Page 5 of Pregnant Prisoner By the Bratva (Tarasov Bratva #12)

Everything happened so fast, and just like that, I was here—on a date with the strange man from the other night.

It was probably not a good idea, considering the bad aura my senses had picked up from him the very moment we met.

Yet, I couldn’t resist—kept telling myself that it was just a harmless date.

What could possibly go wrong? Right?

For a mysterious stranger, Yulian’s presence sure offered some sort of peace and comfort that I never thought possible. I felt safe around him—secure and maybe even…happy.

Strange.

The air was filled with the soft hum of conversation and the occasional clinking of glasses as the night unfolded.

Away from the crowd, suited men and women in elegant dresses, we sat, tucked into the far corner of the rooftop lounge.

Low amber lights hung from the wire fixtures above, casting warm, golden halos over our meal and drinks.

He looked exceptionally handsome this evening, the unique scent of his cologne adding to his overall sophistication.

His ash-blond hair was styled to perfection, his impeccably tailored black suit gleaming in the soft light.

The fabric’s warm sheen made him look even sharper than before—dangerous in a quiet, clean way.

His blue eyes weren’t as cold as the last time; they were warmer tonight, crinkling at the corners every now and then. He sprawled in his chair, his intense stare piercing through me like he was studying me, trying to figure out what was underneath the surface.

He wasn’t looking. He was watching. And as unnerving as it was, it was just as exciting at the same time.

In the background, the music was low, some kind of lazy jazz that melted into the air like smoke, toiling with the butterflies in my belly. Behind him, the skyline stretched, a jagged row of steel and glass softened by distance and night.

Above, the moon was at its peak, white, sharp enough to cut, its ethereal glow cast over the concrete cityscape. The stars scattered faintly across the celestial canvas, twinkling like diamonds while a breeze moved through, cool and gentle.

“If this is a staring contest, I can assure you that you’re definitely gonna lose,” Yulian said, his voice husky and smooth, lips curling into a sexy grin.

“Really?” I pulled my cropped leather jacket tighter around me and leaned forward. “What makes you so sure?”

“Let’s just say I’m a man of few words with a knack for staring at beautiful things,” he replied, lifting his glass to take a sip.

My eyes dropped to the table between us, lips pursed to suppress my smile. His words had somehow melted my reserve, making my cheeks flush. “Some people might find that creepy,” I said, meeting his gaze again, my expression soft and inviting.

“Which one exactly, the truth or the action?” he asked, those blue eyes snagging on mine like a trap.

“Both, maybe.” I reached for my glass, gently tapping my manicured nail against it.

He edged closer, just enough for me to catch the twitch of amusement at the corners of his lips. “I’ll try not to be both at the same time then.”

I smiled into my drink, raised my glass, and took a sip. A little while later, we eased into a small silence—nothing awkward, just the kind that let you breathe for a second without needing to fill the space.

He tilted his head, as if toward the background music. “Is that Sinatra?”

I listened to the beat, eyes narrowing. “Sounds like it.”

“Hmm. I prefer jazz that sounds like it could start a fight,” he said, his tone mild and casual.

My lips twisted into a sly grin. “Somehow, I don’t doubt that.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, you have the look,” I answered, “rugged…dangerous.” The slight pause came when I lifted my eyes to meet his.

His gaze hooked on mine, and he didn’t bother denying it; instead, he just asked, “And that doesn’t scare you?”

I hesitated for a bit. “Should it?”

Yulian scoffed, elbows on the table, eyes never leaving mine. “You’re different, Ester,” he began, his voice gentle like the breeze. “And I’m not saying this to flatter you.”

Too late. Already did.

I could only hope he didn’t catch the faint hue on my cheeks.

He continued, “There’s something…mysterious about you that I haven’t quite wrapped my finger around. Not yet, anyway.”

“That’s ironic coming from a man who tricked me into telling my full name but still won’t reveal his last name,” I said, reclining into my chair, watching him closely.

He went silent, his faint smirk retained. “Fair enough.”

“I guess we’re both more mysterious than we thought,” I said, holding his gaze.

“I guess so,” he murmured, adjusting his jacket.

“I gotta ask though.” I leaned forward, elbow on the table, a palm under my chin. “What do you do for a living?” My eyes narrowed playfully, my expression soft and polite. “You owe me,” I added almost immediately before he could even speak.

