Page 17 of Forced By the Obsessed Bratva (Yezhov Bratva #8)

Something was wrong. I’d felt it the second I opened my eyes this morning. The room tilted slightly, my stomach twisting into a slow, dazed knot. There was a throbbing at the back of my head, not hurting, merely heavy. A pressure that refused to fade, no matter how tightly I lay still.

I wriggled into position with my palms on the mattress and waited for the sensation to fade. It didn’t.

Instead, a wave of nausea washed over me. I pressed my hand against my chest, breathing slowly through my nose like I’d once read in some anxiety blog.

Nothing helped.

The garden. I needed to get some fresh air.

I draped a robe over my body and slipped outside, teeth gritting from the morning cold air.

The sky was gray, thick clouds moving slowly over trees that bordered the estate. I walked around the perimeter, running my fingers along the tops of hedges and controlling my breathing with the hope that it would make the nausea go away.

In. Out. In. Out.

Still there. The tightness in my chest and the headache in my head. The strange, jittery jolt in my stomach that I couldn’t place.

When I returned to my room, my feet were damp and my arms cold. But that nagging sensation hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had gotten even stronger.

Three weeks had passed since Matvey and I had sex for the first time. My period was a week late. My breasts were swollen and sore, and—

Fuck, was I…?

No, that wasn’t possible. We hadn’t used a condom, but I wasn’t in my fertility window when we did it.

Still, a small part of me knew I had to make sure that wasn’t the case.

I made my way to the drawer and pulled it open. Then I took out a pregnancy test strip that the older maid had brought in earlier today.

She didn’t say anything when she delivered it; she just tucked it in, looked at me as if she already knew, and then walked away.

I sat on the edge of the bed, turning the thin box over in my palm as if it would snap, then I got up and rushed to the bathroom.

The lights were on, and the cold from the tiles seeped into my feet as I walked in barefoot.

I followed the instructions on the pack and waited with my heart pounding against my ribs as if it wanted to rip out of my chest.

Those two minutes were longer than any in my life.

I couldn’t hear anything other than the thud of my pulse in my ears, loud and insistent, counting down to something I wasn’t prepared for.

I didn’t look at first. I couldn’t, but when I did, my eyes widened in horror at the two pink lines.

Positive.

The room spun around me.

My knees almost gave way. I grabbed the counter to steady myself, my fingers numb and frozen on the marble. My breathing was shallow and raspy. My chest shook with fear.

No.

No, no, no.

This wasn’t happening. Not now. Not like this.

I hadn’t prepared for it. I hadn’t even let myself fantasize about it, and worst of all…part of me had known.

I fell to the ground, knees bent around me, still clutching the test in my hand as if it were a weapon that had turned against me.

I didn’t hear the door open until it was too late, and Matvey appeared in the doorway. He was still. Deadly in a way that had nothing to do with firearms.

His eyes swept the room, swept the unmade bed, the robe on the ground, and me on the bathroom floor with trembling hands and a sick twist in my stomach. His gaze flicked to my hand, and I quickly hid the test strip between my fingers.

His brows narrowed when his eyes returned to my face. “You okay?”

His voice was deep and gravelly. But there was something else behind it, an edge I couldn’t pin down. Something restrained.

I nodded too hard, too quickly. “I’m fine. I have a headache. Nothing serious.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t step inside. He just watched me for a moment longer, like he didn’t believe a word I’d said.

But he didn’t press.

He just nodded. “Be ready tonight. We’re going to a family gathering. It’s Damian and Elena’s anniversary.”

My heart leaped at the mention of Elena’s name. I hadn’t seen her in a while. I wasn’t certain if she could offer me comfort or advice on how to go about this, but I felt relief at the thought of seeing her.

“Okay,” was all I could mutter.

“Okay,” he echoed. Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

And I was left there on cold tile, still holding the test, still trying to remember how to breathe.

