Page 46 of The Bratva Bosses' Surrogate

She tilts her head, “And where are you taking me tonight?”

I smirk, loving this game of ours. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you now, would it?”

Her laugh is soft, musical. “I suppose it wouldn’t.”

“So, you were reading that?” I point at her romance novel and can’t help but smirk.

She looks a bit caught off guard, a flush creeping up her cheeks. “Uh, yes, out of boredom, you know.”

But the way her smile curves, it’s like she’s holding back a secret. And the thought of her leaving us in nine months, it grips me with a fear so potent it’s almost paralyzing. I push it away, focusing on the now, on her.

“What are they doing in the book?”

She hesitates, biting her lip. “Just, um, you know, boring romance stuff.”

I lean in closer, my eyes dropping to the page she’s on. It’s clearly not just ‘boring romance stuff’. I point at the page, where the words are more than suggestive. “Really? That doesn’t look boring to me.”

She tries to cover the book with her hand, but it’s too late. I’ve seen it, and now the image is seared into my mind. Sofia, reading something so explicit, so raw. It’s wildly intriguing and undeniably arousing.

Her string of pearls catches my eye. I reach out and toy with it, a smirk playing on my lips as I imagine the pearls scattered across our bed sheets later. She swallows hard, and I can see her throat working. “These pearls suit you,” I murmur into her ear. My voice is low and husky, laced with dark promises.

“I... thank you,” she stammers out, her cheeks flushed.

“Maxym’s gift?”

“No, they were my grandmother’s.”

How come I never noticed it before? But then again, we know very little about her background, about who Sofia truly is beneath the layers she presents to the world.

I let the pearls slip through my fingers, a symbol of her history, her identity. “Your grandmother must have been aremarkable woman,” I say, genuinely curious about this piece of her life.

Sofia nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “She was,” she says softly, her eyes distant with memories. “She was strong, kind. She survived a lot, you know? These pearls were one of the few things she held onto through everything.”

It never really intrigued me before, but with the mention of her grandmother, I take the initiative. I snatch the book from her hands and sit right next to her, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body.

“Tell me more,” I insist.

“More what?”

“About your past,” I say, locking eyes with her.

She lets out a short, almost incredulous laugh. “Really? Are you also going to ask me what my favorite color is?”

“I already know that. Blue. You wear it often.”

Though I prefer her without it. She grins, looking down. It’s clear she’s somewhat surprised, maybe even impressed, by my attention to detail. I know more about her than she realizes, and that gives me a sense of satisfaction.

“I wonder what I can tell you more than you already know,” she muses.

“Try me,” I say, my tone firm yet open. I’m genuinely interested, craving to know more about the woman who’s managed to entangle herself so deeply in our lives.

Sofia shifts, leaning back into the sofa, her gaze thoughtful. “Well,” she starts, her voice a little hesitant at first. “My lifehasn’t been as eventful as yours. But I’ve had my share of struggles, you know?”

“I have time.” I urge her to continue.

“Okay, let’s start with my birth. Uhm. My dad, he left us when I was really young. I was an only child growing up. I never saw my dad, have no idea where he is or what he’s doing. But my mom, she was always glad that he left. Apparently, he was a drunk and he was violent.”

“Do you want me to find him?” The question slips out before I can stop it. My world is one where finding someone, anyone, is just a matter of resources and will. I can probably find him in a matter of hours.

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