I'm sorry, little one," I murmur, placing a hand on my still-flat stomach. "I promise, no matter what happens, I'll always protect you."

As I finally drag myself to bed, exhausted and emotionally drained, the consequences of my fleeting passion follow me like a heavy black cloak, pinned to my aching shoulders. I can’t rid myself of the feeling that this is just the beginning of a story that will either lead to the ruin of everything I hold dear, or change my life, and the lives of everyone around me, forever.

Only time will tell. And time, it seems, is the one thing money and power can't control.