Page 38 of Sexting the Bratva Boss (Text to Touch)

Eva

We're safe.

That single thought crashed through the mental barriers I'd built up with every ounce of willpower I had left. The delayed terror hit me like a freight train. I started shivering uncontrollably, my teeth chattering so hard I couldn't make them stop.

"Eva?" Ruslan picked up on my reaction immediately.

He pulled the car over to a quiet side street, steadying it perfectly before reaching over to unbuckle both our seatbelts.

Before I knew it, he'd lifted me onto his lap, facing him, my legs straddling his thighs.

His arms wrapped around me like a fortress, and I breathed in his familiar scent—that crisp pine cologne mixed with gunpowder.

Somehow, even with that metallic edge, it made me feel safe.

"It's over now, it's all over," he murmured against my ear, over and over. "I'm here. You're safe."

His gentle reassurance broke down the last of my defenses. I buried my face in his chest and just lost it—ugly crying, the kind that comes from somewhere deep and raw. The nightmare we'd just escaped felt like it was still happening, making me sob so hard I could barely catch my breath.

Ruslan didn't try to shush me or tell me to calm down. He just held me, letting me fall apart, pressing soft kisses to my tears as they fell.

I don't know how long I cried, but eventually the storm passed. That's when a sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen like a knife.

I gasped, doubling over as cold sweat broke out across my skin.

"What's wrong?" Ruslan's voice was instantly alert, worried. "Where does it hurt?"

"My stomach," I managed to get out, gripping his arm. "It really hurts." It was this heavy, pulling sensation that made my blood run cold. I knew exactly what it might mean, and the thought terrified me.

No—please, no.

"What if something's wrong with the baby?" I asked, panic creeping into my voice.

"Nothing's wrong, Eva. We're going to the hospital right now." Ruslan carefully moved me to the back seat, then got behind the wheel faster than I'd ever seen him move. The engine roared to life.

The pain and fear made everything blur together until consciousness slipped away from me entirely.

The sharp smell of disinfectant was the first thing that hit me when I came to.

I opened my eyes slowly to find myself staring at a pristine white ceiling. Sitting up carefully, I realized I was in a spacious private room with an IV line taped to the back of my left hand.

The memory came rushing back, and my hand flew instinctively to my belly.

"You're awake?" Ruslan's voice came from the doorway.

I looked up to see him carrying what looked like breakfast. He was still wearing that same suit, but it was wrinkled now, no longer the sharp, pressed perfection he usually maintained. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and stubble darkened his jaw .

"The baby," I croaked, my voice rough and raw. "How's our baby?"

"He's fine, Eva." Ruslan crossed the room and took my hand in his. "The doctor said you had contractions from shock and stress. They ran all the tests—the baby's healthy, strong heartbeat. I heard it myself."

Relief flooded through me so powerfully I almost started crying again.

"But you need to stay in the hospital for a few days and get some real rest," he added.

I nodded, not trusting my voice just yet.

"You need to eat first," Ruslan said, settling into the chair beside my bed. He opened the paper bag he'd brought—oatmeal, two pieces of toast, and a little container of jam.

He popped the lid off the oatmeal.

"I can do it myself," I said, reaching for the bowl with my free hand.

"Don't even think about it." His tone left no room for argument. "You've got an IV in. I'm feeding you."

I stared at him in surprise as he scooped up some oatmeal, blew on it gently, then held the spoon to my lips.

"Open up," he said, like he was coaxing a stubborn child.

I obeyed, letting him feed me the warm oatmeal. It was pretty bland, but it settled into my stomach with a comforting warmth. He fed me spoonful by spoonful, focused and gentle, until the bowl was empty.

After I was done, Ruslan polished off the toast and cleaned up the breakfast containers. The room fell into a comfortable quiet, giving us both space to breathe and think. All those issues that had been buried under life-and-death urgency were surfacing again.

"I'm sorry," I said, breaking the silence. "I should have told you about the pregnancy."

Before he could respond, I kept going. "I found out about two months ago. I was going to tell you, but that night, when we watched the movie, I tried to feel you out about having kids. You seemed so resistant to the idea." My voice still carried the hurt from that night .

Ruslan looked at me with this complex expression—pain mixed with regret and something that looked like self-loathing.

"It was my fault," he said quietly. "I wasn't ready to be a father then.

You know how fucked up my family is, Eva.

My parents' marriage, the way they treated me—it really screwed with my head about marriage, family, and kids.

I was terrified I'd turn into my father, that I'd give our child the same miserable childhood I had.

I didn't want to ruin your life, too." When he finished this raw confession, his voice was actually shaking.

Seeing him look so vulnerable made my chest tight with emotion.

"Ruslan," I said softly, reaching up to touch his face. "You're not him. You'll never become your father."

My words seemed to give him strength. He took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of my bed.

"I'm not sure about that," he said with a bitter smile. "I've got his blood running through my veins. I can't be certain I won't inherit his cold, selfish genes. So I wasn't rejecting the idea of a child—I was rejecting the possibility of a child who'd be miserable because of me."

