I don't know what Vladimir expects from me, all this is still foreign to me and him coming here and demanding for answers on something that i just found out about is foolish and to top it up him being a mob boss is not what i expected, i'm fucked i can already imagine how bad all this will go.

I sigh and shake my head in a mix of feelings, and not sure how I should react right now.

 "What do you want?" I look back up at him.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, why are you here? Usually, men like you agree or disagree with paying for a child, yes? Or tell me to get an abortion, it's up to you." I roll my eyes.

"One, roll pretty little eyes at me, very disrespectful. I do not like it when people are disrespectful.

Two, I am here because I plan to be in both your and your baby's lives." He said all of this with the same stone facial expression, it wasn't in a heartless way, but more of a blank look.

His eyes narrowed at me as I raised an eyebrow at him, "Who says I want you in my life? You can be part of baby life, but what makes you think I want you in mine?"

"You may not agree right now, but you are mine, Lyubov. Like it or not, you are mine," he declares.

Something about that sentence got me wet and horny, hearing him be all possessive and demanding, but that was the toxic person in me; she was rising, and I needed her to go back down.

Scoffing, I turned on my heel and walked back to my room, deliberately ignoring him. A soft thud

of footsteps behind me confirmed he was following. I try showing that I didn't give a fuck about

him right now, even though I secretly wanted him to fuck me right here and then. But I need to not think with my head because this person here, the father of my child, is a threat to my family, and it will be a bigger problem if he finds out who my father is.

Looking at my food, I dropped it carelessly after Vladimir's unwanted visit, and I picked it up. If I need strength to get the fuck out of this situation, then I need to eat.

"Why are you still here?" I ask to take a bite of my salad.

"I will be staying here for the time being. Start packing your belongings tomorrow. You come home with me next week." I glanced at him, then deliberately averted my gaze back to the TVs.

"Tomorrow I have work, meaning I'm doing shit you are telling me. I also have a business trip to prepare myself for with my boss, and I will be damned if you think I'm some puppy you can just tell what you want and it does it, the fuck not!" Audacity must be cheap these days, I would like to know where he purchases his, because what the actual hell!

Vladimir watched her defiance with an unreadable expression. His silence was more unsettling than any shout could have been. He walked over to the TV, and with a swift, almost casual movement, he unplugged it. The screen went black, plunging the room into a stark quiet.

"You will not go to work tomorrow," Vladimir stated, his voice low but resonant. "Your business trip has been canceled. Your only business now is with me and our child. You will pack your belongings, and you will come home with me next week. This is not a request, Lyubov. It is a

declaration. You understand?"

He stepped closer, his imposing presence filling the space between them. "I am not asking for your permission. I am informing you of what will happen. You carry my child. You are now under my protection, whether you believe you need it or not. And my protection comes with certain...

expectations. Disobeying me will have consequences you do not wish to face, for yourself or for those you care about."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "As for where I purchase my 'audacity,' it comes from a place where consequences are fast and absolute. You may think you are free to make your own choices, but that illusion ends now. You and the baby are in a dangerous position. The world I

live in is not for the faint of heart, and now, you are part of it. Your safety and the safety of our child depend on your cooperation."

He continued, his gaze unwavering. "I will be staying here until we return to Russia. Consider it a necessary measure to make sure you understand and you comply. I have business to attend to tomorrow, but I will return. You will be ready to begin packing."

With that, he turned and walked towards the door. The quiet click of the lock as he opened it seemed to echo in the room. He paused in the doorway, his silhouette framed against the hallway light. "I expect you to be ready. Do not test my patience."

He left, and the sound of the door closing behind him was a final, heavy punctuation mark. The sudden silence in the apartment was deafening, amplified by the black screen of the unplugged television. My salad sat forgotten, a single bite still on the fork. I stared at the empty doorway,

the weight of his words pressing down on me. A mob boss. My baby's father was a mob boss.

 And he was demanding that I uproot my entire life to go to Russia with him.

Tears pricked at her eyes, hot and insistent. I fought them, trying to swallow the sudden lump in my throat. This couldn't be happening. My life, my carefully constructed independence, was

crumbling around me. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push back the fear, the anger, the overwhelming sense of being trapped. I couldn't cry. I wouldn't. I had to be strong.

