Page 65 of Bride of Vengeance

"She'll probably throw one at you when she finds out you're Bratva."

"Former Bratva."

"That distinction won't matter to her either."

He stretches out beside me, propped on one elbow. "Tell me about her."

"Why?"

"She's going to be my child's grandmother. I should know her."

My child.The possessiveness should annoy me. Instead, it makes something tender unfold in my chest.

"She came here when she was twenty. Pregnant with me, alone, speaking barely any English. My father had just been killed in a gang dispute—wrong place, wrong time. She could have given up, gone back to Mexico. Instead, she worked three jobs to keep us afloat."

"Strong women raise strong daughters."

"She's going to want to meet you."

"I'd be honored."

"Even if she throws something at you?"

"Especially then. I respect a woman who protects what's hers."

"Like you?"

"Exactly like me." His hand moves to my stomach, resting there gently. "How are you feeling? Any morning sickness?"

"I don't even feel pregnant yet."

He gets up. "Stay here. I'll make breakfast."

"I can make my own breakfast—"

"You need protein and prenatal vitamins. I’ll have them delivered as soon as possible."

"You—!"

"Our baby is growing. You need them." He's already heading to the kitchen. "Don't move."

I touch the bite mark on my neck, and heat spirals through me at the memory of last night—his hands holding me in place, making me watch in the mirror as he claimed me. The way he demanded I say I was his. The way my body responded like it was made for him.

Stop it. Getting aroused by caveman behavior is not helpful.

But my fingers keep tracing the mark, and my thighs clench involuntarily.

Twenty minutes later, he returns with a tray—scrambled eggs, whole grain toast, fresh fruit, orange juice, and a handful of vitamins.

"I'm not an invalid," I protest.

"You're carrying my child. That makes you precious cargo." He sets the tray on my lap, then sits beside me to make sure I eat.

"This is ridiculous."

"This is necessary. Eat."

I manage three bites before my phone buzzes. Harrison's name appears in a news alert—he's holding a press conference about the "dangerous fugitives" threatening national security.