Page 44 of Kidnapped By the Bratva

I shake my head, feeling a wave of frustration wash over me. “No. Let her go for now.”

Artem nods, but there’s a hint of uncertainty in his expression. He steps out of the office, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I sit back down in my chair, staring blankly at the documents on my desk. My mind keeps replaying the moment Sophia walked in, the look on her face. The guilt claws at me again, even though I know I didn’t cross any lines. I shut my eyes for a moment, trying to push away the conflicting emotions swirling inside me.

Why does it matter? I’ve always prided myself on staying in control, on never letting emotions dictate my actions. Yet here I am, feeling like I need to explain myself to a woman who was supposed to be nothing more than a pawn in this game.

I shake my head, annoyed with myself. I shouldn’t be feeling like this, I shouldn’t care. But I do.

Chapter Twenty-Two - Sophia

I grip the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turn white. I don’t even realize how fast I’m driving until I see the trees blur past me on either side. The road stretches ahead, but all I can think about is that moment—seeing Hailey draped all over him, her hand on his tie, that stupid grin on her face.

Why does it hurt so much?

It’s not like I’m in love with him. Ican’tbe in love with him. Our marriage was never about that—it was about survival. Power. Yet, the sight of him with her had twisted something deep inside me, a raw, aching pain that I can’t ignore.

Tears blur my vision, and I blink them away angrily. I don’t want to cry over this. Over him. But the memories of our moments together creep into my mind—the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t watching, the way his touch made my body come alive in ways I’d never felt before. Did all of that mean nothing to him?

I bite my lip, trying to keep the sob threatening to break free from escaping. Hailey Lawrence. Of course, it had to be her. She’s a famous model, someone I’ve seen on TV, in magazines—tall, beautiful, and effortlessly glamorous. She’s everything I’m not, and maybe that’s what stings the most.

Maybe Maxim does find her prettier than me. Maybe she’s the kind of woman he really wants.

The jealousy burns in my chest, and I hate myself for it. I don’t want to feel this way. I don’t want to care about who he spends his time with or who he desires. Yet the thought of him with Hailey, of her touching him the way I have—it sends a fresh wave of hurt crashing through me.

I wipe my eyes quickly, trying to focus on the road, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m spiraling, that nothing makes sense anymore. I should be strong. I’ve survived so much already. I shouldn’t let this affect me.

As I speed down the road, something catches my eye—a woman standing by her car on the side of the highway, waving for help. Her car looks like it’s broken down, and for a moment, I hesitate. Memories of the last time my car broke down flood back, the fear and helplessness I felt when Artem showed up and everything went dark.

Still, I can’t just leave her there.

I pull over and step out of the car, trying to shake off the strange mix of emotions swirling in my head. The woman looks relieved as I approach, her hands resting on her hips.

“Do you need a ride?” I ask, my voice a little shaky, still rattled from my own thoughts.

The woman shakes her head. “No, not a ride—just some help with a tire. It’s flat, and I don’t know how to change it.”

I nod, stepping closer to take a look at the tires. I know absolutely nothing about changing a flat, but I figure we can figure it out together. Anything to take my mind off the mess I left back at Maxim’s office.

“Let’s see what we can do,” I say, forcing a smile as I crouch down beside the car. My hands tremble slightly, but I focus on the task at hand, trying to block out the painful thoughts clouding my mind.

As we work, the woman chats away. She’s kind, with an easygoing smile, and chatting with her keeps me grounded. We talk about the simplest things—where she’s from, what she’sdoing out here—and for a brief moment, I almost forget about everything else.

Almost.

“So… you okay?” she asks after a pause, her voice gentle as she watches me fumble with the tire iron.

I glance up, startled. “Yeah. Why?”

“You just seem a little… off,” she says, her brow furrowed with concern. “Like something’s bothering you.”

I laugh softly, but it’s a hollow sound. “I guess you could say that.”

She doesn’t push, but there’s a knowing look in her eyes. “Well, whatever it is, I hope it gets better. If you need someone to talk to… sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger.”

I nod, grateful for the offer, even though I know I won’t take her up on it. My problems are far too complicated for a casual conversation with a stranger.

We both crouch beside the car, fumbling with the tools as we try to figure out how to get the spare tire on. It’s only as I’m finishing up, dusting off my hands, that she decides to introduce herself properly.

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