Chapter Eleven
Lauren
He stands in my apartment like he owns it.
Like he owns me.
There’s something commanding about his presence. He’s a man of few words, but his company always seems to be the loudest. Like a bird of prey silently gliding through the air, looking for its next kill. The kind that even planes dodge because he’s freaking indestructible.
He brings a glass of water to his lips and gulps, continuing to stare at me.
Not much has changed since last time. I still feel like I’m being psychoanalyzed.
“Don’t get rid of the baby.”
As if that’s what I plan on doing.
I straighten my spine. I always feel the need to do that when he’s around, to make myself appear bigger. Which is ridiculous. Not to mention that it doesn’t make much difference because the man is built like Godzilla.
“That’s my choice to make.”
I could tell him about the unconditional love I already have for this baby, but Nikolai doesn’t get to see the emotional side of me.
“You’re not going to keep me out of this.”
A knot forms in my neck, tension building there.
God, why do I like the sound of that? And why must my body always react like this?
The effect he has on me is embarrassing.
No matter how many times I try to untense my muscles, no matter how many times I tell myself to chill out, I just can’t. My heart is in my throat again.
“And if I do?”
“Then you will regret it.”
Anger rises in my throat. Who the hell does he think he is? Would he still act this way if he wasn’t a crime lord?
I clench my jaw and look away. “Threatening me isn’t going to work.”
“It isn’t a threat. It’s a fact.”
There he goes again, trying to one-up me. My skin crawls. I hate him. What he stands for. I hate that he’s dangerous, I hate the effect he’s having on me, and I hate that ever since I met him at Sophia’s wedding, my life has turned upside down.
I’m being watched. Not just in the parking lot after my doctor’s visit. Just yesterday when I went to Walmart to do my weekly shopping. Or in the evening the other day, after I finished my workout at the gym.
I hate the thought that Nikolai may have been right.
He warned me to stop digging where I shouldn’t be and that there would be consequences.
And lo and behold, there are consequences.
I am pregnant by a Russian mob boss, and I’m certain someone or someones keep following me around, lurking in the shadows, thinking I don’t know they’re there.
I’ve always been hypervigilant about my surroundings and I know when I’m being watched.
Maybe I am in too deep now.
Maybe things are starting to catch up to me.
Maybe I do actually need his help, even though I don’t want him around.
And worst of all, this isn’t just about me anymore. There’s a baby in the equation now. My baby.
But the problem is, baby daddy has enemies.
Pretty dangerous ones.
Nikolai Rogov comes as a package deal. If I were to, hypothetically, welcome him into my life, I wouldn’t just be welcoming him and our child.
I’d be welcoming his boneheaded Bratva buddies and all of their competitors.
I don’t know much about syndicates and other criminal organizations, but I do know that being tied to a mob boss isn’t exactly the safest way to raise a child.
No. It’s too risky to get involved with him.
So why does my heart sink at the thought of cutting him off?
We stare at one another, silence stretching between us. I expect him to say something else, but he doesn’t, so I shove past him, heart pounding as I head for my bedroom.
It’s probably not the wisest idea, leaving the Pakhan alone in my apartment, but I can’t look at him right now.
Those icy eyes make me cold to the bone.
I feel sick, unsure if it’s from the pregnancy or from him.
Looking at his face for too long sends me into a trance.
It’s like he’s trying to hypnotize me, stealing away my mind and my free will.
He’s the walking definition of danger.
And it’s not just because of his brute strength. It’s more the effect he has on my body and my mind.
I make it two steps before he grabs my wrist, flinging me back.
“You’re carrying my child,” he grits out, his face now inches from mine. “That means you don’t get to make decisions alone anymore.”
My heart thumps in my chest, my breath running away from me. Our eyes lock again.
But I rip free.
I will not be hypnotized by his eyes again.
It’s nothing but a dirty tactic. He wants to control me just like my father, and I’m sick of powerful men trying to control me.
I don’t care how wet I get every time we have one of our staring competitions, or how much I want him to bend me over and fuck me senseless.
He’s a master manipulator and the leader of a criminal organization. I can’t have him around me.
“Leave.” I march over to the door and open it for him. “Now.”
Again, he stares, and I feel my knees start to buckle. He’s too sure of himself—I see it in his eyes. He’s acting smug because he thinks he’s got me figured out.
Maybe he does, Lauren.
Nikolai crosses the room, but not to exit the apartment. He strides over to me, stepping into my space, confident that he knows how much my body is drawn to him and how unwilling I am to admit it. Our faces are inches away again, and he stands over me, turning everything into a long dark shadow.
He draws a long breath, husky-blue eyes still set on mine.
God, he smells amazing. So masculine. His scent reminds me of peppermint—fresh, but there's an undertone of darkness I can’t quite put a finger on.
Whatever it is, it’s enough for me to want him again.
My core burns for him like a volcano about to erupt.
Which is exactly why I need him to leave before I rip off my panties, open my legs, and let him plant a second Bratva baby in me.
God, why does that sound so tempting?
The pull we have is too strong, and I know he feels it too. His scent washes over me once again, making me lightheaded. I have to take a step back against the wall and stabilize my body.
“You like being pressed up against the wall, don’t you?” He arches a dark eyebrow.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “No.”
“Then how come we always end up in this position?”
Damn him!
I drop eye contact.
There’s nowhere to look but at his crotch, and I see his dick straining against his tight suit pants.
It’s been three weeks since our ‘encounter’ and I hate that they were the longest three weeks of my life.
I went to bed thinking about him more times than I’d like to admit.
I pleasured myself thinking about him more times than I’d like to admit.
I invested in a good dildo a few years back after reaching the conclusion that it’s simply impossible to have a satisfying orgasm with a man.
It’s worked wonders for years, until Nikolai Rogov came along.
I was hoping that our hookup would give me clarity, dampen the sexual tension, but it only made things worse.
I want him even more now.
And if that’s not enough, I’m pregnant with his child.
“You want to control,” he continues, his breath hot on my neck. “But deep down, I think you have a kink for submission.”
“Excuse me?” I snap.
“What do you want?” He slides his hands down to his waist, teasing the belt. My eyes trail down, watching, my heart rate spiking.
“I want you to—”
“Leave?” His dangerous eyes search my face. “Then why are you soaking down there?” He raises a finger and caresses my cheek. “Don’t think I don’t know.”
Shit.
Fuck.
Shit!
This is all too much. The raspy, Russian accent; the dark demeanor. My lips tingle for his. My gaze lands on his lips and I rise onto my tiptoes hoping to bring our mouths together.
But nothing happens.
Nothing happens, because he pulls away, the bastard. He looks at me one last time, smirks, then opens the door and walks out. It slams behind him, the sound echoing in my living room and around my disappointed body.
Just like that.
Damn you, Nikolai Rogov!
Not knowing what to do with myself, I remain by the wall, the sweat on my forehead turning cold. I should be grateful that he left before we could get too carried away again. But I’m not. It feels like a loss.
And if that’s not enough, I humiliated myself by going in for a kiss. Because now, the truth is exposed.
He knows that although I hate him, I want him even more.