Accidental Bratva Daddy (Bratva Blessings)

Chapter 17Natalia

17

Natalia

T he gentle whirr of the ultrasound machine fills Dr. Petrov's examination room as he moves the wand across my still-flat stomach. Luka stands beside me, his large hand enveloping mine, thumb stroking reassuringly across my knuckles. The screen shows grainy black-and-white images that I'm still learning to decipher, but I can make out two distinct shapes now. Our babies are growing stronger every day.

"Ah, there we are," Dr. Petrov says, his expression warm as he adjusts the angle slightly. "Would you like to know the sexes?"

My breath catches in my throat as I look up at Luka. His blue eyes meet mine, and I see my own excitement reflected there. We hadn't discussed whether we wanted to know, but in this moment, the desire to find out everything about our children is overwhelming.

"Yes," I whisper, squeezing Luka's hand. "Please tell us."

The doctor's smile widens as he points to the screen. "You're having one of each—a boy and a girl."

Joy explodes in my chest like fireworks. A boy and a girl. Perfect mirrors of Luka and me, a perfect balance. I turn to look at my husband, finding him grinning ear to ear, an expression of pure happiness that transforms his usually stern features.

"One of each," Luka repeats, his voice rough with emotion. He leans down to press a kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering against my skin. "You've given me everything, moya lyubov ."

Dr. Petrov prints several copies of the ultrasound images before leaving us alone. I sit up on the examination table, my hand instinctively going to my stomach as I look at the pictures. Our children—our son and daughter—captured in grainy black and white.

"We should start thinking about names," I say, tracing the outline of our babies with my finger. "Something strong for our little boy, something beautiful for our girl."

Luka helps me down from the table, his hands lingering on my waist. "What about Vladimir for the boy?" he suggests, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Or better yet, Boris?"

I wrinkle my nose, playing along. "Absolutely not. And I suppose you want to name our daughter Olga or Gertrude?"

"What's wrong with those names?" Luka protests, pulling me closer. "They're classic Russian names, strong and?—"

"Horrible," I cut him off, laughing. "Our children will thank me for saving them from your terrible taste."

Luka's chest rumbles with laughter, the sound warming me from the inside out. These moments of lightness and joy are becoming more frequent between us, the walls we built around our hearts crumbling bit by bit.

"What about Igor for the boy?" I suggest softly, watching Luka's face carefully. "After my father?"

Luka's expression softens, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. "I think that would be perfect," he says quietly. "Igor Lukovich Volkov."

The use of his patronymic brings fresh tears to my eyes. Our son will carry both our fathers' names, a bridge between our families, a symbol of hope for the future.

"And for our daughter?" Luka asks, his thumb brushing away a stray tear.

I consider for a moment, thinking of all the strong women in our lives. "What about Nadezhda?" I suggest. "It means 'hope' in Russian. That's what she is to me—hope for a better future, for all of us."

"Nadezhda," Luka repeats, testing the name on his tongue. "It's beautiful. Like her mother."

Before I can respond, Luka's phone buzzes in his pocket. His expression shifts subtly as he checks the screen, the carefree joy of moments ago replaced by his usual mask of control.

"I need to take this," he says, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. "Why don't you head back to the nursery? I'll join you when I'm done."

I nod, understanding that some parts of his life will always be separate from me. As he strides away, already speaking rapid Russian into his phone, I pull out my own device. My fingers hover over Viktor's contact for a moment before I type out a message.

"Uncle Viktor, I have wonderful news! We're having twins—a boy and a girl! I wish you were here to celebrate with us."

His response comes quickly, making me smile. "My darling niece, I always knew you'd have a big, beautiful family. You were meant to be a mother."

Warmth spreads through my chest at his words. Despite everything that's happened, despite the distance that's grown between our families, Uncle Viktor has always been there for me.

"When will you be back in Moscow?" I type. "Luka and I would love to have you over for dinner. There's so much to catch up on."

"Soon, my dear," he replies. "Very soon. And I'd be delighted to join you both for dinner when I return. I'm looking forward to meeting this husband of yours properly."

Encouraged by this success, I open a new message, this time to my mother and sister. My heart pounds as I compose the text, knowing how much rides on their response.

"Mama, Alina—I have news I'd like to share with you both. Please come for dinner. I miss you, and there's so much I need to tell you."

I set my phone down on the bedside table, my hand drifting back to my stomach. Will they come? Will they be happy about the babies, or will this just drive another wedge between us? And how will they react to seeing Luka again, now that we're truly building a life together?

The nursery catches my eye through the open door—the beautiful space we've created for our children, filled with love and hope and possibilities. A flash of uncertainty makes my chest tight. I want my children to know their family, all of it. But with so many secrets and lies between us, is that even possible?

My phone buzzes, making me jump. With trembling fingers, I reach for it, both eager and afraid to see the response. But before I can check, a shadow falls across the doorway.

Luka stands there, his expression unreadable as he watches me. Has he been there long? Did he see me texting Viktor? And why does the thought fill me with such unease?

"Everything okay?" I ask, trying to keep my voice light.

Luka's eyes soften as they meet mine, but there's something else there too—something dark and worried that makes my heart skip a beat.

"Everything's fine, darling," he says, crossing the room to pull me into his arms. "Just business."

I lean into his embrace, breathing in his familiar scent. But I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong, that there are storm clouds gathering on our horizon.

For now, though, I push those thoughts aside. Today should be about joy, about Igor and Nadezhda, about the family we're building together. Tomorrow will bring what it brings.

But as I rest my head against Luka's chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, I can't help but wonder: what price will we pay for this happiness? And when our two worlds inevitably collide, will our love be strong enough to weather the storm?