The Bratva's Forbidden pregnancy

Five

Sienna

It was a beautiful morning in New York City, and I was tangling in my sheets, staring blankly at the ceiling as I clung to a pillow like a lifeline. The yellow sun shining through my window cast a warm glow that draped across my room, illuminating anything in its path.

I remained snug in bed, feeling too comfortable to get up as I was wrapped in a blanket of laziness. And to make matters worse, Bruno Mars' "The Lazy Song" wouldn't stop playing in my head.

"Yep, buddy. Looks like, today, I really don't feel like doing anything." I sighed, rolling over to the other side. "Nothing at all."

I caught my reflection in the mirror across the room just in time to watch a smile play on my lips as I recalled the day I'd met Vlad.

His aura of confidence and power still had a hold over me. And his eyes...those beautiful hazel brown eyes!

I couldn't shake him off my mind, and honestly, I didn't want to. Delving into my memory of him was satisfying.

Despite my parents' reservations and Babushka's glaring dislike for the man, I still found him really fascinating and interesting.

I wondered why, though. Why was there so much tension in the room that day? Why did my grandma feel that much hatred for him? Even Mom didn't waste any time showing her disapproval of me asking questions about Vlad.

Babushka said Vlad was mafia and had once dragged Dad into the criminal underground business. Maybe this was why she hated him. Was that a good enough reason?

My curiosity was piqued; I needed to know who he was and what the internet had to say about him. Grandma had her opinion, but I needed to find out for myself.

Out of the blue, a zeal to get out of bed struck me, and I sprang to my feet, flinging my sheets to the side.

Barefoot, I headed to my table by the window, my steps silent on the polished marble floor. Sitting in my chair, I flipped my laptop open, ready for a quick search.

My fingers rattled across the keyboard as I typed in his name. Shit! What's his last name?

I didn't know it. No one had told me, and I forgot to ask. Well, they probably wouldn't have told me even if I had asked, given the hostility around anything concerning the man.

What should I do?

I stared at the laptop screen, watching the cursor blink on the search bar, waiting for my next word. After thinking for a moment, I hit the enter key, and the internet worked its magic.

"No...no...no...not him...." Those were the only words I muttered as I scrolled through my search results. The images that popped up on my screen weren't of him.

"Hold on." I quickly zoomed in on a picture of a handsome man in a long fur coat.

But on a closer look, I realized it wasn't him. Another dead end.

There was nothing on the internet about the Vlad that I was looking for. Even when I decided to search for any Vlad associated with the Russian mafia, nothing about him popped up.

I dropped my head into my hands and slumped my shoulders. Leaning back in my chair, I let out an exhausted sigh.

"Hope you're happy now," I said to myself, referring to my parents.

It was established that Mom and Dad were keen on keeping information about him from me, only sharing what they deemed necessary.

Not cool.

Back in Russia, about two days after Vlad's visit, Dad had received an invite from him. Babushka was against the idea, obviously, but he said he'd be fine. He'd taken Mom with him, so I naturally asked, "What about me?"