He raised his brows, a glint of surprise flickering in his eyes.

“The last time we talked, you said if I agreed to go out with you, you just might tell me what you do,” I explained, not missing the way his eyes crinkled at the corners.

“I did, didn’t I?” he teased, refilling his glass.

“I got you now.” A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. “So don’t bother trying to deflect because here I am, eating overpriced tapas with you under the cold and distant stars.”

He laughed lightly, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “If I recall correctly, I did say that I just might tell you all about it. Emphasis on might .” He leaned back in his chair, that crooked grin flashing.

I raised my brows. “You really wanna play that card?” My expression darkened by a fraction.

“And risk losing my head?” he teased, chuckling. “Not a chance.”

And with that, I let out a soft, mirthful sound.

“I’m in logistics,” he said quietly.

I blinked. “Logistics?”

“Yeah. I move stuff around. Sometimes people.”

“Like a travel agent?” I asked.

“More like…uhh…solving a puzzle.” Then came that signature smirk of his.

I paused, watching him closely. “Well, that’s not vague at all. For all I know, you could be a criminal or an Uber driver.”

Yulian laughed, his eyes crinkling again. “You’d be surprised just how close those two professions are.”

I leaned back in my chair, my eyes still snagged on his. He was holding back—I could tell. Logistics? Please. But then again, I wasn’t going to pry because it wasn’t like I was an open book myself.

Clearly, we were two people attracted to each other but unwilling to open up. It was too early anyway. Besides, it was just a date. Nothing more.

As the night unfolded, we talked more about random stuff and less about our private lives. Just shallow details to mask the sexual tension hovering around us. It was a lovely night, and I honestly had a swell time.

We ate. Laughed. Drank.

He didn’t strike me as the fun type at first, but tonight, he proved he wasn’t as boring and grumpy as I thought.

Later, he walked me back to my place, our footsteps clicking against the pavement. The streets were quiet at this time of night, the lamps casting long shadows along the sidewalks. In the distance, a dog barked incessantly, the gentle breeze dancing through the empty avenue.

Bathed in the moon’s silver glow, we walked side by side, our pace slow, unhurried, like neither of us wanted the night to end. We didn’t say much, just moved with the flow, our arms brushing now and then.

I felt safe with him around—not that anything or anyone in these streets could ever spook me.

When we reached my building, I stopped at the steps. And it wasn’t until now that I realized we’d been holding hands this entire time. I pushed my hair behind my ear, my head jerking to look at him. “This was nice.” I wasn’t sure why the words came out more like a secret than a statement.

His lips curled into a soft grin, hands buried in the pockets of his trench coat.

“It was,” he replied, his voice low and husky, eyes locked to mine.

I sensed his hesitation; he wasn’t ready to leave just yet. The tension returned, now even stronger than before, and I could feel my pulse quickening. Neither of us looked away, our expressions softening by the minute.

For a moment there, I really thought he was going to kiss me. And honestly, a part of me wanted him to. His eyes were dark with longing, and the desire etched on his face couldn’t be any more obvious.

Let him in , a voice whispered in my head, ignoring the part of my brain that knew how wrong this was. He was a complete stranger, and a dangerous one. As such, I shouldn’t even be considering letting him into my home.

If he was as terrible as I thought, why did I feel so safe around him, and why did every fiber of my being crave him?

“So, this is it, yeah?” He broke that deafening silence, his voice smooth and charming. “This is goodbye?”

I blinked, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn’t want it to be like this—at least, not now. But the fight inside me was real. One part of me wanted him so badly, while the other was completely against the idea. I was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, unsure of what to do next.

Yulian was mostly unreadable. But for some reason, he struck me as a man who was here on business and would leave soon. Maybe that was why he asked if this was goodbye.

If he were from around here, goodnight would’ve made more sense. It would have implied that we’d run into each other again. However, seeing how deliberate he was about everything, it was safe to say his choice of vocabulary wasn’t a mistake. The man knew exactly what he meant.

This might be his last night here. At least, that was the impression he gave.

Don’t. Don’t do it , the other voice warned against the words about to jump out of my mouth.

I had only one shot at this—to act on impulse, to be reckless with my feelings for once. I’d closed myself off for a long time, built a wall around my emotions, and tried to stay as detached from people as I could.