Page 26 of The Bratva's Forbidden Pregnancy

“So, that’s how it is?” I said, attempting to play on her conscience and coax her into answering me.

“I haven’t looked out the window since you arrived. What does that tell you?”

“Do you always answer questions with questions?”

“Does it bother you?” She smirked, squinting her eyes.

Not at all. It didn’t bother me one bit. I liked that she could hold a conversation with me.

She was good at this, and I was impressed by her ability to so conveniently flirt with me. It was remarkable.

The air was filled with the alluring scent of her perfume, and her radiant smile, so contagious, melted my stone-cold heart. Her lips, glossy and cherry-red, seemed inviting, curling up to reveal a glimpse of her pearly whites. A soft blush bloomed on her cheeks, accentuating her vulnerability, and her body language exuded approachability.

I was so captivated by her that we stayed quiet for a while, looking into each other’s eyes.

Sienna had a hold on me that was impossible to escape; moreover, I didn’t want to escape. I loved being under her spell. I was enthralled, and for the first time, I felt powerless, powerless to resist her charm. Her influence over me was unshakable, and I was trapped in the web of her seduction.

A waiter walked past us with a bottle of wine on a tray, but he had barely taken two steps behind me when his feet tangled in a sudden misstep. The bottle teetered precariously on the tray, threatening to crash to the floor.

Time itself seemed to slow down as the bottle spun in the air, its trajectory tracing a lazy arc. With lightning speed, I shot out a hand, my fingers closing around the neck of the bottle.

Sienna’s jaw dropped literally; her brows shot up, and her eyes widened at the scene.

The glass chilled my palm as I held it steady.

Shocked, the waiter walked over to me, his hands trembling as I handed the bottle to him.

“Thank you, sir.” He accepted it, gratitude flickering in his eyes.

I hadn’t done it to gain recognition; it was an act of self-preservation. If that bottle had hit the floor, the contents would have splashed on my pants and shoes. I couldn’t guarantee how I would have reacted if that had happened. So, by catching the bottle, I was actually saving him from my own wrath, not just the wine owner’s.

“Wow!” Sienna said softly. “Nice reflexes.”

I responded with a faint smirk.

As the waiter left, another materialized to take our order. It was the same girl that had approached me earlier.

“Hi, again,” she said to me, her tone polite and respectful. “Hi, Sienna.”

“Hi, April,” Sienna replied.

“What can I get you today?” April asked.

Sienna looked at me as if to ask what I wanted.

“You place the order. You’re the regular here, not me—besides, I trust your food judgment,” I said.

She faced April, who was waiting with a notepad and a pen in her hand. “Okay, just get me the usual.”

“Turkey Club, then?”

“Yep,” she replied, “but without the lettuce, tomatoes, and mayonnaise—just the good stuff, basically.”

“So, turkey, bacon, cheese, and bread?” April asked to confirm.

“Exactly.” Sienna winked at her.

“Got it.”

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