Dark Christmas: A Bratva Next Door Romance (Silver Fox Daddies)

My heart’s racing like I’ve just sprinted a mile. I glance at the sideview mirror at the two men following our car. Both look like straight-up thugs, with hand and neck tattoos like they just stepped off the set of an action crime movie.

Chatting with the guy at the store about our imaginary kitten helped for a minute, but now with these bodyguards trailing us, the reality of the situation sinks back in.

We’re being hunted.

As we turn onto our street, my eyes drift to my little house.

Home.

God, I just want to be back there, snuggled up on my couch, pretending none of this is happening. But I can’t.

I can’t go home.

The stalkers know where I live. And clearly, they know where I work, too. I clench my jaw, trying to keep it together, but a wave of frustration hits me. My life was normal—baker’s hours, coffee shop, chill weekend kind of normal. Now I’m out here dodging assassins with Melor and his backup crew.

And the worst part is I don’t know if I’ll ever get that normal life back.

We park outside Melor’s place and step out of the car. Just as I think I can catch my breath he and the two mob-movie extras begin talking in Russian. It’s the first time I’ve actually heard him speak it, a reminder that he had a whole other life before me, a life that, apparently, isn’t done with him yet.

They continue to talk as we step inside the door. One of the guys asks a question to which Melor gratefully replies in English. “My place is a fortress; no one’s getting in.”

But one of the bodyguards isn’t having it. “Mashkov would have our asses if we didn’t check thoroughly,” he says, deadpan.

Melor concedes—apparently, there’s no point in arguing with Mashkov’s orders. As the men split off to do their sweep, I stand there, sighing to myself as I head toward the fridge. I spot a bottle of white wine, and for a second, I seriously consider pouring myself a glass. I could really use it after tonight.

But then reality slaps me in the face. Not with a baby growing inside me. No wine, no stress-relieving glass of anything. Just me, my overworked nerves, and this ticking time bomb situation.

I lean against the counter, trying to concentrate on my breathing. I’m not safe. Melor isn’t safe. And now, there might be a baby to worry about in the middle of all this.

I shut the fridge door. No wine. Just worries.

Melor comes up beside me, his presence calming, even though my mind’s still racing. “I’m sorry you’re caught up in this,” he says softly. “But I am going to resolve this soon. I promise.”

Before I can reply, the men return, speaking in Russian again. It’s like nails on a chalkboard, reminding me how much I’m out of the loop of my own life. I roll my eyes and cut in, “Can you please speak English so I can understand? I’m part of this, too. I want to know what’s going on.”

The men exchange glances, waiting for Melor to give the green light. He nods once. “The house is clear,” one of them says. “We’re staying in a hotel two blocks away. We’ll be in touch if you need us.” He hands Melor a business card.

Melor thanks them, and just like that, they’re gone, the door clicking shut behind them. The second they’re out of sight, I plop into one of the bar seats, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. It’s all too much—too much danger, too much uncertainty. I thought I could handle it but now I’ve got a baby to think about. I don’t even know if I can keep myself safe, let alone a tiny human.

I blink, trying to keep the tears from falling, but it’s a losing battle. Everything’s spiraling, and I don’t know how much longer I can fake acting like I’ve got it under control.

Melor comes over and wraps his arms around me, pulling me close. His warmth and strength are comforting for a second until reality hits again, a new reality. I’m hiding something huge from him. How the hell am I supposed to tell him I’m pregnant?© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

He holds me tighter, his voice firm. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

I’m too exhausted to argue. Melor feels the tension in my body and adds, “I promise, Amelia. The problem will be solved by Monday.”

I want to believe him, but the sinking feeling in my stomach won’t go away. I know he’s trying to reassure me, but I also know that promises like that don’t always hold up in real life.

“I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep you safe,” he murmurs in my ear.

I look up at him, refusing to back down. “No euphemisms, Melor. Be straight with me.”

His eyes lock onto mine, fire burning behind those dark pools. “If I have to kill them to protect you, I’ll do it. Without hesitation. Without even raising my heart rate.”

He says it as if he’s discussing something as simple as what to have for dinner. It’s chilling, and I believe him. Completely. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s telling the truth. The way he says it, so matter-of-factly, makes my stomach flip. I know this is his reality, but it isn’t mine.

I swallow hard, “Okay.”

Melor wipes away my tears then asks, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

I shake my head because, honestly, I have no clue how to answer that. “No,” I mumble.

He kisses me on the cheek, his lips lingering just a second longer than usual. “I’ll be in my office making some calls if you need me. Don’t hesitate.”

Part of me wants to grab his arm and tell him not to leave me alone but I let him go. I need a minute to wrap my head around what happened tonight.

As soon as he’s out of sight my mind starts spiraling. I want to keep the baby, but can I really bring a child into Melor’s world? The constant danger, the uncertainty; he says he’s out of the Bratva, but is that something that anyone can ever truly be free from?

I drag myself out of the chair, thinking maybe I need to eat something, but the thought of food makes my stomach twist even more. I’m still queasy and tonight’s events didn’t help any.

I head upstairs to the bathroom on the third floor, figuring a bath might calm me down a bit.

I pull off my shirt and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My eyes go straight to my belly.

I know deep in my bones that the test was correct.

Turning on the hot water, I let the tub fill up, the steam curling around me. I strip off the rest of my clothes and slip into the water, sighing as the heat sinks into my skin. I keep telling myself to relax, to breathe, but it’s almost impossible. Everything feels so heavy right now.

It’s hard not to think about the fact that, before this is all over, someone could end up dead. That’s just how things go in Melor’s world. He’s made that clear.

And now, I’m stuck in the middle of it with a tiny new life to protect.