Just as I was battling the rising tide of emotion, the front door burst open. Caroline rushed in, her face pale, her eyes wide with alarm. "Oh my God! What's wrong? I just saw a really scary man leaving our Apartment! Are you okay? What happened?"

The dam broke. The carefully contained tears spilled over, tracing hot paths down her cheeks. I choked back a sob, unable to form words, and collapsed onto the couch, the full force of the terror and despair finally overwhelming me.

The world spun around as a wave of nausea hit. I scrambled to my feet, hand clapped over my mouth, and bolted for the bathroom. I barely made it to the toilet before I was violently ill, the retching mingling with the ragged sobs that tore from my throat.

Caroline was right behind her, a steady hand immediately gathering my hair away from her face. She rubbed soothing circles on my back, murmuring comforting words until the dry heaves subsided and only the shaky tremors remained.

When I finally pushed myself back, wiping my mouth with a tissue Caroline handed me, Caroline looked at her with a mix of concern and bewilderment. "Isa, what the hell is going on? You're never like this. You're always the strong one. What is it?"

My voice was a raw whisper. "I'm... I'm pregnant, Caro."

Caroline froze. Her usually animated face went blank, her eyes wide and unseeing for several long seconds. The silence in the small bathroom was heavy, broken only by my shaky breaths.

"Caro? Please, say something," I pleaded, my voice cracking.

Caroline blinked, shaking her head as if to clear it. "I'm just... shocked. That's all. Shocked." She paused, then her eyes sharpened. "Wait. Do you remember that family I told you my family hates? The ones I got pregnant for the head of the family."

"You got pregnant for the head of that family?!" Caroline exclaimed, her voice rising in disbelief.

"Isa, this is... this is a lot to digest. I need a drink."

Caroline walked briskly to the kitchen, her movements a little stiff with shock, and Isabella followed her, tears welling up again. As Caroline reached for a bottle, I started to cry properly, big, silent tears rolling down my face. Caroline turned, her expression softening, and pulled me into a tight embrace.

"He was the man you saw leaving," I mumbled into Caroline's shoulder. "He wants me to move to Russia, so that my life and our baby's life are in danger the longer we are away from him and his safety. There's nothing I can do."

Caroline held her for a moment longer, then pulled back, her hands on my shoulders. Her gaze was firm, a spark of her usual fire returning. "Wipe your fucking eyes, Isabella! My Isabella is not some crybaby. And that man... seriously, how did you fall for a face like that? He looks like he could strangle everyone in a five-mile radius!" Caroline tried, awkwardly, to lighten the mood.

A watery laugh escaped my lips, a small, fragile sound.

"Listen," Caroline continued, her voice now serious. "If what he told you is true, if he is who you say he is, then you go along with him for now. But first, you tell him exactly who you are. Let him know your true identity. See if he still cares about you and the baby then. And for God's sake, give him hell for being such a pushy man!"

I smiled, a genuine, albeit faint, smile. She hugged Caroline tightly. "Thank you, Caro."

Caroline hugged her back, then pulled away, a playful smirk on her face. "And by the way, with all this drama... was the sex that good, jeez? Why didn't you guys use protection? Not that I'm blaming you, but seriously!" A crazy laughter bubbled out from me, I love this girl, who always knows how to lighten my mood

I pulled her in for a hug, soaking in the warmth from her. I wonder how tomorrow with Vladimir will go.

.

The initial warmth was a deceptive comfort, quickly replaced by the jolt of full awareness. A heavy, unfamiliar weight pressed against me, and my eyes snapped open to the sight of a muscular arm draped across my waist. Vladimir. His presence in my bed was an immediate, jarring intrusion. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic rhythm that accelerated as a familiar wave of nausea surged through me.

I scrambled from the bed, my hand clamped over my mouth, barely reaching the bathroom before my body rebelled. Violent retches tore through me, mingling with ragged, involuntary sobs. A strong hand was instantly there, gathering my hair, while a thumb rubbed soothing circles on my lower back. I registered a low murmur of indistinct words, lost beneath the tumult of my distress. When the storm subsided, I rinsed my mouth and meticulously brushed my teeth, pointedly avoiding his gaze in the mirror. Anger simmered within me, fueled by his unannounced entry into my home, and a cold dread tightened its grip as I thought of Caroline.

