Page 41 of Forced Bratva Prisoner

“I love this weather. I hope it rains.”

“The kids love it when it rains. They demand to put on their gumboots and raincoats and go jump around in the puddles. Of course they come back inside covered in mud, but with big smiles on their faces.” She grins.

“Were you here looking for Leon? He left about half an hour ago, so you just missed him,” I comment.

“Actually, I stopped by to see you. Maxim told me about what happened at the party, and I wanted to come and find out if you were okay. He said you looked really bad…."

Her voice trails off. I can see she isn’t completely sure how to approach this subject.

“Oh.—yes, I’m okay.”

She nods and bites her lower lip. “Listen, Sasha, Maxim said you kind of looked like you were in shock. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I’m here, you know, if you need to.”

I take a deep breath. I’ve never really had anyone to talk to about the things in my head. My father was always cold and distant, and when he wasn’t cold and distant, he was nasty. I used to, when I was younger, talk to Marie, but as I got older, I just realized that all I was doing was talking myself in circles, because talking about it didn’t change anything. My father was still an asshole, and I just ended up saying the same things over and over again.

That’s how I learned to just bottle things up.

“I’ve never been much of a talker,” I chuckle, trying to make light of the awkward tension.

“I’m the opposite. I talk too much,” Chiara laughs.

I shake my head. “I just never saw the point in talking about things unless you could actually change them.”

“You can change a lot of things by talking about them. Letting your worries bounce around in someone else's head for a while can give you a new perspective you never had.”

I sigh softly.

Maybe she’s right.

What have I got to lose, anyway?

“What happened at the party—it just triggered a very bad memory for me, that’s why I looked like I was in shock. I kind of froze up.”

“What kind of memory?” she asks cautiously.

“A memory of being locked in a basement without food, warmth or any kind of comfort. Ignored for days on end despite my constant pleas to be let free. Being beaten when I made too much noise. Being abused emotionally and physically.” I bite my lip. It’s not nice to remember it. But it is nice to admit to someone what really happened to me.

She takes a deep breath. “You were tortured.”

Just then, Penny arrives with the coffee, and we both smile tightly while she places it on the table for Chiara, along with some breakfast croissants.

“Thank you, Penny,” I smile.

When Penny is gone, Chiara turns to look me right in eyes.

“Sasha. Has Leon tortured you since you got here?” she asks with full seriousness in her voice.

My heart flips. Leon.

“He—" My brows knit together. Chiara sits quietly, watching me and waiting for my response.

Leon has annoyed the hell out of me. He’s locked me in his mansion like it’s a prison. He’s taken away certain luxuries, he’s given me the silent treatment—but no, he hasn’t once laid a hand on me. He has never hurt me. He hasn’t even emotionally or verbally brought me down in any way. He’s even respected my boundaries in the bedroom, and he has provided me with absolutely everything I needed, all of the essentials and basics.

At the party he was actually protective of me. He didn’t leave my side when he saw I was uncomfortable, and when that idiot, Rico Nunes, attacked me, he was quick to stand up for me and take me home when I needed to leave. Then at home he sat with me. He didn’t have to do that. He could’ve just left me to deal with my emotions myself.

I shake my head and a small smile crosses my lips.

He hasn’t tortured me. He hasn’t done anything bad except for forcing me to stay here.

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