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Boris studies me for a moment, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He leans down, his face inches away from mine. “Oh yeah? You fuck every client you dance for?”
I blush, knowing what he’s trying to imply. He’s trying to tell me that doesn’t sound like the girl he met that night. And he’s right.
I can’t come up with a reasonable response, and what I decide to say is so obnoxious, but I hope it freaks him out enough to step away. “Well, you were so good that I thought I wanted totry it once again. So no. Not every client, but a few. Sure. And before you ask, I don’t remember which client it was.”
"A client?" he repeats, raising an eyebrow. "Robin, are you telling me you slept with a client and ended up pregnant?"
I can't look at him, so I turn away. His gaze is too intense, tearing through the lies I've just dared to spill.
“Tell me!” he almost bellows.
I jump out of my seat and nod.
He steps back and paces up and down the corridor. Then, after a few seconds, he seals my fate forever. “That was a nice try, Robin. I don’t know why you aren’t admitting the child is mine, but I no longer need your confirmation because I now know, without a doubt, that you’re pregnant with my baby. You see, a few days later, I tried to find you. I went back to the club and spoke with your boss, Tony. He said you quit right after we met. Something tells me you didn’t go to another club, especially after that hefty tip I gave you.”
What the hell?My heart begins to pound. He went looking for me? Whatever for?
“So now,” he rumbles, inching closer to me and placing his thumb and forefinger on my chin. He gently lifts my face up to meet his gaze. “I will only ask you this once. Otherwise, there’ll be a paternity test. Are you pregnant with my child?”
The ground shifts beneath my feet, partly because I’ve been exposed and also because his touch ignites a flame within me—the same flame I felt when we first met. I shudder as he slowly grazes my cheek and I whisper, “Yes. You’re the only man I’ve ever been with.”
Boris looks at me, his eyes darkening with desire and something else I can’t quite place. He leans in closer, his breath warm on my skin. “And you’re the only woman I’m going tomarry.” His voice is a low growl, and I feel the heat between us build.
I swallow hard, trying to gather my wits, but all I can think about is the way his fingers feel on my skin and the way his lips taste. I can’t deny the truth any longer. “Boris, I’m scared. There must be another way. You can still be a part of this child’s life without marrying me.”
“In another life, maybe. But in this life, we need to get married. It’s simply not an option but a necessity,” he sighs, standing up straight with his hands behind his back, like something is haunting him.
“What? Why? Can you please stop talking in riddles?” I demand, rising to my feet to meet him.
He nods. “You’re right. You deserve to know the truth. You see, as the mother of my child, both you and the child will be in immense danger unless you’re permanently under my protection.”
“Immense danger?”
“You could be kidnapped, tortured, or worse.”
I try to understand. “Is it because you’re rich? Do you have people who want something from your business? Look, we can hire bodyguards. We can move to different towns or cities. Can’t we?”
“It’s not that I’m a rich businessman, Robin,” he says, clearly frustrated. “It’s that I…” he pauses. “Have you heard of the mafia?"
I nod weakly.
“Well, in Russia, we call it the Bratva.”
“Okay. And?” I ask, almost instantly, wondering what he’s trying to say.
“I happen to be a member of a very powerful Bratva family—in fact, perhaps one of the most powerful ones in America.”
Bratva. Like those guys in the movies surrounded by blood, death, weapons, and drugs. The room spins, and for a second, I can't breathe. Suddenly, it all makes sense. My uncle's drop-off, the walls lined with guns, Boris’s men shooting up the place—they weren't just shady business deals; they were Bratva dealings.
I blink, trying to take it all in. What the hell am I getting myself into? And wait, is my uncle a part of the rival family? If he is, he could someday be in deep trouble. Perhaps if I’m married to Boris, I could help him out if needed.
"Do you understand?" he asks, his voice a mix of urgency and something else. Resignation?
I swallow, the reality of the situation sinking in. It was one thing to dance around the truth, but this... this was a whole different level of scary.
"Okay," I finally speak, my heart pounding in my chest. "So what does this all mean?"
He looks at me, his eyes dark and intense. "It means that you're carrying my child, and with that comes a level of danger that I can't ignore. Our enemies may try to harm you and our future child to get to me, seek revenge, or plot our downfall. You could meet a terrible fate if you’re not surrounded by my Bratva, my men, keeping an eye on you both. I need to protect you, and the only way to do that is by marrying you."
