Page 11 of Forced & Pregnant Bratva Bride (Tarasov Bratva #13)

The Tarasov grand estate was dressed to impress—decorated appropriately for the occasion. Golden candlelight flickered on the crystal glassware, and shadows slithered across the marbled floors like whispers.

It was a small, invitation-only gathering—just close friends and immediate family. Nothing extravagant. Just a quiet celebration of our marriage. A few of the elders decided to stop by and celebrate with us.

Surprisingly, Hector showed up too—I thought by now he must have given up trying to ruin my name since he failed to vote me out. But for some reason, he was here, dining with the rest of the family.

The atmosphere was abuzz with the soft hum of conversations and the occasional clinking of cutlery. In the background, cool jazz wafted through the air, blending seamlessly with the sound of our voices.

One of my little cousins, Misha, cracked us up with some good jokes that filled the dining area with laughs and chuckles. Twelve-year-old Misha had somehow managed to steal the spotlight from the adults with his charisma and charms.

While the last joke was still settling and the laughter hadn’t faded, he leaned in, elbows on the table. “I’ve got another one, listen—” He cleared his throat, those sharp blue eyes shifting across our faces. “Why did the mobster bring a ladder to dinner?”

Silence, the air heavy with anticipation as his gaze swept across the room. A few brows lifted, glances exchanged, and someone chuckled under their breath.

And then, at the right time, Misha answered, “Because he heard the stakes were high.”

Laughter erupted around the table, and even elder Vladislav nearly choked on his wine. He slapped a hand on the table twice before pulling out a handkerchief to dab his eyes.

“C’mon, Cousin Egor. You gotta admit, that was funny,” Misha said, leaning back in his chair.

I reached for the glass of champagne in front of me and lifted it in a small gesture of respect. “That was a good one, cousin.”

Misha beamed with gleaming eyes.

I glanced at my watch, wondering what exactly was taking so long—Leona should be down by now. She’d been on my mind all day, and that was the reason I didn’t pay much attention to Misha’s jokes. I wanted to, but couldn’t. It’s been hard to focus on anything other than her.

Where the hell are you?

“Where’s your new bride, Egor?” Hector asked smoothly, his voice laced with hidden barbs.

He didn’t even look up—just sliced into his meat with practiced ease.

“Wow,” Misha said, looking in my direction as though something had caught his eye.

“Wow indeed,” Hector muttered calmly. “I mean, unless she’s under the weather or something, I assume she’s supposed to at least honor her guests, don’t you think?” Now, he raised his head and met my gaze.

“She’s beautiful,” Misha declared, his voice dripping with sheer admiration.

I followed his gaze across the room, and that’s when I saw her. My eyes narrowed in surprise, brows arched as I drank in the beauty I never took the time to notice.

She descended the stairs, her manicured fingers brushing the polished railing, her red hair styled in a perfect bun on top of her head. A few strands escaped, framing her face, a diamond jewel glinting around the soft slope of her neck.

The crimson slick dress she wore clung to her waist, then fell around her legs like liquid fire. The gown hugged her in all the right places, her green eyes catching the chandelier’s soft glow with every move.

A pair of black stilettos complemented her outfit, making her look inches taller. Her heels clicked against the floor as she approached the table with quiet confidence.

All eyes were on her—admiration and something darker flickering in the men’s gazes.

I wasn’t the jealous type. But for some reason, I didn’t appreciate the look in their eyes, and that made my blood boil. My jaw locked, brows knitting together—accenting the small frown on my face.

She was mine. And mine alone.

Leona reached the table and offered the most authentic smile she’d ever worn since she arrived at the mansion. “Good evening,” she said, her voice clear and steady. “Apologies for keeping you all waiting.”

“It was worth the wait, my dear,” one of my aunties replied, her lips curling into a charming smile.

Leona beamed, taking a seat beside me.

“You look gorgeous, ” Misha blurted out, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Whoa, easy there, Romeo,” Vladislav teased, ruffling the kid’s hair.

