Page 14 of Plus-Sized Bratva Prisoner

I stare at him with wide, terrified eyes. He looks enormous and threatening. His eyes trail over my body, and I realize I’m wearing nothing but an oversized white tee shirt, which is practically transparent.

Self-consciously, I hold my arm over my breasts. “I—I will have the money on Wednesday. Please. I just made a payment a few days ago.”

“You made a payment a few days ago that was three weeks late by the time you came up with the money. Now the next payment is due, and we won’t tolerate you being late again.”

“But it’s not due until Wednesday,” I complain anxiously.

“That is true. But I’m here to make sure you understand that we better have it then, or they are going to start finding your body parts lying around the city.”

I gasp in horror. “I’ll pay it.”

He eyes me one more time, not even trying to hide the fact that he is perving on me. I shrink back a little, wanting nothing more than to slam the door in his face but not daring to do that.

“I’ll see you on Wednesday, you little minx,” he snarls, grinning.

As soon as he starts turning away, I close the door, leaning my back against it and fighting tears. If they decide I’m an annoyance or they don’t want to wait for the money anymore there's no telling what they might do to me. I know the rumors, I know they kidnap people, sell them to cover debts, or sell their body parts on the black market. They get away with it.

I glance at my ornate rose gold watch and see that it’s just past five in the morning.

There is no way I will be able to get back to sleep now.

After double-checking that the door is locked, I wander through to the kitchen.

I need coffee. I need to get online and start looking for some extra work, because the three jobs I have now aren’t goingto be enough to get me out of this debt. I don’t know how the hell I’ll find the time, but I have to.

Even if it’s temporary.

It’s that, or who knows—maybe death. Maybe I’ll go missing. Maybe they will start finding my body parts around the city, as the collector said.

I stare blankly at the steam rising from the kettle as it boils angrily.

I’m fighting panic. I’m fighting tears. I’m too tired to actually cry, though.

I feel like I’m up against someone I’ll never win against. Like as soon as I pay the debt, they’ll tell me there’s interest or something. I feel like they can just keep adding to it, and there would be nothing I could do to stop them.

I lean my head in my hands as I stand there resting my elbows on the kitchen counter.

I can’t just give up, though. I can’t sit here feeling sorry for myself. What I need to do is find a way to get enough money to pay them off and hope like hell it’s the end of it when I do.

If it’s not—well, I’ll deal with that when the time comes.

The kettle flicks off and I jump.

Shit.

I’m really on edge.

Who wouldn’t be, after a giant monster of a man nearly broke down their front door?

I carry my coffee over to my little round dining room table, opening my laptop as I sit down. Exhausted, with burning eyes, I start browsing the job options. It has to be time-flexible so that I can fit it in around what I’m already doing.

I find a few options and jot down the details.

I’m so desperate that I’ll take anything at this point.

A cleaner, working on weekends for a few hours; a delivery service driver—no, can’t do that because I don’t have a car; a companion for an elderly lady, reading to her twice a week. Mm. That once sounds easy enough. I can stop in there on my way home from work and spend a little time with her.

I message the number provided with my details they requested.

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