Page 24 of The Bratva’s Stalked Pregnant Bride

Was I really going to agree to this?

Chapter 14 - Mikhail

It was already all set up, with my people waiting for the final word from me to make this happen. Laurel might have still been in shock, thinking I was joking, pausing for a long time between her answers, as if she was getting lost in thought or memories.

I hated to think she was reliving the attack, or worse, but I was fine with taking advantage of it if it kept her out of harm’s way. Or kept her from causing my family any more trouble. Either way, she was coming home with me.

As of now, there was nothing more than a few tenuous connections to link Laurel’s ex to anything that was going on here in LA, but I wasn’t about to count anything out. That had gotten my family and me in trouble too often before. The moment you didn’t think someone was dangerous to you, they struck.

I didn’t believe Laurel was a danger to me or mine. Not yet. But she was in danger herself. That was clear. Whether this was just a guy who couldn’t take no for an answer or Laurel knew more than she should about his operation remained to be seen.

As long as she was safe, I could be patient in finding out.

I explained to her the situation with my father, which wasn’t strictly true, at least where I was concerned. He’d never dare interfere with any of my relationships, and up until recently, he would have been a hypocrite to try. My brothers might have been following in his formerly reckless footsteps, but I’d never been that interested in a string of meaningless flings.

As for our father insisting on having the final word on who my sister married, the jury was out on how serious he was about that. He doted on Sofiya, the youngest of us, and if my brothers and I were honest with ourselves, we wouldn’t have minded making sure she ended up with someone we approved of. I laid it on extra thick, leaning into Laurel, believing everyone in Russia was still overly conservative and patriarchal.

“You’re really not joking around because you feel sorry for me or something?” she asked after I explained how she’d be helping me out.

I sighed. “Why would I feel sorry for you? Did that asshole hire a skywriter to explain he was an asshole before you got with him?”

My fists clenched thinking about her being with anyone other than me, let alone someone who treated her badly.

“No,” she said. “You know how it is. I made a mistake, and then it was too late. I’m sorry I lied about not working at Canyon Vines.”

“That’s not an issue right now. Or at all.”

“Yes,” she blurted.

For a moment, I thought she was arguing with me, because that was our modus operandi about most things, but when her cheeks flamed bright red, I realized she was accepting my proposal. Such as it was.

“Good. Wait here. Do you want flowers?”

“What? Sure, I guess. Uh, when do you want to—”

“Wait here.”

Within twenty minutes, the priest I had on standby arrived, a longtime friend of my cousins and someone who appreciated a hefty donation for such services. He had his assistant in tow to serve as a witness, and she had hastily acquired a bouquet of red roses. I hurried them through the construction zone to my office, where Laurel sat staring blindly at her hands.

She looked up, her eyes widening as she saw the priest in his garb. She accepted the flowers on autopilot and stood where the priest told her to stand. I stood next to her and turned to face her. I wore one of my everyday suits, and I hastily tightened up my tie.

She glanced down at her plain blue blouse and black trousers, and wrinkled up her nose. This wasn’t how she imagined things.

“You’re gorgeous,” I whispered.

A slight smile curled her lips, and she locked eyes with me. “You weren’t joking,” she whispered back.

Not even a little bit.

It was all over in a few minutes, and after our signatures and the assistant’s promise to clear everything with the courts, they left us. Laurel stood exactly where she’d been instructed and stared at the door as it swung closed behind them.

“I had no idea you were that powerful,” she said, somewhat swaying on her feet.

I took her by the shoulders to steady her. “Not even close,” I said with a smile, leaning in. It wasn’t fear in her eyes right before she closed them. I kissed her, wanting to linger, but pulled away as her hands rose to rest lightly on my chest. “Just to seal the deal,” I said, stepping back.

Did she look disappointed? I hoped so. “Yeah, Father Whats-his-name didn’t tell us to do that.”

“Father Sokolov, he’s Russian Orthodox. He probably just forgot.”