***

The afternoon dragged like an old wound.

Each tick of the clock ached in my chest.

I couldn’t stay still, couldn’t lie down or breathe deep without that old squeezing creeping back—that slow, crawling pressure behind my ribs that could never be shaken by pacing or distraction.

I roamed the house the entire day, trying not to kill myself with worry over being pregnant. Eventually, I found myself at the library.

The peaceful silence pulled me in instantly. I ran my fingers over the shelves of hardcovers, immersing myself in the smell of old paper and cracked leather.

My hand lingered as it landed on a spine near the bottom of the shelf. A pale gray cover with gold print barely visible in the faint light.

Motherhood: The First Year.

Something hollow thudded inside me at the title.

I pulled it out and sat on the couch, folding my legs and leaning back as I flipped through the pages.

It was all diagrams on taking care of an infant. Instructions on softness and attachment, and how to know if your baby is latched correctly.

I stared at the pages, but the words didn’t make any sense to me. I’d never dreamed of becoming a mother, not so soon.

Motherhood.

The word sounded foreign, unreal. Like it could only be appropriately used for someone else.

Someone who hadn’t been pushed into matrimony.

Someone who didn’t sleep with a man who made his money through bloodshed and being a criminal.

I was already scared enough being Matvey’s wife; now I was going to be the mother of his child as well.

I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I should’ve been more careful.

My body didn’t change. My skin didn’t glow with that brilliant, holy magic I read most pregnant women experienced. I just felt…scared.

As if I were standing at a cliff edge with no going back.

My palm involuntarily dropped to my belly, and I found myself rubbing a hand over it. There was no bump yet, no sign of the life growing inside me.

But it was real. False positives weren’t possible.

My chest tightened again, and I blinked against the sting behind my eyes. Then I slammed the book shut and shoved it back onto the shelf.

It came down harder than I intended, the sound echoing in the room like a crack.

I breathed fast, trying to stop my racing heart, but it didn’t do much to make the fear and anxiety bubbling inside me go away.

Because no matter how many books I read, no matter how deep I got into other people’s words, there was nothing in this library to prepare me for this life.

For his child.

***

My reflection by nightfall looked nothing like me.

Golden silk wrapped around my frame, tailored to perfection in that subtle way Bratva wives were taught to dress.

My hair was styled into soft waves, giving me a refined look without being too flashy. My lips were painted in a pale wine shade. My eyes—tired, yet vacant.

The woman in the mirror was calm. Refined. Composed. But I was unraveling from the inside out.

I slowly changed my earrings, stalling. Staying hidden in the silence of the room, hoping it would ease the chaos in my mind.

It didn’t.

When I finally stepped outside, the air was colder than I’d expected.

Matvey was already waiting in the car, one arm draped over the backseat, a phone clutched in the other hand. He glanced up the moment I emerged, and his eyes traveled over me in a slow, deliberate sweep.

His lip flickered. “Not bad,” he murmured.

Resentment waltzed through me. Not bad? I was breaking apart inside, and all he could offer was a compliment that wasn’t any better than a shrug.

I inhaled deeply, forcing myself not to react. I just got in the passenger seat and shut the door.

The motor growled to life, and we rolled through the gates in silence.

I flattened my hand on my stomach once again, then clenched my fist in my lap.

***

The anniversary was held in one of the smaller Yezhov mansions, large enough for the front of a magazine, with enough gold trim and crystal chandeliers to make my eyes ache.

The atmosphere vibrated with laughter, the scent of expensive perfume, and soft violin music drifting from the far corner.

I smiled when I should, let familiar hands stroke my arms, and greeted whoever Matvey introduced me to.

But my head was a blur.

The air was too heavy, my skin too tight. I excused myself for a moment to use the restroom, and when I returned, I just blended in with the other guests until my eyes fell on Matvey.

He was across the room, crouched beside the bar. Not speaking to a guest, but to a child.