It all made sense now.

We'd both been trying to protect each other and our unborn child in our own ways, but our miscommunication had created the most painful misunderstanding possible.

I reached out with my free hand and gently cupped his cheek.

"What about you, Eva?" He looked up at me with an intense gaze. "After hearing me give such a shitty answer, why did you decide to keep the baby?"

I met his eyes steadily. "Because he's yours and mine, Ruslan. Because I love you."

Ruslan's eyes widened. Every expression on his face froze except for pure shock. He looked like he couldn't believe what he'd just heard, his lips parting but no sound coming out.

I didn't give him time to process—I laid my heart completely bare.

"I love you. Not because of your money or power, not because you gave me acting opportunities. I know you might not believe that, but Ruslan, I love just you. So when I found out I was pregnant, yes, I was scared, but mostly I was happy."

"This baby is the most beautiful accident of my life. I thought that even if you really didn't want him, even if we ended up apart, I was keeping him. I even considered disappearing to another city before you found out, raising him on my own."

"No." Ruslan leaned down and pulled me into his arms, his face buried in the curve of my neck. His voice was muffled but fierce. "You can never leave me. Not ever. I don't even want you thinking about it."

After a moment, he lifted his head and looked directly into my eyes.

"I believe that you love me, just like I love you." His deep gaze held mine. "I love you, Eva. I've loved you for a long time now."

He cupped my face and kissed me. His lips were soft and warm against mine, his tongue tangling with mine in a way that made my toes curl. When that long, sweet kiss finally ended, there was nothing left between us—no walls, no misunderstandings.

I hadn't realized we'd been in love with each other this whole time.

"Fuck, I'm such an asshole," he said suddenly, his voice thick with self-reproach. "I let you go through all that fear and uncertainty alone, carrying our child."

His hand moved to rest on my belly. Even through the thin hospital gown, I could feel the warmth of his palm.

"Eva, trust me," he said solemnly. "I promise you and our baby—I'm going to eliminate every single threat. I'll create the safest possible world for both of you."

I could see the steel determination in his eyes. I knew he wasn't making empty promises.

"I'll wait for you," I told him.

Just then, there was a gentle knock on the door.

"Come in," Ruslan called, his voice returning to its usual controlled tone.

A competent-looking middle-aged nurse wheeled in a small cart. She glanced at my nearly empty IV bag and smiled professionally.

"Good morning, Miss Stone. Your nutrients are almost finished, so I'm here to remove the IV and check your vitals," she said, efficiently tearing open an alcohol swab packet.

"Feeling better? Since you're able to eat normally now, you should try to get as much nutrition as possible from food—that's what's best for you and baby. "

"Much better, thank you," I nodded.

The nurse approached my bedside to remove the IV. I instinctively glanced at the needle, and even though it didn't hurt, the process always made me nervous. Ruslan caught my micro-expression immediately. He gently covered my eyes with his hand, blocking out what I didn't want to see.

I felt a slight tugging sensation on the back of my left hand, then a cotton swab pressed against my skin. The whole thing was over almost before I realized it had started.

"All done," Ruslan's low voice said in my ear as he moved his hand away.

The nurse pulled out various instruments and professionally took my measurements.

"Temperature, blood pressure, heart rate—everything looks great," she said, making notes on her chart.

"Miss Stone, the most important thing for you right now is rest, especially keeping your spirits up.

Emotional fluctuations in early pregnancy can really affect the fetus.

So try to think happy thoughts, listen to some relaxing music. "

I nodded seriously, while Ruslan beside me listened even more intently than I did.

The nurse obviously noticed his overly serious demeanor. As she put away her stethoscope, she couldn't help but smile. "Honestly, in our maternity ward, I rarely see expectant fathers who listen more carefully than the expectant mothers. You're a first for me."

My cheeks warmed, but I felt this weird surge of pride and sweetness.

Ruslan didn't respond to her teasing. He just continued in his serious, studious manner. "Is there anything else we should know?"

The nurse thought for a moment. "Our hospital offers free new parent classes every day at 4 PM in the health education room on the third floor.

They're led by our most experienced maternity ward supervisor and cover really practical stuff—pregnancy nutrition, birth preparation, newborn care.

If you have time, I highly recommend it. "

I saw Ruslan nod.

"Well then, please get some good rest. Ring if you need anything," the nurse said, quietly wheeling her cart out and thoughtfully closing the door behind her.

We were alone again.

I looked at his thoughtful expression and couldn't help laughing.

"What?" He looked at me quizzically.

"I'm laughing," I said with a grin, "because Mr. Yvannov, you looked nothing like a bratva boss just then. More like a good student preparing for finals."

My description caught him off guard, and he actually smiled.

"For you and our child," he leaned down and playfully bumped my nose with his, his voice completely serious, "I'm willing to learn everything from scratch. And I'm going to ace every test."

His words made my heart feel like it was bubbling over with sweetness.

"You're going to be a great dad," I said with feeling.

"I'll do my best," Ruslan replied, gently laying his head on my belly as if he were listening for the baby.