All Chapters of Pregnant & Desired By The Mob Boss: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

NadezhdaMother sits silently in the seat next to me; her gaze fixed on the blurry scenery passing outside the window. Her spine is straightened, attentive to every movement I make.Even without her looking at me.It hurts. She hasn't looked at me since we pulled out of the parking lot.She hasn't really looked at me since I delivered the news a month ago.I'm pregnant.Getting pregnant was never part of the plan. Not in the next five, or even ten years. And definitely not now. Not when we'd only lost my father a few months before, when my mother was mired in a dark pit of grief. And certainly not when I would have to do it all on my own.The pregnancy had been an accident, but my mother didn't see it that way."Did you see him? He seemed very big," I say, needing to fill the bludgeoning silence in the tight space of the car. The knot in my chest felt more tight, more solid.Mother hums in agreement."I think the image was blown up, though," I say, tapping the black and white sonogram

NadezhdaI follow behind her, grabbing her arm just before she can grab the handle. She gasps when I grab her, but I'm too angry to care."Why are you acting this way?" I feel more like the parent in this moment. Like I'm disciplining a stubborn child. "You cannot just avoid me until the pregnancy is over. You do realize that, right? At the end of this, there will be a child. A baby who will need to be taken care of. Are you going to ignore me then, too? Are you going to continue pretending I do not exist until you join Father, wherever he is?""Do not speak to me like that," she hisses, stepping forward, her nose inches from mine. We are the same height and build, though her body is softer, thicker around the hips and thighs. And her eyes are a deep, dark brown. My blue eyes came from my father. "I am still your mother.""You haven't been acting like it." My voice is loud enough that she takes a step backwards, but she isn't giving up. Not a bit. Her eyes narrow."I've been your moth

Artyom"Signed 'Vlad'," Lukyan says hollowly, his top lip pulled back in a snarl. "Like he doesn't want to consider himself my father anymore. Can you believe it?"Truthfully, I can. Though I won't tell Lukyan that.Our father has always preferred Lukyan. He has a soft spot in his hard heart for his eldest son, for the man who will one day take over his business. However, that spot has been firming up with each new indiscretion. For years, Lukyan's vices were relegated to his personal life. He spent his free time in clubs and bars and drug dens, having his fill of whatever sin was offered to him, but it didn't affect his day-to-day duties as the second-in-line to the Paplov crime family crown.That has changed in the last few years, though. His nights out have turned into weekend benders that leave him unconscious and impossible to reach. No one can find him, and when they do, he is too sick to be of any use. Father has done his best to impress upon Lukyan the importance of his role i

ArtyomI didn't sleep much after parting with Lukyan, and I feel the weariness in my bones as the plane begins to descend over St. Petersburg. It is early, fog rolling across the water that stretches into the horizon. It's a beautiful view, but I'm in no mood to appreciate it."Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Paplov?" the flight attendant asks, leaning forward to give me a straight view down the front of her button-down shirt. If I remember correctly, it was buttoned up to her neck when I arrived. Now, it barely covers her cleavage. She mentioned her name when I got on the plane, but I made no effort to remember it. We rarely use the same attendants twice. No one outside our operation should know too much about our movements. It is an unnecessary risk.I shake my head and wave her away. She brought me coffee at the start of the flight, and I made the mistake of smiling at her. More than anything, it was an attempt to lighten my own mood. Lukyan's predicament is a dark clo

ArtyomPunching Cyrus feels like a sigh of relief. A moment of reprieve after days—weeks?—spent clenched. As much as I hate to admit it, Cyrus was right about one thing at least: I am the one with boundaries. Lukyan would have had a knife to Cyrus' neck the moment he even breathed a word against me. But me? I held back. I waited until I couldn't contain it anymore. Honestly, I'm not sure which strategy is better."Fuck!" Cyrus cries as he drops to the floor. His knees crack against the concrete, and he winces. "What in the hell is wrong with—?""I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you," Dominic says, unmoved by my sudden outburst.Heat radiates from my center, flooding through my arms and legs, and my vision is blurred around the edges. The only clear spot in my vision is Cyrus crumpled on the ground. I grab his sweat-stained gray sweatshirt by the collar and haul him to his feet. If it weren't for the wrinkles around his mouth and eyes, I'd think I was beating up a teenager. He