Where was she? What had he done?

I reached for my phone on the nightstand. A message from Caroline appeared, offering a small reprieve: "Left early. Didn't want 'Mr. I ll-Kill-Everyone' to make me more scared than I already am. Good luck. See you at work." A small sigh of relief escaped me; at least she was safe.

I turned, encountering Vladimir's intense, almost dreamy gaze fixed on me. I attributed the unsettling feeling to the hormonal tide surging through my body.

"I can help you with your thoughts," 

Vladimir stated, his voice a low rumble.

"No, you can't. You don't even know what I'm thinking," I retorted, pushing past him.

"I know," he countered, his gaze unwavering. "Because of that look you give me."

Ignoring him, I moved to select an outfit for work, opting for a tailored navy blue pantsuit with a crisp white blouse. A shower became a necessary ritual, a means to cleanse away the lingering remnants of morning sickness and the disquiet his presence brought. I left him in the bedroom, needing a moment of solitude.

Refreshed, I emerged from the bathroom, drawn by the enticing aroma of food. Vladimir stood in the kitchen, casually preparing breakfast. He looked undeniably good – his strong, exposed chest visible above sweatpants that hung precariously low on his hips. I wryly noted that at least my child would inherit favorable genetics.

"Come," he instructed, gesturing to the table.

I took a seat, and he placed a plate of a perfectly cooked omelet and fresh fruit before me. "Why don't you pack? Where are you headed?" he asked, his gaze unwavering.

"I'll pack tomorrow. I'm going to work. I need to inform my boss I won't be available," I replied, taking a bite of the surprisingly delicious food.

"You email it," he stated.

"No," I insisted, shaking my head.

He moved to my side, his hand settling firmly on my waist. "If you go, you go with two of my trusted guards."

I hesitated, then conceded with a nod. "Fine."

He leaned down and kissed the top of my head, then walked into the living room, where I now noticed a tailored suit laid out on the couch. Minutes later, just as I finished eating, Vladimir emerged, impeccably dressed. He extended a hand towards me.

"Hold on, let me get my things," I said, quickly gathering my phone and a few essential items into my bag. Then, I took his hand, and we walked out, hand in hand.

As we stepped outside, two men stood by a sleek, black car. One was undeniably imposing and heavily built; the other appeared more approachable. Vladimir gestured towards them. "This is Alexie," he said, indicating the more intimidating figure. "And this is Ivan." He then turned to me. "They will ensure everything goes well when I am not around." He pulled me gently to face him. "I will come to see you. You eat and take care of yourself." He produced a card and offered it to me. "Get anything you want."

I attempted to decline, but he gently pressed it into my hand. "You hold it." He kissed my head once more, then walked towards the other black car. The vehicle was a high-end luxury sedan, its dark-tinted windows and polished exterior exuding an aura of expense and power.

The car's interior was a silent cocoon, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions churning inside me. I attempted conversation, primarily to break the oppressive quiet. "So... long day, huh?" I directed at the rearview mirror, hoping to catch Ivan's eye.

Ivan offered a short, clipped "Da," his gaze fixed on the road. Alexie, in the passenger seat, remained a block of stone, seemingly impervious to any attempts at interaction. I sighed, leaning back against the plush leather, realizing this ride would be a quiet one.

After a few minutes, we arrived. I stepped out, walking into the building with my two "bitches," as I'd decided to humorously refer to them. I entered the elevator, pressing the button for the top floor, where my office and Caroline's were located. 

Upon arrival, I walked straight to Caroline's office, swinging the door open. Caroline greeted me with wide, worried eyes. "Oh my God, you came! And with a personal security detail, I see," she whispered, glancing at Alexie and Ivan, who stood stiffly by the entrance to our office floor, radiated an air of unapproachability.

"Long story," I muttered, but couldn't help but crack a small smile. "And yes, they're forming hard heads. Ivan seems a little softer than Alexie, though."

