Page 62 of Bratva Ruin

“Italy,” she mutters. “You talked about it. Seems like you like it.”

“I was supposed to be exiled there, so it’s not that great.”

Sienna lifts her shoulders. “Maybe you still will be. Depends on how you act in these next three months.”

That earns a small laugh out of me, the first genuine one in what feels like weeks. “You threatening me with my own exile now?”

“Just saying,” she replies noncommittally. “If you screw this up, I’ll ship you there myself, with one suitcase and a note that says ‘do better.’”

I can’t help but grin at that. “You planning to visit me, at least?”

“Maybe. Depends on how dramatic your begging letters are.”

“Letters?” I scoff. “Princess, I’d fly back in a heartbeat.”

“Not if I have the pilot on my side.” She counters with a smirk. “And even then, I’ll lock you out of the house.”

“That’s brutal, princess.”

“That’s called life lessons, Volkov.” She looks back at me with stunning honey-brown eyes. “You need them.”

And for the first time since the gun went off, she doesn’t look scared. Just thoughtful.

Hopeful.

Mercilessly even, which makes my dick hard.

Open to a life with me.

Outside, the city keeps moving, unaware of what just changed inside this car.

After tonight, there’s no going back for Sienna and me.

She will be my wife in three months.

And I will worship her for the rest of my life.

15

Sienna

Three months later…

Pregnancy is a strange thing.

One week, I want nothing but chocolate croissants and cold peaches. The next, I’d kill someone for a plate of mashed potatoes with pickles.

Benedikt never complains. He just listens, nods, and makes it happen.

Sometimes he makes it himself, which always ends in a mess. Other nights, he sends Artem out at ungodly hours to hunt down whatever I’ve decided I can’t live without.

He’s been good.

Reallygood.

And that’s almost scarier than when he wasn’t.

Ben still works, of course, takes calls, and disappears sometimes, but he’s always back before midnight. Always home for dinner,no matter what kind of blood-soaked business his family left behind. He’ll slide into bed next to me, ask about my day, and listen.