Page 64 of The Bratva's Forced Bride

I couldn’t wrap my head around how ridiculous it sounded, and I felt like I was going insane.

Before I could say anything else, tears gathered in my eyes, Pietro left the room, closing the door behind him. It clicked with a lock.

Left alone in the room, I couldn’t help but choke on a sob.

I didn’t understand why I was there or what he wanted with me, and the thought of being torn away from Yaro and the others made my heart ache.

Even if I wanted to be a part of the family and help in any way I could, I didn’t want to be in the middle of the chaos. I didn’t want to feel like something that could be taken and traded all over again.

I just wanted Yaro.

***

The sun came up as the hours passed, and I still couldn’t leave the bedroom.

I tried to at least sleep during that time to try and wake up with a clear mind, but I didn’t have any luck. That constant panic wouldn’t let me go, and I was left to question what was going to happen to me.

Pietro offered me nothing in terms of an explanation, and that not knowing was burrowing under my skin.

I just hoped Yaro was at least on his way and that he knew where to find me. The family had ample resources, and I had my fingers crossed that something would help them figure out where to go.

I couldn’t stand the thought of being away from him for another night, left to try and sleep in a place I wasn’t familiar with.

By mid-morning, I was startled from my place on the side of the bed when Pietro waltzed into the room with a brown takeout bag, locking the door behind himself.

He only murmured a greeting and set the bag down on the side table, then made his way over to the closet within my view.

Pietro hummed to himself quietly as he rifled through the clothes, silently analyzing them.

With the sunlight pouring in, it helped me get a better look at him. His short hair was light-brown, and his skin lacked that healthy glow that Yaro had. It made me miss him even more.

Wearing another variation of a button-down and trouser ensemble, Pietro certainly looked like he had money. But the big watch around his wrist suggested he wasn’t very subtle about it.

“This one’s perfect,” he said, pulling out a matching set of satin pajamas he seemed to like. They were similar to the ones I already had on, yet the top was shorter, and the neckline was much deeper.

“Here,” Pietro murmured, handing them to me. “Put them on. You don’t need to wear anything from that place again. I want to see you in this one.”

While I took the white material in my hands, discomfort scurried through me at the thought. I half expected him to turn away or busy himself with something else, but he didn’t move.

Instead, Pietro stared at me, then lifted his brows expectantly when I didn’t move. “Go on.”

While something in me wanted to snap and throw them in his face, I knew I was walking a fine line. I couldn’t set him off, not when he was the one handling my fate. He was the one who determined when or how I might get to leave.

As much as I didn’t want to, I had to go along with it for the time being.

Sucking in a deep breath, I stood from my place and began with my bottoms since I at least had panties on.

As dread flooded my chest, I eased them down, then reached for the white ones once they hit the floor. I tried to make it go by faster, but Pietro made a sound of disappointment.

“Not so fast.”

Tears pricked at my eyes, but I urged myself to keep it together. I couldn’t let him see any sign of weakness that he might try to play into.

Instead, I stepped into the bottoms, leg by leg, at a pace I hated. When that material finally slipped over my thighs and reached my low belly, I felt only the slightest relief.

I managed to sneak a glance at him then, dreading the next part the most. I didn’t have a bra on.

Hesitating, Pietro caught on to it as he leaned against the wall, and his expectant look lingered. He gestured toward me vaguely. “Go on.”

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