Chapter 14: Wren

I sat in the backseat of the car, a subtle smile playing on my lips. My head rested against the glass as my mind analyzed the events of the last few days.

Contrary to what I'd initially thought, being married to Afanasy wasn't bad. If anything, it was peaceful and full of bliss, which was something I never imagined I'd find in this mansion.

Afanasy had proven to be more than capable of taking care of me in ways that exceeded my expectations. He'd managed to change my reality from bad to better, and now I was starting to believe this wasn't such a terrible idea after all.

He'd been sweet to me since the wedding, cracking me up with his good sense of humor, sass, and wit. The man had a way of bringing a smile to my face without even trying, and no matter how hard I fought him, I was unable to resist his charms.

As the days went by, I grew more and more comfortable around him, gradually slipping out of my shell. Something in me was starting to germinate—a feeling I couldn't quite quantify.

Things were moving too fast, and it all seemed too good to be true. Was this real? Did I really feel so safe and secure around the man who had kidnapped me and kept me prisoner in this mansion for months?

There was a tug-of-war between the part of me that enjoyed the way things were going and the other part that felt guilty for harboring such feelings for Afanasy. The man responsible for my present predicament shouldn't have this much of an effect on me. Yet, I couldn't help myself.

And then…there was the sex.

My heart skipped for joy, and my smile broadened as images of our naked bodies colliding in the heat of passion flashed in my mind. There was a tingling sensation between my legs and a spark of electricity that jolted across my body.

This was never how I’d envisioned losing my virginity, but Afanasy showed me just how limited my imagination was.

He was a real man who knew exactly how to pleasure a woman. He knew the perfect positions to make love. He understood my emotional needs and never failed to meet them all. The way he played with my body always sent shivers down my spine.

The man knew exactly where to touch me and how to please me. Now, I couldn't get enough of him. I found myself always wanting him, craving him. He'd taken away my innocence, pulling me into this realm of overwhelming desire and sheer ecstasy.

The way he pleasured me had me attached to him in such a way that I found it rather scary. In his absence, I would touch myself sometimes, with his face displayed in my head, in an attempt to quench the hunger.

I would always wait impatiently for him to return home from work, anticipating what he'd do to me. With Afanasy, there was never a dull moment; he was always so spontaneous—trying out new stuff.

We'd made love in so many positions, but my personal favorite was when he would ram me from the back while pulling my hair. No wonder the other woman he banged in that position was screaming that day.

Shower sex was an experience that blew my mind—the feeling of our wet skin gliding over each other under the shower spray was something out of this world.

I bit my lower lip, my nipples tingling beneath my bra at the thought of hands on me, and now, it was as if I could feel his touch. What had he done to me?

I couldn't think straight. I was craving my husband, and it was as alarming as it was crazy.

How did he manage to wake up all my senses? He'd ignited a type of fire in me that I never thought I had, and now it seemed like that fire wouldn't go out anytime soon. I didn't want it to, anyway; I loved the feeling—the thrill, the burning desire.

But I was worried I'd get addicted, considering how things were going at this point. I’d tried to checkmate my feelings and my reaction to his touch; however, with every attempt, it felt more and more impossible to resist him.

I was starting to feel comfortable, relaxed, and maybe even…happy? Perhaps “happy” wouldn't be the correct word to describe my current situation, but it sure seemed close to it. Like, very close. Was it too soon to loosen up this much? Will he take me seriously, knowing that I would always melt at his touch?

This whole sex and marriage thing was new to me—I had no idea how it worked and had no experience with sex whatsoever, so, in essence, I had no clue what I was doing.

Sure, I'd read countless stories of situations like this, but nothing could have prepared me for the surreal reality of living it myself.

I needed to talk to someone. I had a lot of questions, but who would I ask?

On one hand, I thought I had a good thing going on, but on the other, I was worried that it seemed too good to be true. With good reason. Wasn't it possible that I was being carried away by this newborn intoxicating passion that I was unable to see the bigger picture?

What if my emotions were clouding my judgment?

Afanasy had made me feel like a woman; he'd made a woman out of me, in fact. He was my first and had made the experience quite memorable for me. He toiled with my body in ways that I could've never dreamed of.

His hands, his tongue, and his huge cock always awakened the lioness in me, taking me places in the realm of passion. What if all of this was just a phase? What if he got tired of me after the flame died? Then what?

Was all of this analysis necessary, or was I just being paranoid?

He'd treated me better than any man ever had, and that was the problem. I wasn't used to men being so gentle and kind to me, much less a man like Afanasy—a ruthless Bratva boss. It just didn't add up.

He was the type of man who could get whatever and whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He was that powerful. Was being attached to such a man a good idea?

Things between Afanasy and I seemed great at the moment. No arguments there. But what about later? Would things still be as great?

I knew his lifestyle: violence, women, and everything bad in between. Whether I could live with that or not didn't matter—I didn't have a choice.

