Page 81 of Knocked-Up Bratva Prisoner

“He went out,” Oleg says from the doorway.

“No, he wouldn’t do that…" My voice trails off. Is he done with me?

Did he leave and tell them to handle this so that he didn’t have to deal with my emotional outburst when they told me to leave? Does he really care that little about me that he can’t even be the one to tell me this?

My hurt is suddenly replaced by confused anger. I don’t understand what is going on right now. My blood pumps faster as my adrenaline increases. I feel the confusion of fight or flight, but there is nothing to fight against, because Alexei isn’t even here for me to argue with.

Why would he do this? Why is he kicking me out? Why didn’t he at least warn me? But I can’t ask him any of these questions, and really, that doesn’t seem fair at all. Why don’t I get to at least know why he made this choice?

The fact that he isn’t giving me any kind of closure should speak for itself, though. He just doesn’t care to do that for me.

Anya and Oleg are just staring at me, waiting expectantly for me to get up. But I’m naked. And I am certainly not going to be giving them a show.

“Guys, um." I pull my mouth tight and glare at both of them. "A little privacy, maybe?” The sarcasm in my voice is obvious.

“Right—Anya, stay with her. We can’t take any chances. I’ll be waiting downstairs.”

“Chances?” They make it sound like I am some convict who needs to be watched closely. What do they think I’m going to do?

I sigh in frustration, trying to ignore the deep ache growing in my heart.

I’d rather be angry than sad right now—especially in front of these two people who I hardly even know.

It’s a cold world, I guess.

I was naive to think it was anything other than a game to Alex.

And now he is bored and moving on.

Once Oleg has left the room, I sigh and toss the blankets off. Anya is giving me at leastsomeprivacy by standing near the window, facing a little away from me.

I pull on a pair of jeans and a hoodie. No time to shower, I guess.

What do I do with all the gifts he gave me?

I can’t exactly take them with me.

I glance over the clothes and perfumes and random, seemingly thoughtful things he gave me.

Suddenly, my eyes are burning as the tears pool.

No. I can’t cry. I can’t cry in front of Anya or Oleg or anyone.

For me, this was all real. My heart felt every moment with him.

But there is no point in crying over a man who doesn’t want you.

Dressed, I take one last look at the room, then turn to face Anya.

I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

“We can go,” I say, my voice tighter than I expected it to be.

She looks at me, deeply, into my eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be okay?” I snap harshly, then bite my lip because my emotions are getting the better of me.

---