We kept our voices low, sharing hushed jokes and worried glances about the new developments. Alexie remained a stone wall, but I caught Ivan almost smiling a few times during our conversation. It felt strangely normal, even with two imposing men guarding the door. After our brief exchange, I walked out of her office, heading to my own.

Hours later, while immersed in a report, the office door opened, and Vladimir walked in. I looked up, startled by the unexpected arrival. Vladimir scanned the room, his eyes landing on me.

"I thought you had quit," he said, his voice carrying clearly across the quiet office.

I sat up, trying to project an air of calm. "I just wanted to assist my sweet boss with something before my official departure."

Vladimir's jaw tightened. "Sweet boss?" he repeated, a hint of something cold in his tone. The jealousy was evident, and I couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

"Stand," he commanded. I noticed then that Alexie and Ivan were no longer by the door. They must have been instructed to wait outside. Vladimir walked over to my chair, and before I could react, he sat down and pulled me onto his lap.

I gasped, utterly shocked, yet his touch was surprisingly gentle, though firm. My face was close to his, and I found myself looking deep into his eyes – dark, intense, and surprisingly vulnerable at that moment. I found myself mirroring his gaze, lost in the depths of it. He leaned in, and his lips met mine. I accepted it instantly, a warmth spreading through me that caused a flush.

His kiss was deep and strong, a possessive claim that left me breathless when he finally pulled away.

"I want us to work," he said, his voice slightly rough with emotion. "You give me a chance. I have never been... a lover. But I want to learn. I want to be good to just you and baby."

I was dumbfounded for a few minutes, his words echoing in my mind. The vulnerability in his voice was unexpected. "Let's... let's start with a date," I finally managed to say.

A small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. "We will go on a date tomorrow. We leave in the next two days. Anything you want, I will do." He paused, his gaze hardening slightly. "You should not expect this treatment for everyone else. Not even your roomie."

I laughed, a genuine, joyfulsound, and leaned in to kiss him again. "I know," whispered against his lips.

The warmth of his body had long since faded, yet the memory lingered, a silent echo in the sheets, in the pervasive quiet. The bed beside me lay empty, the cotton cool beneath my fingertips, but his scent, dark, earthy, unmistakably masculine, still clung to the air. His gaze from the night before haunted me: possessive, unreadable, yet carrying a vulnerability that unsettled more than it comforted. Today, incredibly, marked our first official date. A surreal notion, considering he had already staked a claim on my future with the subtle force of an oncoming storm.

He departed soon after, leaving the day to stretch long in his absence. The silence felt unfamiliar, his presence having carved out more space in my world than I cared to

admit. I plunged into work, attempting to reclaim some semblance of control. But

beneath every action, the pulse of anticipation beat steady and strong.

I chose the forest green silk midi dress with careful deliberation. The fabric moved

like water as I slipped it on, flowing with every step, elegant, yet understated. A quiet rebellion. A reminder, perhaps, that I was still my person within the formidable force of nature that was Vladimir. My hair was pulled into a simple low ponytail, my makeup minimal, just enough to highlight what was already there. In the mirror, I still saw Isabella. But there was a new sharpness in her gaze. Not fear. Not submission. Something closer to defiance.

A soft knock broke the morning's stillness. I didn't need to guess who it was.

Vladimir stood in the doorway, dressed in his usual commanding black shirt and pants that emphasized his powerful build. His dark hair was pulled back into a neat bun, drawing attention to the sharp angles of his undeniably beautiful face. In that moment, his gaze held an intensity that both captivated and slightly intimidated me, a potent blend of control and something akin to anticipation that mirrored my own tumultuous emotions.

"You are ready?" he asked, his voice a low murmur that seemed to stroke my skin.

"As I'll ever be," I replied, the edge of sarcasm not lost on him.

He extended his hand. I hesitated, then took it. "Where are we going?" I inquired, but he merely brushed off the question, typical of Vladimir.

By nightfall, a sleek black car arrived. We drove in near silence, the city lights gradually giving way to open skies and winding roads. The further we traveled, the more the noise of my thoughts faded, replaced by the quiet hum of something larger, more profound.