Afanasy was one of the most unpredictable individuals I'd ever met. So, maybe I'd dial it down on the brooding and just enjoy this feeling while it lasted. The man could change at any time, and it may or may not be in my favor.

The driver drove into the hospital and pulled over at the parking lot. “We're here, ma'am.” He jerked his head up, catching my eyes in the rearview mirror.

I drew a deep breath, and before I could think of stepping out, he exited the vehicle and walked over to help open the door for me.

My brows arched.

I still hadn't gotten used to the perks that came with the Tarasov name. As Afan's wife, I enjoyed certain privileges: respect, honor, and protection, amongst other things. I never went anywhere without a private security detail of my own—clearly, it was a Tarasov thing. I just hadn't adjusted yet.

I rarely left the house, anyway, but I had an appointment with a doctor today, and my husband insisted that I went with a freaking squad.

“Hell, no! What am I, the queen of England? ” I cackled, eyes fixed on him as my fingers deftly knotted his red tie.

“No, but you're a Tarasov,” he said, his head jerking upward as my hands worked on his neck. “And it's customary for a Tarasov wife to—”

“...move about with bodyguards for security reasons, I get it,” came my interjection, my palm brushing over the surface of his silk white shirt.

I was done knotting his tie, and he stepped back, looking in the mirror as if examining my work. “Hmm.” He pursed his lips. “You did better today.” His tone was laced with sincerity and a glimmer of pride.

“Thank you, but don't change the subject,” I replied quickly, more concerned about the matter at hand than his praise.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he picked up his coat from the bed. “It’s just a security detail, Wren.” He slipped into it, his lips curling into a smirk.

“And it's just a doctor's appointment,” I insisted, arms across my chest.

He paused, heaving a sigh, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “You won’t stop bugging me, will you?”

“Uh-uh.” I shook my head. “Just ask one of them to go with me. One is enough.”

“Three,” he negotiated, eyes pinned on me.

“Three is a crowd, so, no,” I replied, a playful scowl settling on my face.

“Two, then?” He squinted, tilting his head.

I narrowed my eyes, unwilling to let him influence my decision.

“Fine,” he declared, finally giving in. “Dmitry will go with you.”

It felt good winning this argument, even though I knew he deliberately let me have this one.

Dmitry opened the door, and I stepped out, my heels clicking against the pavement. For a little while now, I'd been under the weather, hence the reason I was here for a check-up.

Dr. Lee's office was cozy, with soft beige walls adorned with calming nature prints. Across from his desk, I sat reclined comfortably on a plush armchair, fist under my chin.

The air was filled with the faint scent of lavender as Dr. Lee's blue eyes remained locked on me. I squinted, my head slightly tilting when he cleared his throat and edged closer.

He'd taken my blood samples and had run some tests; now, it was time to reveal the results.

Immediately, I started thinking the worst, considering the manner in which my mom had died. As I stared at the silent doctor, my heart raced, pounding in my heaving chest. “Dr. Lee…” I called, my tone dropping to almost a whisper. “Am I…dying?”

His brows arched, eyes widening at the gravity of assumptions. “What? No. Why would you think that?” His voice was laced with disbelief.

I drew a deep breath, releasing a heavy sigh of relief, my breathing steadying by the second. My thought of death wasn't random; clearly, the trauma of losing my mother to cancer still affected me in more ways than one.

“You're not dying, Mrs. Tarasov,” he said, his face lighting up a bit.

My God, I'm gonna have to get used to people calling me that, I thought. It sort of felt good, though.

He placed his elbows on the table and added, his voice gentle but clear, “In fact, you have life growing in you.” A smile played on his lips.

Dr. Lee's words stole my breath away, prompting my head to pull back, my brows arching ever so slightly. “I'm sorry, what?” I leaned forward, paying rapt attention. Maybe I hadn’t heard him correctly the first time.

“There's life growing in your womb, Mrs. Tarasov.” He paused, allowing the words to settle. “You're pregnant.”

Instantly, the wheels began to spin in my head, my mind reeling as his announcement hung in the air. My eyes widened, brows shooting up in stunned surprise.

A dismissive laugh escaped my lips. “There must be a mistake somewhere, doctor. I'm sick, not pregnant.” I paused, watching his face, which was etched with solemnity. “Right?” My throat dried, making it difficult to swallow.

Dr. Lee's expression remained compassionate but firm. “I'm afraid not, Mrs. Tarasov. Your HCG levels are elevated, and the ultrasound confirms embryonic development.” His eyes bore into mine. “You are pregnant.”

My eyes drifted to the medical report on the table, the chart, the graphs, and the scribbled notes all blurring together.

Two weeks. That's all it took.

Was I ready for a change in my life?

First, it was my unplanned marriage; now, it was this. Everything was happening too fast, and it felt like I had little to no control over anything.

My face paled, hands flying to my stomach as if seeking proof. “I'm pregnant,” I stuttered, my voice barely audible as the realization kicked in.

Fuck.