Chapter 10 Lily
Lily
Zakhar is still pushing his cum into me when the alarm screams at four in the morning. I want to throw my phone across the room.
I reach out to silence it, my body protesting every small movement. I'm sore everywhere. Muscles I forgot I had make themselves known, and there’s a deep ache between my legs that's both uncomfortable and oddly satisfying as he continues to stroke at my entrance.
“I need to get up,” I say, reaching for his hand.
"You can’t stand up yet.” His words are final, sending shivers down my spine despite my exhaustion.
"I need to get to work. The bakery opens at six."
"No, it doesn't,” he says, not taking his eyes from between my legs.
I freeze. "What?"
"You're closing today. Taking the day off."
I lift my head and look at him between my legs. Those pale grey eyes are sharp and focused despite the early hour. Focused on me.
"I can't just close. I have customers—"
"You have three customers on a good day, Lily. They'll survive one day without bread and pastries." He finally withdraws his fingers and shifts his focus to my face.
The bluntness stings because it's true. But still. "It's my business. I can't just—"
"Yes, you can." He sits up carefully, mindful of his wounds. "You need a day to recalibrate. To think. To decide what you actually want instead of just surviving on autopilot."
"I don't—"
"You do." His hand cups my jaw, gentle but firm. "When's the last time you took a real day off?"
I can't remember. Months? Maybe longer?
"That's what I thought." He leans in, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "One day, Lily. Give yourself that."
I open my mouth to argue, but find I can’t think of a reasonable word to say. I should tell him he doesn't get to make these decisions for me, that this is my life, my business, my choice. But I'm so tired.
"Okay," I whisper. "One day."
"Good girl."
The praise makes me clench, the sensation making me jump a little.
He pulls me back against his chest, and despite every instinct telling me to get up, to work, to keep pushing, I let myself sink into him.
Just for a moment.
I wake again to sunlight streaming through the curtains and the smell of coffee. For a disorienting second, I don't know where I am. Then it all comes flooding back.
Zakhar. The kiss. The sex. Multiple rounds of sex. Him telling me he wants to put a baby in me while he—
Oh God.
I sit up too quickly, the sheet pooling around my waist. I'm naked. Sore. Marked. I can see faint bruises on my hips where his hands gripped me, a hickey on my breast that I definitely didn't notice him leaving.
Evidence of everything that happened last night.
"Coffee's ready."
I jump, clutching the sheet to my chest. Zakhar is leaning against the doorframe, fully dressed in fresh clothes I know he didn’t have before this morning.
He looks better than he has any right to, his wounds healing well, color back in his face, a predatory grace I’ve only seen hints of before now.
He looks like a man who knows exactly what he wants.
And apparently, what he wants is me. Pregnant.
"I—" My voice comes out rough. I clear my throat. "I need a shower."
"Take your time." His eyes rake over me, dark with satisfaction. "I'm not going anywhere."
I flee to the bathroom, locking the door behind me even though I know it's pointless. If he wanted in, a lock wouldn't stop him.
The hot water helps. I stand under the spray, trying to organize my thoughts, trying to figure out what the hell I'm doing.
Last night was... incredible. Terrifying. Life-changing.
But in the cold light of morning, reality sets in fast.
I slept with a man I've known for a week. A Bratva soldier who's decided I belong to him. Who talked about breeding me like it was already decided.
And I let him.
More than that…I wanted it.
What does that make me?
I wash carefully, wincing at the soreness. When I finally emerge, wrapped in a towel, Zakhar is sitting at my small kitchen table with two cups of coffee and what looks like takeout bags.
"You went out?" I ask.
"Called in a favor. Clothes. Food delivery." He gestures to the chair across from him. "Sit. Eat."
"I’m just going to get dressed first," I say, moving through to the bedroom before he can stop me.
"There’s little point in that," I hear him call out. “But if it makes you feel better.” I can almost hear the smirk in his tone.
I pull on clean clothes with shaking hands. Leggings and an oversized sweater that makes me feel slightly more in control. When I return, Zakhar is pouring cream into my coffee, the exact amount I take.
I sit. He pushes a container toward me, eggs, toast, bacon. Real food, not the scraps I usually grab between baking shifts.
We eat in silence for a few minutes. Comfortable in a way that shouldn't be possible with a man I barely know.
"We need to talk," I say finally. I set down my fork, hands folding in my lap to stop them from shaking. "What are we doing, Zakhar?"
"We are accepting that our lives are entwined, and making the most of it." A glimmer of darker promises flashes in his eyes.
"It's not that simple,” I argue, meeting his eyes. "You're Bratva. You have a life; a world I know nothing about. I have this bakery, this legacy from my aunt. I can't just abandon everything because—"
"Your aunt wouldn't want you to be struggling like you are," he counters before sliding more eggs into his mouth. His lips close around the fork and I watch as he draws it from between them. Those lips were on me a couple of hours ago, making me break apart.
