Sinful Blaze (Chekhov Bratva Book 1)

Blyat’.

I need another drink.

The bottle of vodka hasn’t left my side for the better part of an hour, which is how long I’ve been staring at the laptop screen. Trying to process this email.

Trying to process the fact that I, Pasha Mikhail Anatoly Chekov, am about to become a father.

Sofiya’s sing-song voice rings in my ears. “Is that a problem…? Or a blessing?”

I chug more vodka down and pray the screen will start swimming enough for all the information to blur together until it makes sense.

Because as it stands now, none of this makes sense.

I had everything meticulously planned out. Makari was supposed to be the family continuer. He should have been the one to go to the gallery and flirt with the attendants and⁠—

No. Can’t think about that what if. Even though he’s my little brother, the mental image of him being the one to sweep Daphne off her feet and into that storage closet makes my stomach churn.

So does this mean I have no regrets?

Maybe one: ever letting Daphne out of my sight once I’d heard how beautifully she sounded moaning in my ear. If I’d possessed her like I wanted to, she never would’ve slipped away and suffered through this on her own. I could’ve tasted her again. At the very least, we would have caught onto this sooner.

And I’d have had more time to absorb the new reality.

Me.

A father.

Fuck.

I tap out a text to my assistant and return to the screen. I need to figure out where I recognize her mother from. Something tells me that’s going to be a fucking nightmare waiting to happen.

The door to my office opens. Paris, my assistant, sashays into the room with my two siblings close behind. I don’t look at her; I don’t have to in order to see the way she’s provocatively dressed.

Paris still hasn’t gotten the memo: we’re done. Over. No amount of belly-baring “professional” attire is going to entice me to bend her over my desk ever again.

The fact that our convenient little arrangement ended the day after the gallery auction is merely a coincidence.

“Do you need anything else, sir?” Paris purrs.

“Yes.” I gesture for my siblings to take a seat and relax. I still don’t look up at her. “I need you to button your damn shirt and remember to be professional.”

She gasps softly and fingers the open fabric. “This? But I remember you like⁠—”

“Get the fuck out, ty shlyukha,” Sofiya barks. My little sister glares at my assistant with nothing short of a silent death threat until the door closes behind her short-skirted ass.

I used to think she was about as good as it could get…

Until I met Daphne.

Now, I wonder what I ever saw in her.

Sofi’s whole demeanor changes the moment we’re alone. “So?” She clasps her hands together and bounces on the loveseat where she’s made herself at home. “Was I right? Am I gonna be an auntie? A tetya?”

I glance over at Mak, who is smirking at me from the overstuffed lounge chair and waiting to hear if he’s about to become a dyadya. And, I’m sure, eager to know if his love life is officially off the hook.

My fist tightens around the vodka bottle. “Yes,” I grumble. “I’m the father.”

The room fills with Sofi’s squeals and Mak’s booming laughter. Both of them are bouncing in their seats like children, and I’m sitting here wondering how it’s possible to get a hangover before I’m even properly drunk.

“Dude!” Mak laughs and shakes his head at me. “When I said you should go for it, I meant something a little more official than bumping uglies with some stranger in a closet.”

“Oh, shut up, Mak.” Sofi smacks his arm. “I’m happy for you, Pash. Really. You’re going to be a great father.”

“Am I?”

“Of course you are! Why the hell wouldn’t you be?”

“Oh, gee, I don’t fucking know.” I wave the bottle in front of me, which she snatches from my grasp and hands back to Mak. He, of course, decides to imbibe on my private reserve without hesitation. I narrow my eyes at him, but even that requires more effort than I’ve got energy to give. “I’m not exactly known for my charitable contributions to society.”

Sofi dismisses it with a wave of her hand. “Pshh. You are a family man, first and foremost. Everything you do is for the good of our family.”

“Babies need gentleness. Compassion. Softness. All the things I definitely do not have.”

“Right. You’re such a hardass. Too hard and uncaring to take care of Mama when she was sick and needed all that compassion and softness.”

I suck in a low breath. I know what Sofi is getting at, even though I don’t want to admit it. When our mother sank into a dark depression and nearly starved herself to death, I remained by her side and nursed her back to health.

And I didn’t do it by barking orders.

Still… “I’m gonna break the kid. You remember how Otets was. What’s stopping me from becoming just like him?”

“That.” She snaps and points at me. “Right there. You remember what not to do.”

Mak nods. “Amen, sister.”

“The only concern I have, Pash? You knocked up a civilian.” Sofi’s brow knits with concern. “I’m sure she’s a lovely woman, but… you’ve got a lot of enemies. A lot of people who won’t hesitate to hurt you by hurting your new family.”

I know she’s right. It’s the exact reason why I didn’t want to have a family of my own in the first fucking place. We’re only talking about hypotheticals and I’m already feeling the overwhelming rage to go to war for Daphne and our child.

“They can fucking try. I’ll end them before they lay a finger on her or my baby.”

“As will we.” Sofi glances at Mak, who nods again. “We’re with you in this, Pash. You’re not gonna be alone raising this kid. And he or she is going to be the most loved, most protected, and most spoiled child in the whole world. Okay?”

I sigh again. I’m not alone. Neither is Daphne.

Our child will never be alone, either.

“We’ve got work to do.” I shut the laptop and rise to my feet. “Daphne and our baby are under my protection. Our protection. Whether she likes it or not.”