Page 16 of Sold to the Bratva (Sinful Mafia Daddies #2)

ISAAC

“ I saac, Katya needs you!”

When the call comes in, my mind spins so fast I barely register Evie’s voice beneath the rush of panic. Her words are clipped, breathless, yet sharp enough to jolt every molecule in my body into motion.

Katya fainted in the street. She’s already on her way to the hospital. Those facts whip through my skull like rabid bats, slamming me from every direction.

I’m out the door before she finishes giving me the address.

My driver aims for our usual route into the city, but I bark at him to take every shortcut he knows.

I don’t care how many red lights we skim past or how many horns blare behind us.

Every second feels too long and too far from her.

My thoughts won’t slow down. I run through countless possibilities, none of them good.

Either someone attacked her, her own body betrayed her, or it’s cancer and she’s dying, or one of my enemies poisoned her.

No. I crush each thought before it can fully bloom. I refuse to entertain worst-case scenarios, not until I see her with my own eyes and know she’s okay. If something happens to her, I don’t even know what it would do to me.

She’s my wife, but she’s so much more than that. She’s become the only part of my life that makes sense. She’s fire, defiance, and too much heart, and I didn’t realize how badly I needed all of it until the moment it was threatened.

When we finally reach the hospital, I’m out of the car before it’s fully in park. Inside, the receptionist recognizes my name and waves me through, proof that Evie already added me to the visitor list. I’ll have to thank her later.

I find them in a private room at the end of the hall. The sight of Katya, upright in bed, talking, undeniably alive, floods me with relief so intense I might be the one to pass out next.

The knot in my chest unravels in one sharp breath. She sits with a thin blanket draped over her lap, while Evie perches on a nearby chair, her hand resting lightly on Katya’s wrist. They both look up the moment I step inside.

Katya’s eyes widen in surprise. “Isaac, what are you doing here?”

I cross the room in three strides, adrenaline still spiking through my bloodstream. She’s pale but alert, tired yet unmistakably present. I cup the side of her face, tilting her head enough to meet her gaze, check her pupils, reassure myself she isn’t broken.

“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice low and rough.

She nods slowly. “I’m fine.”

I finally exhale and look toward Evie. “Thank you for staying with her and for calling me.”

Evie stands, collecting her bag. “Of course. I figured you’d want to know.”

Katya looks from Evie to me, and I can practically feel the eye roll she’s holding back.

I know exactly what she’s thinking. She believes Evie overreacted by calling me.

She thinks I overreacted by racing here.

What she doesn’t understand is that no reaction is too big when it comes to her. She’s too important.

I nod to Evie. “I really appreciate it.”

She squeezes Katya’s hand. “I’ll give you two a minute.”

Then she slips out, leaving us alone in the sterile hush of the hospital room. I slide the chair Evie vacated closer to the bed and sit. My knuckles brush her knees under the blanket.

Katya watches me in silence.

“You scared the hell out of me,” I say.

She grimaces. “Sorry. That wasn’t exactly on my to-do list today. Honestly, I’m fine. You two are being dramatic.”

“What happened?” I ask, unable to take my eyes off of her.

“I don’t know,” she says calmly, shifting the blanket slightly. “We were shopping, and everything was normal until it wasn’t. One second I was laughing, and the next the sidewalk decided to tilt. Evie caught me before I hit the ground, thankfully.”

“Have they run any tests?” I ask, glancing around as if a doctor might materialize.

“They drew blood, checked my vitals, the usual stuff. The doctor hasn’t come back yet.” She pauses. “I feel fine now, really. I’m sure it was just low blood sugar or something.”

I reach out and take her hand. Her fingers curl around mine instinctively. We sit there for a moment, just breathing in sync, letting the room settle.

“Tell me something,” she says suddenly. “To distract me.”

“From what?”

“From the fact that I’m wearing a backless hospital gown and haven’t been given a real answer yet. I need my mind elsewhere.”

I huff a soft laugh and shift my weight. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything. Tell me what you were doing before Evie called.”

I hesitate.

The truth is, I walked out of a meeting with my inner circle the moment her name flashed on my phone. I didn’t explain. I didn’t apologize. I just stood up and left, letting them draw their own conclusions. But Katya doesn’t need that right now.

“I was working in my office,” I say. “Going over some reports. Coordinating logistics with Mikhail. He was giving me an update.”

Her fingers tighten slightly. “On that shipment you were telling me about?”

I nod, impressed she’d actually listened when I mentioned it.

“We still don’t have any leads on who was behind the hit. We’re tightening security, shifting drop locations, scrubbing our intel again, but nothing yet.”

She nods, understanding. She doesn’t press further. She knows what can be said and what can’t. The silence between us isn’t awkward. It’s familiar now. Safe.

“I don’t know how you do it,” she murmurs after a moment.

“Do what?”

“Sit with all of that weight. Be the one everyone looks to for answers.”

“It’s what I was raised to do.”

“Did you want it?”

