Page 2 of The Bratva’s Stalked Pregnant Bride

Uh oh. She never asked me to do that before. Really, everything was so casual here with her and her husband Nik that I’d never even sat down in her office.

“Have a seat,” she said, and my stomach couldn’t help but drop again. “I have some good news and, you know what, it’s actually all good news,” she said with a big smile. “I’m glad I caught you before Chance spilled the beans.”

Despite her assuring me it was all good news, I kept holding my breath until she told me that she was pregnant.

“Oh my gosh, that’s great,” I said, delighted for her.

They already had a little boy named Pavel who had been in the restaurant a couple of times, kept under tight scrutiny since so much was going on. They were amazing parents and truly deserved all the happiness in the world.

“Thank you,” she said. “We’re obviously thrilled, but after a week of going back and forth, we decided we just don’t want to deal with the high-octane restaurateur life with a newborn.”

How the hell was this also good news? I couldn’t believe I was going to be out of a job again so soon. My life flashed before my eyes, and there was so little I wanted to remember that I almost burst into tears.

“Stop,” Emerson said when she noticed. “We’re not abandoning everyone. We’ve decided to turn the place over to Nik’s cousin. Mikhail runs a very successful brewery in Moscow, and…” she trailed off.

I got stuck on brewery. That was impressive, but it was nothing like running an upscale restaurant with an ever-changing menu and, more importantly, one that served wine. Not beer.

“Everything’s going to be great,” she said, all of a sudden not seeming so chipper anymore.

“When will all this be official?” I asked.

“It’s already a done deal. Nik is insisting on a family vacation, starting now, and Mik’s going to come in this afternoon to meet everyone. We’re heading down to Mexico in the morning.”

I couldn’t even be mildly envious of her perfect life. This afternoon?

“I promise, everything will be fine,” she said, patting my hand. “He knows we’ve only hired the best. He’s not going to turn everything upside down. Keep doing what you’ve been doing.”

I left her office in a daze, understanding why Chance was so eager to share what he already knew. I learned that his husband wasn’t happy because the art-buying trip was cut short before he even got to a single auction.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” I said. “Maybe the new guy just wants to make sure he and Todd are on the same page before he makes any expensive choices.”

“Todd was already on the same page with Nik and Emerson,” Chance said. “What’s next? My kitchen? Andre’s menu?”

“He wouldn’t dare touch the menu,” I said.

Andre Slovak had gained his first Michelin star when he was only twenty-six, and it was crazy that he was starting over with a brand new restaurant, but the Fokins had gone all out for him.

I lowered my voice, feeling unaccountably mean. “Not when his only experience is in a brewery.”

Chance jumped on the catty train. “Yes, he can’t exactly throw pretzels on the table while people wait for their orders.”

My anxiety was in full throttle, but I instantly felt guilty for laughing. “He’s related to Nik,” I said, clinging to hope.

“Nepotism at its finest,” Chance said, shaking his head.

“No, I meant, he’s probably just as nice.”

“Girl, you’re too optimistic for your own good.”

We got back to work, Chance in the kitchen overseeing the shelving, and me in my tiny office connected to what was going to be a perfect little wine cellar behind the bar that had just been constructed the day before. Everything was unpainted and bare bones, but I could envision it because I’d been included in the planning. Nik and Emerson wanted me to feel like it was my domain, and trusted me, which meant a lot.

The only thing I really ever felt confident in was wine, and I knew full well what a miracle it was that I wasn’t back to being on the serving staff with that big hole in my resumé. It took what little I was able to walk away with to move down here; there was nothing in reserve to get back to Virginia if this didn’t work out.

Go back to my old job in Napa Valley? Not an option, not even on the coldest day in hell. The very idea would make me break out in hives, and that wouldn’t be a good first impression with my new boss. Oh God, I really didn’t want a new boss, or any kind of upheaval, when I still wasn’t over the last upheaval.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” I muttered under my breath before I hyperventilated.

I managed to get lost in an order, having a very nice conversation with someone who worked at a winery in Laguna Canyon. Nik and Emerson were all in on keeping things as local as possible, so I’d branched out to places down south so I could keep avoiding my old stomping grounds in Napa.