Page 22 of The Bratva's Forbidden Pregnancy

“Shh. Keep your voice down!” I exclaimed softly.

“Okay, sorry,” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “It’s just….” Fiona burst out laughing.

“What? What’s so funny?” My mouth dropped open like a trapdoor falling.

“I’m sorry, but this sounds like some Pornhub shit,” she replied amidst chuckles.

“Haha, very funny!” I rolled my eyes at her statement.

“But it does,” she insisted.

“I’m serious, Fi!” I grumbled, tossing myself into my chair.

“Okay. Alright. Walk me through how you feel,” she said.

I sighed heavily, burying my face in my palms. “Argh! I find him so irresistible—you saw the man; he’s gorgeous!”

“Yeah…” Fiona drawled lazily. “He is.”

“I don't know what to do, Fi. It’s like you said, this is like a scene straight out of an adult movie.” I rubbed my eyes.

“Do you think your parents know?” she asked.

I shot a glance at her. “That I have a huge crush on my father’s friend? I don't think so.” I paused. “I mean, Mom might suspect, but—”

“Quick question,” she cut me off. “What would you do if this ‘crush’ grows into something deeper?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

I hated it when Fiona got all serious with me, and her stare wasn’t helping at all.

“Okay, you need to stop looking at me like that.” I rose to my feet, massaging my temples.

“Like what?” she asked, feigning ignorance.

“Like that!” I blurted out, gesturing at the seriousness etched on her face. “It’s…it’s making me uncomfortable.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The sarcasm in her statement was glaring. “Do you think your parents would make you feel comfortable if they were the ones asking this question?”

She had a valid point.

“Sienna, we need to understand how you feel—how you truly feel—and to do that, you need to start talking…from your heart,” she said.

I heaved a sigh. “Well, if what I feel for Vlad turns out to be something deeper as you said, then I’ll go for it…if he’s willing to do the same.”

She looked at me, as if searching my soul. “And if your parents object?”

“If someone had objected to their union decades ago, and they listened, then I wouldn’t have been born.”

“So, you’re saying you’d go against them, then?” It was supposed to be a question, but it didn’t sound like it.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I replied.

“I like the sound of that,” she said. “Well, if Vlad would make you happy, then you have my blessings—if that’s even a thing.”

We laughed. It felt good talking to her about this whole bizarre situation, and her support meant a lot to me.

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