I think about that for a long beat. “No.Not at first. I watched my father lead with an iron grip and saw what it did to him. How it made him cautious, paranoid, isolated. I didn’t want to become that.”

“And yet here you are.”

“Here I am,” I agree. “But I do it differently.”

She cocks her head. “How?”

I consider her question for a moment, trying to count the ways I run my business differently from my father’s.

“I think I’m kinder than he was, for one,” I say. “And I’ve tried to diversify our assets. I want some of our business to be legitimate.”

She nods, a thoughtful hum vibrating in her chest. “And you got married,” she adds, “so you aren’t as isolated.”

“I wanted to be, though,” I admit. “I always thought I’d stay single. It felt less complicated not to bring love into the equation.”

She reaches up with her free hand and touches my jaw, her fingertips grazing lightly across my skin like she’s memorizing the shape of me. Her eyes search mine, and for a moment, neither of us says a word.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” she says softly. “Stay single, that is.”

The air between us stills.

I wrap my hand around hers, anchoring us both. “Me too.”

We kiss softly, nothing more than the press of her lips against mine, but it still knocks the breath from my lungs. After everything that’s happened this afternoon, the moment grounds me, reminding me that she’s okay. It was a fainting spell, nothing more serious than that.

A moment later, the door opens.

“Mr. and Mrs. Kozlov?”

The doctor steps inside, calm, tablet in hand, smiling politely as though he hasn’t just interrupted the one thing holding me together. I straighten but keep Katya’s hand in mine. She doesn’t let go either.

The doctor glances between us.

“I’m happy to report everything looks stable. There’s nothing alarming in your vitals, Mrs. Kozlova, no evidence of anything serious.” He pauses, glances at his tablet again. “But there is something I need to bring to your attention.”

She tenses beside me. I feel the shift, the sharp inhale, fear sliding back beneath her skin. The doctor glances up again, his expression neutral, careful.

“It appears that you’re pregnant.”

The words echo in my head, muffled and distant, as if they were meant for someone else. Katya goes still. I feel the news slam into her, the weight of it. Her hand slackens in mine, her breath catches. She blinks slowly, as though her brain is working overtime just to keep up.

“I’m sorry, what?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper.

The doctor’s tone remains gentle. “You’re pregnant, Mrs. Kozlova. You’re in the very early stages, probably about three weeks along. You wouldn’t have even known without the bloodwork this early. That’s likely why you fainted today. It’s not uncommon in the first trimester.”

Katya still hasn’t moved. Neither have I.

Pregnant .

Of all the things I expected, this wasn’t one of them. Marriage was already a curveball I never saw coming, but a baby is something else entirely.

The doctor gives us a moment to let it settle before continuing.

“Your hormone levels look great and based on your current condition, I see no reason to keep you overnight. You’re free to go home, as long as you take it easy. Lots of water and make sure to eat well. Make an appointment for a follow-up with your OB in a few days.”

I nod on autopilot, and he leaves with a quiet assurance that someone will bring discharge paperwork soon. Then it’s just the two of us again. I shift in my seat, turning toward her, but she’s already looking at me. Eyes wide. Unblinking.

“I didn’t expect that,” she says slowly.

“Neither did I.”

She lets out a humorless laugh, more stunned than anything, utterly shell-shocked.

I reach for her again. She doesn’t pull away.

Her gaze drops to her lap, one hand drifting to her flat abdomen. There’s nothing to see yet, no change at all, but I know the moment it clicks. I see the realization bloom behind her eyes.

“Isaac,” she whispers.

I’m already moving, settling on the edge of the bed beside her, close and steady. My hand covers hers.

“I’m scared,” she says quietly.

“I know.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to be a mom. I don’t even know if I’m doing this whole wife thing right yet, and now there’s going to be a baby?”

“You’re not alone,” I say gently. “We’ll figure this out together.”

She looks up at me, and something so open in her expression makes my chest ache. As long as I’ve known her, she’s been strong, defiant, sharp, and unwilling to bend for anyone. But in this moment, she lets herself be uncertain. She lets me in.

“I never imagined this,” she says, her voice cracking. “I spent so long trying not to feel anything about this marriage, trying to survive it like it was a prison sentence. But now…” She trails off.

“Now it’s real,” I finish for her. “This is actually your life.”

Her breath shudders out of her. “And it feels so big,” she whispers.

“It is big.”

I pause, letting my thumb trace across her knuckles.

She swallows hard. “What if I’m not ready?”

“Then we’ll get ready together.”

“I don’t even know how to be soft,” she admits. “You know me, I fight everything. What if I don’t have the mothering instinct?”

I smile gently. “You don’t have to be soft. You just have to be yourself. That will be more than enough.”

She exhales slowly and leans into me. Her forehead rests against my shoulder, and I wrap an arm around her back, holding her close. We stay like that for a long time, not needing words.

I think of the kind of father I never had and the kind of home I never knew. The chaos, the silence, the constant pressure of legacy and loyalty. I don’t want that for her or for this child. Maybe I don’t know how to do it differently yet, but I want to learn.

I’ll learn for them. I have to.