"You don't know what she'd want. You didn’t know her," I don’t say it to be argumentative, but they do come from a place of pain. Pain I feel like an infected wound that I can’t close up no matter what I do.
"I know she left you this place because she loved you. Because she wanted you to be happy. Are you happy, Lily?"
The question hangs in the air. I want to say yes. Want to defend my choices, my business, my life, but I can't.
"I'm trying," I whisper.
"Trying isn't the same as succeeding." He leans forward. "Your aunt wouldn't think less of you for giving this up. For choosing something different."
"You don't know that." I push the container of food away from me, unable to cope with the sight or smell of it while I handle these feelings swirling inside me.
"Maybe not. But I know she wouldn't want you drowning. Breaking yourself for a business that's failing, not because of anything you did wrong, but because the system is broken."
Tears prick my eyes. "This was her dream."
"Precisely,” he says with what looks like a gentle smile. It’s the first time I’ve seen his eyes soften and it breaks something open inside of me. “It was her dream. Not yours."
"I don't want to fail her."
"You haven't. You tried. You gave it everything. That's not failure, Lily. That's courage."
A tear escapes, trailing down my cheek. He reaches across the table, wiping it away with his thumb.
"What if I want to keep it?" I ask. "The bakery. What if I'm not ready to give up?"
"Then I’ll help you. We make it work together. Turn it profitable, sustainable. Whatever you need."
"Just like that?" I ask with a wet pop of laughter.
"Just like that."
I search his face for the lie, the catch. Find nothing but certainty.
"Why?" I whisper. "Why would you do that?"
"Because you're mine. And I take care of what's mine."
The possessiveness settles something deep in my chest. A weight I've been carrying alone for so long, suddenly shared, suddenly so much more manageable.
"I need to think about it," I say. "The bakery. What I actually want versus what I think I should want."
"That's fair."
We finish eating in silence. He clears the containers away, moving around my kitchen like he belongs here.
"Zakhar?" I ask, heat flooding my cheeks.
"Yeah?"
"Last night. The things you said. About..." I can't quite make myself say it.
"About breeding you?"
I swallow. "Yes. That."
He turns to face me, leaning against the counter. "What about it?"
"Did you mean it?" I ask quietly, head down, unable to look him in the eyes.
"Every word."
"But... we've only known each other a week. You can't possibly want—"
He lifts my face up so I have no choice but to look him in the eye. "I want everything, Lily. You. A child. A future. All of it."
My heart is racing. "This is different. A baby is... permanent. Life-changing. You can't just decide—"
"I'm Bratva," he interrupts. "My uncle, the Pakhan, gave an order months ago. Every one of his nephews has one year to produce a legitimate heir."
The words land like ice water. Everything stops.
"What?" I choke out.
"One year. Twelve months. To find a woman, marry her, get her pregnant. Secure the line or we lose our place in the family."
I'm standing before I realize I've moved, backing away from him. "So that's what this is? I'm just... convenient? The woman stupid enough to let you in, to patch you up, to spread her legs on command?"
"No—"
"You needed an heir. I was here. An easy solution." My voice is rising, panic and hurt warring in my chest. "God, I'm such an idiot. You probably planned this from the first night—"
"Lily, stop."
"No! You want to breed me because your uncle told you to? Because it saves your position? I'm not—I won't be—"
"LILY." His voice cracks like a whip, stopping my spiral. He crosses to me in three strides, gripping my shoulders, firm enough to ground me. "Listen to me."
"Let go—"
"No. You're going to listen." His eyes bore into mine. "Yes, the Pakhan gave that order. Yes, I need to produce an heir. But that's not why I want you."
"Then why?"
"Because I've never wanted anything the way I want you. Because the moment you opened that door, something changed. Because I could, and would, walk away from the Bratva entirely if it meant keeping you."
I shake my head. "You don't mean that."
"I do." His grip gentles, thumbs stroking my shoulders. "If you told me right now that being with me means I have to leave the brotherhood, abandon my family, start over with nothing, I'd do it. For you. With you. Forever."
I shake my head from side to side, still not believing him.
"I want you, Lily. I want you pregnant with my child. I want you in my life, my home, my bed. Forever. But not because the Pakhan ordered it. Because I can't imagine any other future. Even if that means I have to learn to bake and run this place with you."
His words break something open in my chest. All the fear, the resistance, the desperate need to stay in control, it cracks wide.
"You’re holding onto everything too hard, Lily," he says, pushing a strand of still wet hair from my face. “Don’t try and push me away over something stupid. Take it, own it, make it yours.”
“What if it doesn’t work out?” I whisper.
"It will. But we can put something in place as a reassurance for you until we do have children. A prenup of sorts. But you won’t need it. You’re mine already, Lily, whether you’re let yourself accept it or not. I will never let you go, and I’ll never let you down.”