Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Annika
“Is it mine?”
I look up from my stomach, still in disbelief at the news. I immediately meet my mystery man’s eyes, and feel a tremor of recognition go through me. I still can’t believe it. Of all the people that cab driver could have been, how is it possible that I was with the Pakhan?
I didn’t know who he was that night, but I certainly know now. Kirill Bogdanov Pavlovich. The ultimate boss of the entire Russian mafia. And…the brother of my betrothed. If, that is, I am still betrothed.
“Pakhan,” I whisper, trembling with fear and shame. I bite my bottom lip to keep it from wobbling. “I’ve caused great disrespect for your family. I’m so sorry-”
“Hush,” Kirill states, his tone soft but commanding, “And answer the question, Annika. Is. It. Mine.”
“Yes,” I breathe.
Heat pours into my cheeks as our eyes stay locked.
“I don’t…I don’t go out often, and if I meet a guy I always use a condom. I never forget, I don’t know why I did that night, I’m so sorr-”
“Enough, Annika,” Kirill states.
He pushes away from the door to walks into my room.
I can’t help but notice the powerful, authoritative steps, the tilt of his proud chin- and even, the utterly alluring way his muscles moved even in the black tuxedo.
To my surprise, the Pakhan takes a seat on the edge of my bed, and reaches for my hand. I flinch, even though it feels warm and safe.
“Do not be afraid of me,” he tells me, stroking his thumb over the back of my hand. “This is just as much my fault as it is yours. I don’t do one night stands either. I don’t know what came over me that night. But I will make it right.”
I feel my brow tense.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
Kirill’s eyes dip to my stomach, and though I’m still new to the idea of being pregnant, I instinctively pull my hand from his and cover my stomach with my arms. My fingers still tingle from the warmth of Kirill’s touch, and I curl them as they cool as if to try to retain some of that heat.
His eyes flick back up to mine, as if he’s offended by the protective gesture. He clears his throat, stands, turning his back to me.
“My brother is not thrilled at the news that you are carrying another man’s child,” Kirill explains. “Even when he is told that the child is mine, I very much doubt that he will go through with the wedding.”
Though I completely understand, it doesn’t stop the sense of shame flooding through me.
“The alliance,” I say, my voice suddenly raspy, “It means a great deal to my family. Please, do not stop it. I don’t want-”
“No,” Kirill says sharply, not allowing me to finish. “Both of our families need this. There will be an alliance. And a wedding. Given the circumstances, it is only right that I marry you.”
A mixture of relief and fear hit me so viciously that it makes me dizzy.
It's one thing to marry a member of the Paglovich family, but to marry the head of the family himself? I suddenly envision the potential of juggling my life and the life dedicated to my family fade. My art. My dreams. My choices. It all suddenly feels forfeited to the singular role I’d be forced to fill as the Pakhan’s wife.
“I’m not thrilled about this either, you know.”
The hostility in Kirill’s voice has my gaze jerking up to him, and I suddenly realize how sad I must look. I try to fix my expression, to apologize, but Kirill stops me.
“We will do what needs to be done,” he states, his tone harsh.
“My man will send you the funds necessary to buy another dress. Unfortunately the one today had to be cut off of you. Even if it hadn’t, I wouldn’t want to marry you in a dress that was meant for my brother.
So get a new one, and you and I will have our ceremony by the end of the month. ”
His words are as cutting as his tone, and with my options now more limited than ever, I bow my head, hoping to hide my tears, and nod. Without another word, I hear Kirill’s footsteps disappear down the hall.