Page 22 of Sold to the Bratva (Sinful Mafia Daddies #2)

KATYA

Seven months later

I stare into a narrow mirror, amazed by the sheer size of my belly.

I just had my thirty-six-week appointment, and the doctor says our baby is thriving.

It’s still hard to believe my body can grow another human.

I cup the top of my bump and study my reflection, as though I could will our little one to arrive today.

Evie lifts a tiny bear onesie and turns in a slow circle.

“Okay, this one or the one with the stars on the feet?”

I lean against a display shelf, one hand cradling my round stomach, the other fanning my flushed face.

“You’re cruel, making me choose between baby bear and cosmic cuteness.”

Evie grins and shrugs. “Then we get both,” she says, draping them over her arm. “They’re gender-neutral, so they’ll work whether you have a boy or a girl!”

“That’s how you end up with a closet full of baby clothes they’ll outgrow in a week,” I tease.

Truthfully, we’ve gotten so many clothes from Isaac’s soldiers’ wives and his extended family that our kid is probably dressed through kindergarten.

“It’s totally worth it to see your baby looking that stylish!” She sighs, still clutching both outfits. “Although I wish you’d have found out the sex so I can decide between tiny dresses and miniature suits.”

“Yeah, I’m sure all the other babies in the hospital will mock ours for wearing the wrong outfit home,” I joke.

We laugh, and for a moment everything feels light and simple.

With only a few weeks left before Baby Kozlov makes an entrance, I know these carefree afternoons are numbered.

My back aches constantly, and the baby has very strong opinions about when I should be awake, usually around three in the morning.

I crave bizarre food pairings that would otherwise make me gag.

In spite of all that, this pregnancy has been almost easy, and that ease terrifies me because I feel wholly unprepared for what comes next.

Evie catches my gaze. “You good?”

“Yeah.” I nod with a soft smile. “I’m just thinking about what it’ll be like when I’m a mom. This pregnancy has been so easy I almost feel lucky.”

She smirks. “Lucky, huh? Like when you decided to eat banana peppers in your ice cream?” she asks, wrinkling her nose.

I groan. “Don’t remind me. I still have heartburn from that night.” I shudder. “And poor Isaac thinks I’ve lost my mind. He caught me in the kitchen last week, trying to toast marshmallows on the stove at two a.m.”

Evie bursts out laughing. “Did he toast a marshmallow with you or offer to commit you?”

He never said a word. He simply poured me a glass of water and walked away as if he hadn’t seen a thing.

She laughs. “He’s a smart man.” She tilts her head. “How’s he handling everything?”

I rest a gentle hand on my belly as the baby kicks, and I smile. “He’s honestly amazing,” I admit. “When this started, I thought I was walking into a prison sentence, but he’s become the best husband I could have asked for.”

I think back over the past few months, cataloging the big and small moments that prove how much he cares. One afternoon I sat on the nursery floor, sobbing because I was terrified I’d choose the wrong wall color and our baby would hate us forever.

“Katya, we have enough money to repaint if our kid doesn’t like the color,” he’d said gently, as though my meltdown weren’t completely insane.

“I know,” I’d wept. “But what if there are psychological effects we don’t even understand until they’re adults and they resent us forever because I picked olive green for the nursery?”

He grabbed the paint samples, tore out every green swatch, and handed the rest back to me.

“There,” he said. “Green is out, and our child isn’t going to hate us.”

It was such a ridiculously sweet thing for him to do that I pinned him down and straddled him.

Then there was the day we were picking out car seats. When we got in the car to go to the baby store, he handed me a folder with several printed-out car seat ads he’d found online. Each page was annotated with his thoughts, and he’d highlighted safety specifications.

“I know you want to choose it together, so I wanted to give you my thoughts up front,” he’d said, all business.

“You are such a nerd!” I’d laughed, kissing his cheek.

Evie lays a gentle hand on my arm, drawing me back to the boutique. “I need you to stop having sex fantasies about Isaac while we’re talking,” she teases.

“I was not,” I grumble.

She shoots me a look that says she isn’t buying it.

“I wasn’t!” I defend. “I was just thinking about how sweet Isaac’s been these last few months.”

“Ugh, even worse!” she exclaims, pretending to gag. “You’re all lovey-dovey with your husband. It’s disgusting and personally offensive!”

“Somehow, I think you will survive,” I tease, rolling my eyes. “Did you think I got pregnant by not being lovey-dovey with my husband?”

She stops walking and pretends to puke in the middle of the store. “I don’t want to hear anything about how lovey or dovey you and Isaac are. I’ll never be able to look at him the same way!”

