Page 59 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

“Did you ever see the results yourself, or did Dmitri tell you what they said?”

I open my mouth to respond, then close it again. The truth is that I never saw the results. I took the tests, yes, but it was always his private doctors and his physicians doing those tests.

“Oh my God,” I whisper.

Oksana squeezes my hand. “I’m not saying this to hurt you, but you need to know the truth. If you’re pregnant, it’s not a miracle. It’s just biology.”

A laugh bubbles up in my throat, but it comes out as a sob. “I don’t even know if I’m pregnant.”

“Then take a test.”

“I can’t. If Roman finds out⁠—”

“Roman doesn’t have to know. Not yet.” She stands up and pulls me to my feet. “There’s a pharmacy three blocks from here. We’ll have your answer soon enough.”

I want to say yes. I want to let her take care of me, to let her make the decisions so I don’t have to. Something stops me.

“I can’t,” I say. “Roman left security outside. He told me not to leave without them.”

Oksana’s expression hardens. “Since when do you let a man tell you what to do?”

“Since a man with a gun started standing outside the door.”

Her expression grows fierce. “And since when has that ever stopped you?”

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.

She’s right. Of course she is. Has a woman like Oksana ever been wrong?

I spent three years letting Dmitri control every aspect of my life, where I went, who I saw, what I wore. Now I’m doing it again, aren’t I? Different man, same cage.

Roman might be kinder about it, might frame it as protection instead of possession, but the result is the same. I’m sitting in this penthouse, waiting for permission to leave.

“I need to get out of here,” I say.

Oksana studies me for a long moment. Then she nods. “Then let’s go.”

My heart is pounding. I’ve never defied Roman before, but Oksana is right.

“Okay,” I say. “Let’s go.”

I grab my coat and head for the door. Oksana follows a step behind me.

The security detail is stationed in the hallway, just as I expected. There are two men in dark suits, their expressions blank. One holds a pistol, and the other has a cruel-looking rifle by his side. They straighten when they see me.

“Mrs. Volkonsky.” The taller one nods. “Is everything alright?”

“I need some air,” I say. My voice is steadier than I feel. “I’m going for a walk.”

The two men exchange a glance. “Mr. Volkonsky left instructions⁠—”

“I know what he left.” I cut them off, surprising myself with the firmness in my voice. “I’m telling you I need to get out of this apartment for a little while. Oksana is coming with me.”

The taller one hesitates. I can see him weighing his options, trying to decide whether to push back or let it go.

“Oksana,” he says, his eyes shifting to her. “You’ll be with her the whole time?”

“Of course.” Oksana’s voice is calm, reassuring. “We’re just going for a walk. Nothing more.”