Page 13 of Dark Desires (Chicago Bratva #1)

ALEXEI

T he words hit me like a physical blow, but not for the reason she probably thinks.

Pregnant.

That night—the night she disappeared despite my note begging her to stay—created a life.

I'd spent months wondering what I'd done wrong, why my plea wasn't enough to make her stay. Now I understand it was never about me not caring enough.

She was carrying this secret, this fear, and she chose to face it alone rather than trust what we had.

All I can do is stand there, processing. The woman I've been unable to forget, the woman who broke something in me when she disappeared, is carrying my child.

"You kept the note," I say quietly, remembering how she'd taken it with her.

Her eyes flash with pain. "Of course I kept it. I read it a hundred times, Alexei. You asked me not to disappear, and that's exactly what I did."

"Then why?" The question tears out of me. "Why did you leave? I came back with breakfast, ready to talk about whatever this was between us, and you were just... gone."

She wraps her arms around herself. "Because I was terrified. Because I knew my father would lose his mind. Because the alliance between our families?—"

"Fuck the alliance," I snap. "I would have figured it out. We could have figured it out together."

"How was I supposed to know that?" Her voice cracks. "I panicked, okay? I'd never felt anything like what I felt with you, and it scared me."

I step closer, my voice softening. "Is the baby okay? After everything that happened at the shootout?"

She pauses, her hand moving to her stomach. "Yeah. The doctor checked. The baby's fine."

The relief is intense. And it's all so strange. I've just learned about this child, and already I care about it more than anything else.

My mind churns, trying to process it all.

Oh, Domenico is going to flip out when he hears that the bastard Ivanov impregnated his precious daughter. And out of wedlock, too.

Something hits me. “I didn’t mean to… What I said about knowing for sure it was mine… I didn’t mean it like that.”

She finishes pulling on her jeans, zipping them up with a sharp tug, her movements stiff and defensive.

“Yeah, well, it sounded like you did.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just a lot.”

She laughs bitterly, shaking her head. “You think it’s not a lot for me, too? Do you think I wanted this? Wanted to stand here and have this conversation with you? You’re supposed to be marrying my cousin for fucks’ sake!”

“I just… I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything,” she snaps, grabbing her shoes and jamming her feet into them. “I didn’t tell you to get some kind of reaction. I told you because you deserve to know. Because you need to know.”

She’s right, of course, but it doesn’t make any of this easier to swallow. I watch as she grabs her bag, her movements quick.

“Isa, you don’t need to run.”

She freezes for a second, her back to me, before turning slowly. “I’m not running. I’m figuring out what to do next. You should do the same.”

I don’t have a response. I know I should. I’ve always taken pride in being able to handle any situation that life might throw at me.

However, at this moment, I’m speechless.

She turns back to me, her big brown eyes catching mine. There’s a flicker of something in them—worry, maybe even hope. She’s waiting for me to step up, to say something about the baby, about us, about anything .

But for the first time in my life, I’m unsure. Unsure of what to say, what to feel, what the hell even to do next. My mouth opens, and all I can manage is her name, weak and hollow.

“Isabella…”

It’s not enough. She shakes her head, the disappointment written all over her face. And then she’s gone without so much as a second glance, the door shutting behind her.

I stand there like a goddamn idiot, listening to the faint ding of the elevator in the distance. The doors open, then close, and she’s gone.

Just like that.

Snapping out of it, I grab my phone and dial the front desk. The concierge answers on the second ring. “Yes, Mr. Plushenko?”

“A woman’s going to be coming through the lobby. Her name is Isabella. Flag her down. Call her an Uber on me. I don’t want her walking around the city.”

The guy givesa quick acknowledgment before hanging up, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. It’s the least I can do after standing there like a mute fool while she poured her heart out.

I step out onto the balcony, the cool morning air hitting my skin. The city is waking up. Normally, I’d feel a sense of control looking out at it all. But today? Today, I feel like I’ve been knocked on my ass.

I rest my hands on the railing, my grip tightening as I replay the scene in my head. It was like a punch to the gut that I can’t shake. With horror, I realize that this conversation had been a test.

And I failed.

I failed her. I failed us . And I failed the tiny life growing inside her I’m suddenly responsible for.

I’m going to be a father. The thought feels foreign, unreal, like something happening to someone else. But it’s real. She’s pregnant, and the baby is mine. That much is clear. What isn’t clear is how the hell I’m going to navigate this mess I’ve created.

The city hums below and I stand there, letting the weight of this new reality settle over me. Whatever happens next, I’ll face it head-on.

For her. For the baby.

For a future I never knew I wanted so badly.