Page 77 of The Lazarov Bratva

Nastja leads me to the bed and sits me down. I do so delicately, mindful of the toys buried inside me.

“Do you wish to leave?” Nastja asks. “Is that a life you yearn to go back to?”

I meet her gaze steadily, my tears melting away. I’m still slightly in awe that she apologized so quickly. I know what I should say. I should admit that yes, I do. That being kidnapped and turned into Kristof’s pleasure whore is not a life, but the words don’t come. They slide back down my throat with the bitter taste of a lie.

“No,” I say finally. “And sometimes, I don’t know.”

Nastja smiles suddenly, and her entire thin face lights up with unexpected warmth.

“Life will be good for you, you’ll see,” she says, patting my hand. “Now, take off the coat and let me take a good look at you. Then we will get you cleaned up and ready for dinner. How does that sound?”

Her sudden attentiveness reminds me painfully of Katja, and I nod slowly.

“That sounds great.”

“Excellent.” Nastja smiles and brushes down her blouse. “We must make this a good night. These weeks have been hard.”

24

KRISTOF

Finely chop an onion? The hell does that even mean?

It seems my skills with a blade don’t translate well in the kitchen, but for Alena, I’ll do my very best. There’s a backup meal in the fridge from one of the top chefs in the state if things go awry, and from the look of the chicken, I think I’ll have to sample just a portion of the backup meal.

As much as cooking is a terrible skill for me, there’s something calming about cooking for Alena. Knowing she’s upstairs getting looked after by my sister warms my cold little heart. The last few weeks have been beyond my wildest dreams, and she’s exceeded all of my expectations. For so long, I convinced myself that her attempts to assure me of how badly she wanted to be here were just a ploy to catch me off balance.

It seems she’s set on proving me wrong. So, I want to pamper her.

She’s good and obedient, and she’s learning quickly. More than once, she’s initiated things when I’ve barely stepped through the door, and nothing gets me harder than Alena’s willingness.

So, I want to be good to her, show her how good of a life I can provide before I have to sneak her out of the country.

Turning off the stove, I discard the charred chicken and collect the chef's meal from the fridge. The label on the top lists very specific instructions that I follow to the letter. I need this meal to be good so Alena can see that I can provide everything for her.

I’m halfway through plating up the creamy pasta dish when familiar heels click on the floor. I glance up as Nastja appears in the doorway with a light smile on her face.

“Smells good.”

“It’s not my handiwork,” I scoff. “As much as I tried.”

“You’re telling me the man who’s an artist at torture can’t cook?”

“You know I can’t.” I scowl at her, and Nastja laughs.

“I’m only teasing, Brother. There are more important things than cooking.”

“I don’t care. I wanted it to be good.” Frustration sweeps across my shoulders at her teasing. Setting the pan down, I scoop up the side salad I managed to make with minimal destruction and begin adding it to the plate.

“How is Alena?”

“She’s fine. In good spirits,” Nastja replies. She plucks a slice of cucumber from the bowl as she passes. “She seems content, if that’s what you are looking for. But you should be careful about pregnancy. She’s not on the pill and never has been, so you have to be careful. She hasn’t had her period yet, but judging by dates, she’s due soon. I’ve left a selection of toiletries for her.”

A tingle shoots down my spine. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t considered it because breeding Alena flits through my mind often. Fucking her so hard and full that my baby ends up nestled in her belly. How beautiful she would look all swollen and full, all because of me. Her round belly, ample tits, and glowing face as she prepares to bring our child into the world.

A child from us would be the most powerful kid in the world.

“Kristof, are you listening?” Nastja nudges me with her elbow, derailing my thoughts, and I nod quickly.

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