Damian and Elena’s son stood in front of him, holding a toy car in each hand, jabbering about something too quickly to follow.

And Matvey…Matvey was smiling.

Not the smirk he used when he wanted to make me angry. Not the cruel-edged smile that came before his threats.

This was softer.

Warmer.

He spoke to the boy, nodded once, then ruffled his hair in a gentle, intimate gesture. The kind you couldn’t fake.

It made something in my chest tighten unexpectedly. Tears sprang to my eyes, blurring my vision, and I peered up at the chandelier to keep it from falling.

But the image in front of me lingered in my mind.

Matvey with a child, smiling as if he weren’t made of stone and ice. Smiling as if he were more human than the monster I assumed he was.

And for the first time since I found out I was pregnant, a part of me wasn’t so negative about being pregnant with his child.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be terrible at all.

Perhaps this life, this marriage, this child growing inside me, wasn’t the prison I’d thought it was.

Inhaling once again, I lifted my chin and walked over to them.

Elena smiled brightly as she saw me coming from across the room.

I walked faster, running into her arms and hugging her tightly. “Elena.”

“Oh my God, Zoe.” She hugged me back, squeezing me between her arms. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” I pulled back and looked at her from head to toe. She was glowing. She’d changed so much over the years. “Happy anniversary.”

“Thank you, Zoe. I’m so happy to see you,” she said, taking my hand. “We’re more than friends now. We’re family. Isn’t that exciting?”

I nodded. “It is. Becoming a Yezhov isn’t that bad after all.”

“No, it isn’t. I’m sorry I missed your wedding. I needed to be at an event since Damien couldn’t miss the wedding.”

I smiled at her. “It’s fine.” I glanced over to Damien. “Hi.”

“Hello, how are you doing?”

“I’m okay.” My gaze flickered to Matvey for a minute. He was so engrossed in whatever discussion he was having with Elena’s son.

“How about we excuse ourselves, grab a drink, and have some girls’ time?” Elena asked. “Let’s leave the boys to their…thing.”

“Good idea. I need some fresh air anyway.”

Elena grabbed two glasses of champagne from a tray and handed one to me before we strolled out to the patio.

I didn’t drink mine; I just held it.

The evening had grown cooler now, shadows casting long over the garden below.

We leaned on a railing outside, both sighing at the same time before she sipped from her drink.

She smiled the moment her eyes met mine, and she regarded me for a moment. “You look wonderful. Exhausted—but wonderful.”

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.” She sipped her wine again. “How’s married life treating you?”

I smiled slightly. “It’s complicated.”

She nodded. “It always is.”

I hesitated for a bit, but there was no one else I could discuss things like this with now that Yulia was no longer here. “May I ask you something?”

She bobbed her head. “Certainly.”

“How did you fall in love with Damian?”

She blinked, then looked out over the garden. “Slowly. And then all at once.”

“That’s not going to help me,” I said with a tiny smile.

“It’s the truth. At first, I thought he was cold, dangerous, and arrogant. Then I started noticing the other things—the quiet things, the things he did when no one was watching.”

I looked down at my glass. “I think I’m drawn to Matvey.”

I’m pregnant too, but I didn’t add that. No one else could know until I told Matvey.

Elena didn’t respond right away, She thought for a moment. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“I didn’t want to be.” I sighed. “I wanted to hate him.”

“None of us do. But you’re already all the way in, aren’t you?”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “Yeah, we’re married already. I don’t have a choice anymore, do I?”

“Zoella,” she said softly. “You owe no one your heart. But if you do care about him, if you genuinely feel like he’s the one for you, don’t waste a second pretending like you don’t. The world we’re living in already takes enough from us.”

I stared up quietly at the crescent moon sitting alone in the sky. I had nothing to say or argue.

Because she was right.

If I cared for Matvey and he did the same for me, then maybe the life I wanted wasn’t so out of reach as I thought.