Page 38 of The Bratva's Forbidden Pregnancy

Part of me wanted to believe that this was true—that maybe there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for his behavior. But I couldn’t put my heart on the line for a possibility. No, I wouldn’t; it wasn’t worth it.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I glanced at it.

Maybe it’s him.

My eyes widened in anticipation.

Don’t get your hopes up, the other voice warned sternly.

I stretched out my hand and snatched the phone; my shoulders dropped in disappointment when I realized the caller was Fiona.

Told ya.

Fiona had been so supportive since the incident with Vlad, and she’d been helping me cope with this heartbreak. She vouched for him for at least five days, urging me to be positive. But two days ago, she concluded that he had done that on purpose and that he was a playboy; Mr. Bad Boy were her exact words.

“Hi, Fi,” I said, my voice low and faint as I rubbed the bridge of my nose.

“Hey,” she replied with a soft, soothing tone. “How are you?”

I yawned, stretching. “I’m fine.”

“How are you really?” she insisted.

“Fi, I’m fine.”

She was quiet for a moment on the other line. “Okay, then, I guess you won’t have a problem with who I saw last night.”

My eyes narrowed. “Please, don’t ask me to guess,” I said, unwilling to do that with her today.

“Uhh…okay,” she replied as though that was exactly what she had in mind.

“Fi, what is it?” I demanded.

“Don’t freak out,” she said; that was a heads-up.

“Why would I do that?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

“Well, I was at a hotel bar with Jack last night, and you wouldn’t believe who I spotted.”

I had a good idea who she had spotted, and that made my heart skip a beat. Slowly, I pushed the sheets to the side and sat upright. “Who did you spot?”

She paused for a minute. “It was Vlad.”

My eyes shut reflexively at the mention of his name; it was as if my heart had been ripped apart by a fucking dagger. I was speechless, unsure of what to feel about this. He was at a bar, so what? I knew that he’d moved on already.

“Sia, you there?” she asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am,” I replied. “What was he doing?” Now, I sounded like an obsessed girlfriend keeping tabs on her man. Ridiculous!

“Uhm…first, you have to promise not to go ballistic,” she said, her cautious tone suggesting that she was about to drop a bombshell that would test my ability to remain composed.

Okay, this was definitely going to be juicy—and not the good kind.

“Fi, what was he doing?” I asked through gritted teeth, feeling a rush of anger surge through me.

“I don’t know, but he was surrounded by a bunch of women,” she said. “And other men, of course.”

A bunch of what now?

---