Page 39 of The Bratva's Forbidden Pregnancy

I was suddenly so pissed that I could feel my nails sinking into my flesh as I balled a fist. He was out with some men and surrounded by women; that sounded a lot like he was having fun. Of course, he was, and I was here sulking in bed because of him.

I told you he wasn’t worth it, my inner voice said.

“I took some pictures. Would you like to—”

I cut her off. “Send them.”

“Okay. Just don’t do anything irrational.”

A few seconds later, my phone chimed, and I lowered it, looking at the photos she’d sent. Filled with rage, I pursed my lips, glaring at the images on my screen as I scrolled through them. My breath was rapid, and my face scrunched up as I tightened my hold against the poor sheets.

In all of the photos, there was this one woman that was all over him, like a moth to a flame. He was seated on a sofa, impeccably dressed up in a nice, tailored suit with a stick of cigar hanging off his lips. The woman’s proximity made my brows furrow, and I clenched my fist.

I scrolled through to the next photo. Vlad was leaning on the couch, sipping from a pitcher with the same woman leaning in his arms. They both seemed cozy, laughing, chattering, and having a good time.

From the angles these pictures were taken, Vlad looked super handsome, and the camera really captured those dashing eyes of his.

Still thinking there’s something more about his behavior than meets the eye? one of the voices asked.

Okay, I take it back. He’s just a total asshole, my voice of reason admitted.

He’d used me to satisfy his urge, to quench his desires. I was a fool to expect more from a man who viewed the world from a broken lens. He’d warned me against being too close to him, and I hadn’t listened.

I cast a piercing stare at the woman in the photo, feeling sorry for her because he’d just spend the night with her and then dump her the morning after.

My parents had been right. Babushka had been right. Vlad was bad news.

“That’s Lily, the woman in the pictures,” Fiona said, drawing back my attention. “She’s a famous escort.”

Lily was beautiful, with a pretty smile and black hair that cascaded down her shoulders. Her pale blue eyes matched the color of her sexy gown, with a long slit that revealed her alluring thighs.

He clearly had a type—the hot ones—and I wondered what neat trick he’d use to lure her into his bed, if he hadn’t done that already.

He’d caught me with his love for art; what would he use on her this time?

I guess you’ll never know, a voice said.

Remind me not to fall so stupidly ever again, I thought.

We got you, the voices said at the same time. Now what? What’s your plan?

“Sia, you with me?” Fiona asked. “Look, I’m sorry if this upset you or if I shouldn’t have taken the photos—I just thought that you deserved to know so you’d stop beating yourself up, worrying about Mr. Bad Boy, who’s obviously having a time of his life even after how he treated you,” she said in a rush. “He doesn’t deserve you, Sia. He doesn’t deserve your tears.”

I took a sharp intake of breath. She’s right; he doesn’t.

While I’d been stuck in here, obsessing over the situation, Mr. Bad Boy was out there, busy crossing names off his list.

With that, I got out of bed, headed to the windows, and parted the curtains.

“Sia?” Fiona called, worried about my silence.

“There’s no need to apologize, Fi, you did me a solid,” I replied. “How’s your Friday gonna be?”

“Uhm, I’m not sure yet. Why?”

“Because I want us to go clubbing. I need to get my mind off a lot of things,” I blurted.

“Amazing!” she exclaimed. “That’s perfect. You’ve sulked long enough. Time to have some fun.”

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