Leona smiled at the boy, and he ducked his head to hide his flushed cheeks.

Hector fell silent, the smugness wiped clean off his face.

He forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

He leaned back in his chair, cradling a glass of wine.

And with a voice low enough to be a whisper, but loud enough for the table to catch, he muttered in Russian, “So wild and difficult to handle. No wonder she’s late to the table. Foreign women—always a problem.”

My expression darkened, and just as I was about to respond, something unexpected happened that silenced everyone at the table.

Calm, fluent, and deliberate, my wife replied…in Russian. She said, “Mozhet byt’ problema ne v inostrankakh, a v muzhchinakh, kotorye ne mogut spravit’sya s nimi.”

Meaning, “Maybe the problem isn’t foreign women, but the men too weak to handle them.”

Instantly, the air turned cold, eyes wide with shock and surprise.

Hector froze, the glass halfway to his lips, his humiliation clear as crystal. He didn’t see that coming—no one did. And that’s why her comeback hit differently.

My brows arched—pride flickering in my gaze as I turned to her with a faint smirk playing on my lips.

But she didn’t stop there. No. Leona leaned back in her chair, met his gaze squarely, and added, “My kusayem, yesli nas draznit’.”

Meaning, “We bite when we’re provoked.”

At this point, I was blown away, and my mouth wouldn’t stop twisting at the corners.

Hector said nothing after that, but his face revealed a mix of anger and humiliation. He started it, and she ended it—I couldn’t be more proud of her.

And since when did she speak Russian?

It was like looking at a whole new person tonight—confident, bold, and audacious. Of course, she was all of those things before, but it was different tonight. A good difference. There was obviously a lot to be unraveled about this woman, and I couldn’t wait to do so.

“Sweetheart, you speak Russian?” my aunty asked her, her smile broadening.

“It’s a little bit rusty, but yes,” Leona answered, trying to sound modest.

“Nonsense,” Vladislav chipped in, beaming with pride. “There’s nothing rusty about how you roasted Hector.”

A scattered laugh rose from the crowd.

“No offence,” he added, shooting a quick glance at him.

Hector sipped his wine. “None taken,” he said, his voice as flat as the expression on his face.

“Where’d you learn to speak Russian, darling?” my aunt asked her, curiosity flickering in her gaze.

“My mother was Russian,” she answered.

Vladislav laughed lightly—the kind that said he was pleased by the news. “You crazy motherfucker,” he said to me, teasingly. “Why didn’t you tell us your bride was half Russian?”

Because I didn’t know—literally just found out too.

I lifted my glass and offered a smug grin. “Surprise,” I said smoothly, like I’d been sitting on the secret the whole time.

No one needed to know I was just as stunned as the rest of them.

“Welcome to the family, Leona.” He raised his glass, and the others did the same.

Throughout the rest of the evening, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

She blended with the rest of the family like she belonged, playing the part better than I’d expected.

Leona smiled more tonight than she ever had since arriving at the mansion.

Everyone was captivated by her—her charisma, her charms, and her beauty.

I’d been so caught up in work and getting the elders off my ass that I never stopped to see what a gorgeous woman she was.

But tonight, the veil over my eyes was lifted, and I saw her—I truly saw her.

She had the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen, and the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed left me mesmerized.

Her skin simmered under the chandelier’s warm glow, the gentle curve of her lips drawing my attention each time she smiled.

And she smiled one too many times this evening, thanks to Misha’s jokes. I felt my stone-cold heart melting by the hour, my perception of her gradually shifting.

Leona was becoming something I didn’t plan for—a wife that I now didn’t want to ever let go of.

However, regardless of how charming she was, I still felt the need to keep my guard up. Leona was clever. For all I knew, this was all just some elaborate show. She was acting as I told her to, but the problem was that she was doing it a little too well.

And that was rather suspicious.

Leona might be up to something.

Unfortunately for her, two could play that game.