Page 11 of Claimed By the Pakhan

“You’re pregnant,” I remind her, looking pointedly at her swollen belly.

“Right.” She purses her lips, smoothing a hand over her belly, which is peeking out from under the shirt the hospital lent her. Her clothes were torn from the accident.

The clothes she’s wearing now are plain, a few sizes big, but she still looks magnificent. She can wear anything and still capture my unwavering attention.

I prefer it when she’s walking around my place stark naked, her swollen breasts bouncing with each step she takes. Such a fucking cock tease. Seeing her blonde hair tumble effortlessly over her shoulders makes me want to wrap the tresses around my finger, pull her close and fuck her.

But since I can’t do that, I lose myself in her steel gray eyes instead. Sun streams in through the window, turning her eyes silver. They dazzle brighter than the ring I forced on her finger last year when I married her. Being her husband was the only way I could ensure her safety.

The front door creaks, notifying me someone’s here.

I head down the corridor, seeing Luka step in, who invites himself into my house like he owns half of it.

“You got here fast.”

“I came to check on the patient.”

“Fia is not a?—”

“Fia!” says Luka, walking across the kitchen to bring my wife into a hug. “What a fucking relief.”

Fia sets the glass down on the island, looking Luka up and down. “And who might you be? Emil’s partner in crime?”

“Incredible. You’re already starting to remember.”

I flash Luka a glare, subtly shaking my head at him.

Luka frowns, turning back to Fia and offering her a smile. “I know the terrifying suits and face say otherwise, but you’re in safe hands here with Emil.”

“Like he keeps saying,” drawls Fia, pinning me a look. “You’re lucky I have nowhere else to go.”

“Don’t fret,” says Luka, squeezing her hands. “Seattle is the last place you should be in right now. Noise pollution won’t jog your memory, but listening to birdsong all day might.” He keeps watching her. “Have faith that everything will work out.”

I grind my jaw, watching them interact.

The fear vanishes from Fia’s face as Luka gives her some reassurance. He’s the friendly face who put her at ease the first time I held Fia captive in my house, and now he’s winning her over a second time as she nods, listening to every word. Whether the topic is murder or amnesia, Luka always finds a way to mellow her out.

Jealousy writhes inside of me, and I hope I don’t fucking lose my wife to amnesiaandmy second in command.

Every man wants my wife, even if they show no signs of interest. Luka would romance her if given the opportunity, but he keeps his hands off. As my longest friend and closest Bratva ally, he knows where he stands, and so do my other two hundred men. I slammed a pair of severed testicles on the conference table last year, showing them what would happen if any of them tried pursuing her.

“Give it time,” says Luka. “I’m always here if you need anything.”

Fia’s face softens. She picks up the glass of water, taking more sips, instantly more at ease since Luka entered.

Son of a bitch, winning my wife over more than me.

But I know my Fia. She likes things to be a little rough around the edges and unconventional. And that’s not Luka.

She looks across the kitchen at me, her eyes like fire. She still can’t fucking help herself, her cheeks blushed red as she gulps the last of her water, swallowing harder than she needs to.

She’ll be swallowing my cum before she knows it, falling for me all over again. That’s the big difference between me and Luka. My friend might put her at ease, but can he make her scream like I do?

Absolutely not.

The intriguing look in her eye is familiar. I remember it well from when I first started stalking her three years ago. She used to catch me, her mouth saying one thing, her body language another.

Her own biology is screaming at her now as we lock eyes across the kitchen, her lips parted, sweat beading across her forehead as she sees something she likes…