We linger in the aisles until our baskets are full and my ankles are swollen. At checkout, the baby kicks again, sharp and strong, and I suck in a startled breath.

“You okay?” Evie asks, concerned.

“Yeah,” I say, rubbing at my stomach and trying to catch my breath. “My baby is apparently trying out for the soccer team in there.”

She laughs and traces the air above my bump. “Or maybe you’ll be a prima ballerina in the Russian ballet,” she coos to my belly.

Ever since I started showing, Evie has loved talking to my unborn baby. She says it’s so she’ll be the favorite aunt when the baby arrives. Considering neither Isaac nor I have any siblings, she’ll actually be the only aunt, but her enthusiasm comforts me and reminds me I’ll have a support system.

After we pay and leave the boutique, Evie loops her arm through mine, our bags swaying and our hearts a little lighter. Spending time with my best friend feels good. Isaac must have known. Yesterday, after one of my more emotional nights, he called Evie and arranged today. It’s been perfect.

She casts me a sideways glance. “You’re glowing,” she says with a smile.

“That’s probably just sweat.” I laugh.

“No, seriously.” She levels me with a look. “You’re happier than I’ve ever seen you.”

I pause as we step up to the corner, waiting for the light to change.

It hits me how right she is. Despite the whirlwind of the past several months, I feel like I have everything I didn’t even know I wanted.

A few months ago, I was terrified of being married to some mafia brute.

But Isaac isn’t who I thought he was. He may actually be my soulmate, and I would have missed him if I’d kept digging my heels in.

“I am happy,” I admit. “I never thought I would be. Not with how this started. But Isaac makes it easy. He treats me like a queen.”

Evie nods thoughtfully as we cross the street. “And your dad? Has he come around since you told him you’re pregnant?”

A wave of nausea rolls through me, and it has nothing to do with pregnancy. Nothing explicitly bad has happened with my father, yet something between us has shifted these last few months.

“He’s been busy,” I say offhandedly.

I assume that’s true. We’ve barely spoken, so I can’t say for sure. He’s probably playing good little soldier for Oleg, doing whatever he asks. Since I stopped feeding him updates on Isaac, he’s stopped calling. If he won’t make an effort with me, I’m not making one with him.

I’ll be a mother soon enough. I don’t have the emotional bandwidth to get tangled in his bullshit. My baby and my husband come first, and I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect them.

“So he forced you into this marriage and then just forgot about you?” she asks, sarcasm dripping. “He really is a piece of work!”

My heart swells. She’s always been such a good friend, feeling upset on my behalf even when I couldn’t care less. When it comes to my father, it is what it is.

“I’m a married woman now,” I answer in an exaggeratedly haughty tone. “I am no longer my father’s property.”

She lets out a laugh so loud it’s practically a cackle, and the weight on my shoulders lifts, if only a fraction.

“Damn right,” she says, still laughing. “Now you’re your husband’s property.”

“It’s so wonderful being a woman,” I say. “All this autonomy and whatnot.”

We laugh as we walk, our steps syncing with the city’s rhythm. Still, a part of me aches when I think of my father, because Evie’s right. He did leave me out to dry. If Isaac weren’t such a good husband, I’d be much angrier. For now I want peace, and my father’s absence has given me plenty of it.

My phone buzzes in my purse. I pull it out and smile when Isaac’s name flashes across the screen.

“Hey, you,” I say, answering with a grin.

His voice is warm, deep. “How are my two favorite people doing?”

“Evie and I are great,” I tease, and I can almost hear him rolling his eyes. “We’re just finishing up. I think this baby has more clothes than I do.”

Isaac chuckles. “That’s a scary thought. Have you eaten today?”

“Yes, Commander Kozlov. Evie bought me a sandwich and a smoothie for lunch. She’d be happy to submit the receipt for reimbursement.”

“I would like that,” Evie yells loud enough for Isaac to hear.

He chuckles again. “I’ll stop nagging for now,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Are you headed home soon? I miss you.”

“I’m just about to meet the driver,” I tell him as we cross the street to the block where my car waits.

“Good. I’ll have Maude prepare something light for dinner. And when you get home, I want you off your feet.”

“You’re bossier than usual today.”

He sighs. “And you’re eight-and-a-half months pregnant. Pardon me for wanting to make sure you take care of yourself.”

Warmth tightens my chest. “I’ll allow it, but I really need to speak to your supervisor about this.”

“You’re my supervisor,” he teases.

After a few more sweet nothings, we hang up, and I slip the phone into my purse. Evie smirks at me.

“What?”

“You’re disgustingly adorable.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The driver helps us load the bags into the trunk, and the two of us part ways. As he eases into traffic, I can’t help wondering how I got so lucky.