Page 21 of Forced By the Bratva

“You are supposed to know that by now,” I replied.

I didn’t know why it came out and cared little about it. I stared at her, but she didn’t act like it hurt her, so I responded that way. She nodded, still maintaining a neutral look. It was hard for me to read her expression at this point.

We began to eat quietly. The dining table was awfully quiet, but Jenna didn’t look ready to start a conversation. I intentionally made some noise by hitting my cutlery hard on the plate.

She raised an eyebrow at me. “I am aware you’re doing that on purpose.”

I sighed heavily and chewed the meat in my mouth, swallowing it before opening my mouth to speak. “We are not at a funeral,” I told her. “Even during funerals, cries are heard.”

She cleared her throat and dropped her spoon on her plate. “What do you want?” Her voice shook slightly, and I could not understand why.

“I guess cooking is your hobby?” I asked.

Her expression soured a bit. I couldn’t help but notice that the question changed her countenance a little.

“Not really,” she responded. “It’s just something I’ve done from a very young age.”

My brow furrowed in confusion. Why would she cook from a very young age? Why would Jenna even cook at all, considering her high-class background?

She must have grown up in luxury, having people around to do everything for her. Why would she need to do anything at all?

I began to realize that something was off. A few things didn’t add up. “You do these kinds of things by yourself?”

I knew I still wore a confused expression. Something was wrong, and I wanted to know what.

She nodded in response to my question. I knew I would need to persuade her a bit more to ask her to open up.

“Your father has everything. You didn’t have to do anything. You just loved chores.”

She chuckled lightly, but it sounded mocking, like it was an effort to suppress some pain. I was even more interested now.

“I didn’t exactly grow up with my dad,” Jenna muttered.

“Why?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

I didn’t want to pry, but I needed to know. Had she been sold off to serve somewhere? Did she do something at a young age and get disowned? Did the housekeeper raise her?

“I had to live with my mom after she and my father divorced, and he got remarried.” There was this sadness in Jenna’s eyes. It seemed like she’d never gotten over the whole thing, and even now that she told me about it, she still felt hurt.

“Why do I feel like you’re still hurting over it?”

“I don’t know... but...” She paused and bit her lower lip, then sucked her teeth. “It’s in the past now.”

I watched every single move that she made keenly. “Still, I want to know,” I insisted.

“There’s nothing much to know. I grew up with my mom. My father is the one who has the money, not my mom. I didn’t grow up in luxury, as you seem to think. I had a...”

She paused again. Jenna’s continuous hesitation didn’t help the conversation progress, so I wondered why she did that.

“It’s just that... I haven’t been that close to my father’s family,” she said, and I could hear the resentment simmering in her voice. “I’m not close with any of them. My stepmother, her daughter. It always felt like my mom was the only one on my side.”

Her eyes lowered as she finished talking, and she smiled sorrowfully.

I could not help but wonder even more. I was grateful to know a few things about Jenna, though. At least we were getting closer.

We continued eating quietly after she was done with her story. I didn’t comment on it because I didn’t want to say anything that would cause more pain to her.

She soon stood up and walked into the kitchen while I ate. I didn’t pay much attention to her disappearance at first; I thought she just wanted to grab something in the kitchen and that she’d be back soon.

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