The car came to a stop in a vast field. Before us stood a hot air balloon, its colossal, domed envelope glowing softly in the night. My breath hitched. It was a dream I'd never spoken aloud, not to him, at least.

"How... how did you know?" I asked, my voice laced with astonishment.

A small, smug smile curved his lips. "Caroline told me. In fear."

I barked a laugh, shaking my head. "I knew she would crack."

The balloon rose into the night sky with a gentle grace, the city melting into a glittering mosaic below. Up there, above the world, surrounded by silence and stars, the space between us subtly shifted. It felt safer to speak the truth in the air.

"My father..." I began softly, "he leads a syndicate. Not like yours, different operations, different principles. But powerful. Dangerous. And your family... they hate him. I think they hate all of them."

Vladimir turned to me, his expression unreadable, but I saw the flicker, the brief parting of the armor. "I was told he had no daughter," he said, quiet and clipped.

"He kept me out of that life," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "My mother left him years ago. I lived with her. I still see my brothers, but we're... distant."

He stepped closer, his hand settling on my waist, firm and grounding. "I do not care

about your family," he said, his voice low, absolute. "I hate your father. Your brothers.

But not you."

His words struck with unexpected force, brutal in their clarity, yet strangely comforting. He didn't flinch at the truth. He accepted it, claimed me anyway.

I leaned into him, the kiss that followed fueled by more than relief. There was hunger in it, a desperate need to close the space between us. The basket rocked slightly as we pressed together, the silk of my dress sliding beneath his touch, his hands moving with purpose and heat. His lips claimed mine again and again, devouring, coaxing. One hand slid down my spine, pausing at the curve of my hip before pulling me closer, until there was no air between us, only fire. The quiet roar of the burner above us echoed the pounding of my pulse.

His fingers found the hem of my dress, trailing upward with tantalizing slowness,

pushing boundaries I hadn't imagined crossing here, like this. My breath hitched as he grazed bare skin, a silent invitation written in touch. I responded in kind, my body arching, answering the call of his.

There was nowhere to hide in that basket, no walls, no curtains, only darkness, wind,

and the thrill of altitude. It made everything more raw. Every movement felt like

a confession. Every gasp, a surrender. He pressed me back against the wicker side, his mouth never leaving mine, his hand slipping beneath silk, claiming skin that burned under his touch. The sound that escaped me was involuntary, shamefully loud, but he only growled low in response, a dark, feral sound that thrilled and unnerved me in equal measure.

We didn't go further, not here. Not yet. But we went far enough to know we would. That we wouldn't stop next time. His control held, just barely, and mine unraveled in his hands.

When the balloon descended and we stepped back onto solid ground, I felt anything but grounded. The sky had changed something within me. The car ride back was quiet, but no longer awkward. His hand remained in mine. His gaze sought mine often. There was

comfort now. And tension, the kind that simmered just beneath the surface.

We arrived at my apartment. He came down and opened the door for me, and we

walked up to my flat and inside. Sitting on the couch in the living room after turning on the lights, the place seemed cold, as if Caroline had left a long time ago. I looked at him, this dangerous man who had turned my world upside down, and asked the question I'd been carrying all day.

"Why are you like this?" My voice was soft, unsure. But the question was real.

His entire demeanor shifted. The man who had flown me into the stars vanished,

replaced by someone colder. Harder.

"My father," he said. "He made me what I am."

I wanted to push, to know more. But the shutters had come down. His jaw clenched. His eyes, so often expressive in private moments, now revealed nothing. I recognized the boundary for what it was. I let the silence settle between us.

I stood up and walked to my bedroom, not having the strength to face the cold look he gave me. I preferred not to entertain it. I heard his footsteps following me, but I chose to ignore them, walking into the dark room. I turned on the light and felt his eyes boring holes in my head. I turned, and the look he gave me was something I couldn't

understand, but I could see lust pooling in his eyes, not innocent like mine. The control I had exerted that night, to keep from jumping his skin, was immense. I needed to feel him. In the dim glow of my bedroom, that boundary finally broke.

