Page 4 of The Bratva’s Stalked Pregnant Bride

Of course, the restaurant manager wasn’t there that day, either, but I had other reasons for begging for them to leave my bar alone. All I could do was give a half shrug before he asked me to follow him to his office. Except it wasn’t really a question.

Once inside, it was a very different atmosphere than when either Nik or Emerson were sitting in there. He sat down and steepled his fingers against his chin, staring at me expectantly.

“I didn’t mean to give anyone directions that were beyond the bounds of my station,” I said, feeling sick.

He rolled his eyes. “But?” he prompted.

“But everything was set up in a very specific way.”

A way that made it easy for the bartenders to reach the wine cellar with minimal fuss, kept the wines at optimal temperatures as long as possible before serving, and was convenient for me since my office was right next to the cellar. I explained all of that and how the plans I helped with had already been approved.

“Yes, when my cousins were the owners,” he said. He kept looking at me, waiting.

“But?” I finally asked when the silence stretched too long.

“But now I’m the owner,” he said. “And everything is going to change.”

“But—” I started, heat flooding my cheeks when he shook his head.

“No, we’re done with that little game.”

He held his hand toward the door, dismissing me without saying another word. Nik already owned a very successful, high-end restaurant in Beverly Hills. he knew what he was doing. This guy ran a brewery in a totally different country. Not just a different style, but a different demographic. This place was destined for greatness, and I was going to be part of it.

Now I had no idea what I was a part of. Just when the ground was starting to feel sturdy under my feet again, everything was crumbling down again.

My cheeks flashed hot and cold at the same time at his dismissal, but all I could do was meekly nod and hurry out, furious and fearful, if I wanted to keep my job.

Now that I understood what kind of man I’d be working for, I wasn’t sure I did.

Chapter 2 - Mikhail

Was it yesterday or almost two months ago that I came to LA for my father’s wedding? It was hard to keep up. Everyone was there for that somewhat tumultuous but joyous occasion. Well, everyone except my stubborn twin brothers, Ilia and Oleg, but we were all used to them blowing us off to party or raise hell anywhere but at home.

My brother Lukyan, who was only a year and a half younger than me, decided it might be fun to stay in LA for a while after the wedding, instead of returning to Milan. After all, the war that had erupted between my powerful family here in the United States and the Japanese Yakuza was over, right?

For now, anyway, we were at peace, save for the usual scuffles even I experienced in my staid life as a brewer in Moscow. I jumped in when necessary, never letting anyone give any shit to my family, who were also a very high-profile crime family in Russia. But in general, I liked my quiet life of hops and grain, only breaking bones every once in a while.

My somewhat irresponsible father, who liked to bemoan the twins’ behavior as much as any of us, although we all knew exactly where they got it from, had gotten himself into a mess again, this time with a wife. Yes, he and Tati were already legally married by the time of the wedding, but my female cousins had this thing about filling a space with flowers and making everyone dance to a string quartet while a giant cake stood in the background.

Tati fit right in with our family, not too concerned with the way most of us made our vast fortunes, because she was raised in the Bratva. At first glance, she was the complete opposite of my father, and my sister Sofiya didn’t love the idea of him marrying someone her age, but seeing the old man so happy brought her around. That and the fact she was loving LA and decided staying was going to be more fun than pretending to reject our new step-mother.

So, yes, it was almost two months since the wedding, and I somehow found myself owning a mansion that rivaled all my cousins’ places in the hills. If that wasn’t enough, to top it off, I somehow got roped into buying out a restaurant because Nik and Emerson were having another kid.

I wasn’t sure I was qualified. Not something at that scale anyway, since Nik and a couple of my other cousins were well known in the world of fine dining. Running a brewery was a completely different thing. I had stayed out of the rat race, working hard to rise up to a level of success in Moscow. Having to prove myself all over again, to such harsh critics that inhabited this hyper-competitive city, as well as to live up to my cousins, was daunting.

But I was here now, getting accustomed to constant sunshine, and if it really didn’t make me happy, I could always turn it back over to them or sell it off once I got it open and off the ground.

The only way to deal with any lack of confidence was to fake it, and I went in with so much bluster that I almost knocked the newly constructed bar over before the construction team could get to putting it in its proper place.

If I were going to start a new venture, it had to be on my terms. This place was going to be mine, and I wasn’t vibing with the old-world decor or the traditional menu. We already had a stuffy, fine dining restaurant in the family. When I looked over the plans and pictures Nik showed me, I was grateful that not much had been done yet and that it wouldn’t be too difficult to start from scratch.

I was expecting pushback, maybe even a few hysterical fits from the diva chef that I was locked into paying an eye-watering amount due to the contract Nik signed with him to get him on board.

What I didn’t expect when I walked into the place was to get blown away by the sommelier. As everyone filed into the dining area from behind a wall I was planning on knocking down to make the space more open, she was the only one attempting to hide her absolute terror.

She wasn’t doing a good job of it, but it was cute that she tried. And she was an absolute goddess. Probably about a foot shorter than me, but with her chin in the air, she exuded the same confidence I was trying to put out there.

Not exactly real, but we both meant to make everyone around us believe it. There was an instant attraction that went way beyond wanting to tug her blonde hair out of its tie and watch it tumble over her lush breasts. The oversized top she wore couldn’t hide her curvy hips, either, and I quickly brought my eyes back up to pretend I was scowling at the ceiling.