Page 41 of Cruel Bratva King

Nature was breathtaking tonight, but it didn’t hold a star to Sergey. The sparkle in his eyes shined brighter than everything else. For the first time, I felt like I’d really seen him for who he was. Not a monster or man feared by many for his brutality. Just him, Sergey Vadim. A human like everyone else. One that had to carry a burden too heavy for anyone else from the moment he was born.

He was scarred, bruised and needed as much love and healing as anyone else.

I’d seen the fear in his eyes when he carried me to the hospital. I’d seen his genuine concern that couldn’t be faked. I’d been a fool listening to Giulia and letting her mess with my mind.

Sergey may not have been in love with me, but he cared in his own twisted way, and that was enough. That was all me and my baby needed. He probably wasn’t the best person, but I was certain he would be a good father to our child.

The problem was that I didn’t want my child to grow up in this dark world. I didn’t want a part of this world. It was gloomy and terrifying knowing there were enemies lurking around the corner like monsters under my bed and that they could get to me or my child at any time.

I had no idea how to feel. On the one hand, I was attracted to Sergey in an unreasonable and unhealthy way. On the other hand, my instincts were screaming at me to run as far away from him as possible.

My stomach rumbled loudly, and a laugh broke from Sergey’s chest. “I should make something for you to eat.” He stood up and stretched his hand to me. “Let’s go inside.”

I took his hand, and we went inside and into the kitchen. Sergey made us dinner—a Russian delicacy of roasted beef, served with sweet potatoes and carrots. I’d never had a combo like this before, but it smelt so good it made my mouth water, and it was almost too pretty to be eaten.

A smile lifted the corner of my lips. Who would believe a man like Sergey, brutal and cruel to the core, could make something this beautiful? If I didn’t know him well enough, I’d have assumed he made the food with love.

“You don’t like it?”

I lifted my eyes to Sergey. I wasn’t sure, but he seemed to have been watching me for a while. “I feel guilty. Something this pretty shouldn’t be food.” I huffed, remembering I couldn’t take pictures to post on my Instagram.

“Eat. It will get cold otherwise.”

I huffed again before I picked up my spoon and dug into my food. I took a spoonful to my mouth, and chewing it, I moaned from how delicious it tasted. I gobbled another spoonful, then closed my eyes so I could savor every taste.

God. I hadn’t eaten anything so flavorsome in so long. Opening my eyes, I gave Sergey a thumbs up. “This is so good. Where did you learn to make food like this?” With his upbringing, I imagined he spent more time torturing his enemies than he did learning how to cook.

He shrugged. “I didn’t.”

I narrowed my eyes on him. “That can’t be true.”

“It is.” He dabbed his lips with a napkin. “I didn’t intend to, but I picked the skill up after watching my mother cook a few times.”

“That’s interesting. I watched my mother cook a million times and I can’t cook to save my life. Is there anything you can’t do?” I winked at him then continued shoving food down my face until my plate was empty.

After dinner, Sergey did the dishes while I took a long shower and went outside. My head was pounding with millions of tangled thoughts, and I needed a breath of fresh air.

Whenever my parents fought when I was little, my mother would yell at me to run away and hide. I obliged sometimes, but more often than not, I froze. My legs would go limb, refusing to carry me to safety. I stayed and watched them, biting my nails to keep my anxiety in check. I was a mother now, and I simply couldn’t resort to hiding or running away. I needed to think.

“Moy tsvetok.”

I was startled by the sound of Sergey’s voice. He walked over and sat beside me. “You should be resting,” he said.

Sergey had the soft fragrance of the chamomile shampoo he used. His hair glinted with the reflection from the moon. He hadn’t dried it, so it was even more curly than it usually was.

“I can’t rest when I have so much to think of.”

“Don’t think of anything,moy tsvetok.” He cupped my face, and his touch simmered into my stomach, sinking deep and causing my heart to flutter in ways I didn’t like. “I will do all the thinking and taking care of things that need to be done.”

His jaw twitched, his dark eyes monstrously red. The veins in his arms shuddered and bulged; he looked like he was barely holding in a fit of anger. I knew why, and I understood him too. I wanted to hurt Giulia for causing distress to me and my baby.

I nodded. “I trust you will.”

To men like Sergey, thinking meant ways to kill, and taking care of meant actually killing. As much as I hated Giulia, I didn’t want her dead, but I wasn’t in the mood to argue about her either.

I wasn’t in the mood to talk about our problems either. “You know, it’s at times like this couples try to find out things about each other, but you know everything about me already.”

The side of his lips lifted. “Not everything,” he said. He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle. “There’s still a lot I want to know, like the times you’ve been at your happiest and your saddest as well.”