He came to me with fire in his veins and restraint already slipping. Our bodies collided like waves and rock, crashing, testing, yielding. He moved with a dominance I had come to expect, but underneath it was something deeper. Desperate. Almost reverent.

"Strip, Bella, I want to see you," he murmured, making my legs tremble. This man was something else entirely.

I moved my hand slowly, undressing and meeting his gaze. His eyes roamed over my body, settling on the matching red panties I had on, giving the night a daring vibe.

"Do you know how much I want to forget everything I said about taking things slow and just rip these off you and fuck you hard on the bed?" His eyes were so dark that each word was a shockwave of intense desire.

"Do it," I knew I was playing with fire, but I was willing to burn for this.

"You don't know what you are saying, malyshka." I looked him straight in the eyes, walking up to him as we stood in the middle of the room, both our gazes screaming what we wanted. I placed my hands on his shirt and pulled him close.

"I want you to claim me like you always say." Perhaps I was speaking this way because of what I was feeling; I hoped I wouldn't regret this tomorrow. He immediately attacked me in a soft but dominating kiss, stealing my breath away. Our tongues fought for dominance, and he won, his hands worshipping more than claiming, his mouth tasting skin as if memorizing it.

I pulled back for air and watched as he stripped his shirt and trousers, leaving him only in his briefs. His imposing and beautiful body made my throat dry. He grabbed my waist and lifted me.

"You have been a bad girl for the past few days, but I won't punish you now. But once

we land in Russia, I will make sure you receive your punishment." For some reason, I had a feeling I would enjoy this punishment. He stripped me bare on the bed, laying me flat. I started feeling cautious about my body.

"Don't hide from me, malyshka, I want to see you all and feel every curve of you," he said while kissing every inch of my body.

"We have a flight to catch very early, but I want you to ride and sing my name

throughout this night. You need to rest." Something about him being thoughtful just

warmed my heart. I gave him a short nod, which earned me a smack on my already

pulsing pussy.

"Next time, words, malyshka."

I replied immediately, "Yes." He rubbed his hand on my bud, making me shiver with

intense pleasure, and then he stuck his finger inside, twisting and pushing in and out fast and hard, making me feel so good, even with his big finger.

"Ohh, fuck," I breathed out immediately as he added two more fingers, stretching me

further. At this point, my voice was louder.

"Fuck... Vlad, I need more!"

He smirked, "Oh, I will give you more." He pulled his fingers out, making me hiss, and

then pulled out his cock. Fuck, this thing is too large. How did he contain it before?

"Don't shy away now, we all know this is exactly what made you pregnant." This man had no filter. I tried to think of a comeback, but was silenced when he entered fully and hard, making me gasp.

"Fuck, Vlad!" He smirked and picked up pace immediately, not giving me a second to adjust. The feeling was too much. His hands were in my hair, pulling it; his mouth was marking my body; his cock was diving fast inside me, hitting my G-spot.

"Don't stop, please, let me cum," I spoke breathlessly.

"I love it when you beg, good girl." With that, he did not stop for a second and kept hitting me hard, his hands now on my throat, stealing every chance of air I had, making the whole thing more intense.

His grunts echoed deep in the room, making my insides tighten more. He moved with strength, purpose, overwhelming in his intensity, and yet, he never lost control. He watched me, gauging every reaction, every plea.

I met him with everything I had. Every moan, every arch of my back, every whispered curse was an answer to his questionless demand. I wasn't conquered. I burned with him. I chose to be consumed. My orgasm came crashing hard. "Ahhh-fuck, Vladimir!"

"Yes, lyubov, scream my name!" And I did just that. He released deep inside of me. A certain tiredness attacked me immediately, my eyes barely opening. I felt him stand up

and leave. A few seconds later, he came back with a wet cloth, cleaning me up.

After he was done, he walked away to dispose of the rag and crawled onto the bed, grabbing me in his arms. His hand stroked slowly up and down my spine, soothing, anchoring.

He kissed my forehead. "Rest," he murmured. "We have a long day ahead."

As sleep took me, I realized something with startling clarity. I didn't know where this road would lead. But I was on it now, with him. And somehow, impossibly, that no longer terrified me.