Page 55 of The Bratva's Forced Bride

Asher is looking out the window. “I didn’t want children at all.”

“I know, but surely you could reconsider, given the circumstances.” I glance at her. “Asher, we’re doing great together.”

“You still abducted me,” she says coldly, and I can feel the distance between us. “That isn’t the kind of life I want to bring a child into, even if I wanted one.”

“Asher…” I reach for her leg, but she pulls away from me, and I sigh. “Please. We were doing great.”

“It was a dream. Just make-believe.” I can hear the tears in her voice, and I bite my lip.

“It was more than that.”

“No, it was not!” she yells, looking at me. Tears are running down her face.

“Asher…”

“Stop saying my name. Just stop. Just leave me alone.” She turns away from me, and I grind my teeth. I put my guard up. Now is not the time to be weak. I pull into the driveway and get out of the car, slamming the door.

Chapter 20 - Asher

I go straight upstairs after seeing Danil go to his office. I hate him. I hate him with a fiery rage. I wash my face, get changed into warm pajamas, and climb into bed, putting the pillow between us once more.

I cry myself to sleep, but I do fall asleep.

I wake up at six, and it’s still cold. In fact, it’s too cold. I turn over and realize Danil’s side of the bed is still made. He didn’t come to bed last night. I briefly wonder where he slept and then I scold myself for caring. It doesn’t matter where he slept, does it? The bed is colder without his heat in it, and I feel like I need another blanket, but I’m not going to go looking for him and give him the satisfaction that I’m upset.

I think about how I upset him in the car last night. He was so keen that we’d been doing better. Have I been leading him to believe we actually stand a chance? I think about the foot rubs, the back rubs, and the spicy nights together. Because there has been some sexual chemistry between us. But do I have feelings for him?

It doesn’t matter. I’m not bringing a child into his life. He doesn’t deserve it. He’s a monster, and who knows how he will treat my baby?

Our baby.

My mind echoes the words, and I decide to get up and shower. I stand under the hot water and soak in the warmth as though he is near me. Holding me. I wash my hair and take my time, just giving myself some self-care.

I get out, wrap the towel around my body, and then sit on the bed, simply staring in front of me. I don’t want to go to work today. I definitely do not want to put in the effort it takes to look good for work. Maybe I can call in and have a day off. I’m sure Leanne can handle everything for one day while I’m off.

My phone vibrates, and I check the message. It’s from a private number.

Hi, it’s Tommy’s friend. We are the ones with the painting to sell. We have it stored at a storage facility. Can you meet us there? I will send the address.

This is that big sale. I text him to send the address, and I sigh, getting up and picking out neat work clothes. I curl my hair and put on some light makeup.

Danil walks in and past me, going straight to the bathroom. I hear the shower running, and I picture his naked body under it, and it gives me the kind of feelings I don’t want to have for him.

I put on my shoes and leave. I don’t even say goodbye.

At the gallery, I’m miserable. Leanne tries to pry out of me what’s wrong, but I just keep telling her it’s nothing and that I just had a fight with my husband.

She leaves me alone eventually, and I try my best to concentrate, but all I can think about is the meeting at the storage facilities. Maybe they have an entire collection I can sell. Maybe it’s something I can sell to the gallery. There’s nothing in my contract about doing that. They don’t need to know it’s me. I take my fee from the seller, not the buyer.

When lunchtime comes around, I excuse myself and drive the half an hour it takes to the storage facility. I find parking, walk along the rows, find F, and then start walking down the lockers until I reach fifteen six zero one. Standing outside the locker are three Mediterranean-looking men.

As I approach, one turns to me and holds out his arms. “Ah, you must be Mrs. Milov.”

I hesitate and then nod. “Yes, I was told someone was looking to sell some artwork.”

“We have the most beautiful piece,” the man says. “My name is Romano, and look here on this screen.” He takes a tablet from what looks like a relative and holds it in front of me.

My blood turns ice cold as I see my sister, Piper. She’s tied to a chair, gagged with duct tape, and staring wide-eyed at the screen, terrified.

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