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When we arrive at the front of the train, Jasha is already on his feet again, pretending like he has everything under control when there’s an obvious instability to his step. “Outside. Break the snow off the left side of the train immediately,” Jasha commands, nodding in approval as his men pour out of the small train door.
“Thank you,” he says to me once they’ve left. “I’m feeling much better now.”
“I think you still need to sit down for a bit,” I reply, looking toward the seat in front of the controls.
He leans against it, but doesn’t sit down. “I’ll be fine. A little cold never hurt anyone.”
God, he’s so ridiculous. He can’t stand looking weak, even if he has to put his life at risk to do it. He’s like a teenage boy at the bus stop, refusing to wear a jacket in the middle of winter to impress his crush.
I feel like I actually might be the girl he’s trying to impress. The realization stirs something deep within me, but now isn’t the time to get caught up in my emotions. I already did enough of that as we were falling asleep together.
“I tried calling Nikolai, but the signal is dead. I think the storm might have something to do with it,” Jasha says, pulling out his phone. “Still no signal.”
“What do you need from Nikolai?” I ask, curious why he’s been calling him all the time. “Aren’t you the boss?”
“I am,” he snaps, straightening up like he’s been electrocuted by my words. “Nikolai just wants to know when we’re going to arrive, and he’s terribly curious about you as well.”
Raise an eyebrow. “Oh? You’ve been telling him things?”
“Only what he needs to know,” Jasha says, avoiding my eyes.
“Which is?”
“Your name, your occupation… This like that. Enough to run a background check on you,” he replies.
And here I was, thinking he was gushing over the phone to his brother about the woman he’s having a baby with. I should’ve known better.
“You don’t need to run a background check on me,” I reply, shaking my head. “Are you really that suspicious of me?”
“No,” he replies, sounding a bit annoyed. “I’m not, but that doesn’t mean Nikolai isn’t, and he’s not going to agree to bring you into the Family if you don’t pass a background check first. Not my rules, by the way. That’s Bratva tradition.”
I wonder if this is what he was arguing over the phone with his brother about. I find it sweet that he trusts me, but I’m not sure I want to be a part of his Bratva Family, regardless.
“Isn’t it a choice to be part of the Bratva?” I ask.
He looks at my stomach, his expression softening. “Not when you’re having my baby. I haven’t told Nikolai that yet. He just thinks we’re dating.”
I laugh. “It’s kind of funny that it’s the other way around. We’re not dating but Iamhaving your baby.”
“What? We are dating, sort of,” he says, sounding genuinely offended.
“You’re serious?” I ask, trying to stifle another laugh. “Jasha, you kidnapped me. That pretty much permanently rules out the possibility of ever dating.”
“It doesn’t change that you belong to me,” he replies, his energy shifting. He moves toward me, finding strength in his steps this time and using it to intimidate me. “You’re having my baby, so you’re part of the Bratva.”
I don’t allow him to have the upper hand. Ultimately, I have the power in this situation, especially since he believes I’m part of his Bratva Family now. I’m sure there are rules around what you can and can’t do to a woman in the Bratva, especially one who’s going to give birth to the boss’s heir.
I hold my ground, stiffening my lower lip and looking up at him. “I’m nobody’s property, Jasha. I want to make that clear as a new member of your Bratva. I’m not below you.”
He narrows his eyes at me, and I can see him trying to find some reason why I’m wrong in the back of his head, but he can’t. I’ve twisted his own words around and used them against him, and now he has to live with what he’s created.
“The Bratva doesn’t approve of babies out of wedlock,” he finally says, his eyes flickering down to my belly. “I just want to makethatclear.”
“I’m still not going to date you,” I reply, my voice losing its potency as his green eyes drill into mine.
“You don’t have to date me, Lola,” he replies, a smile curling up on his lips. “You have to marry me.”
14
