Page 26 of Forced By the Bratva Beast

She probably received an inheritance from her parents’ death, I reason. I slow to a crawl at the end of the street as she parks in front of the small block of brick apartments. I wait impatiently for her to step out of her car. Scrutinizing her from afar, I notice she takes her sweet time gathering her belongings as the blue hue of the Chicago sky blends into gray. Inching forward, I dare her not to look out the window as I stealthily park myself between two cars smack-bang in front of her apartment.

Hurry up. Do you have someone else to visit you? Fascinated with her life, I fabricate stories in my head about her. Does she have a new lover already? But when she gets out of the car, she wears the same forlorn look she had getting into it. She opens her front door, and I’m enjoying the view from outside. Iwatch her mouth part as she drops her bags on the table in relief before closing her curtains.

They’re old-style sheer curtains, so I can still see through them. She moves away from the window, and the light flicks on in the second room. Flames of dark desire torch a trail through my system as the movements of her silhouette transport me back to our night together on her couch.

Does the scent of our lovemaking still linger there? I bet she looks at it every day and wants me back on it. Salivating, I peep in as Sophia flicks her orange locks over her shoulder, a groan popping out of nowhere while I adjust my package. Fuck. What is she doing to me? Her hands start their unbuttoning process, the pulse in my neck throbbing hard as her shirt falls away, the outline of her breasts visible. Staring over the wheel, I glare along the street not wanting anyone else to enjoy the peep show the way I am. A guy walking his dog passes in front of her house but doesn’t look up or stop.

Smart man, because if you do look, I will have to beat you senseless. Strangely protective over her, I stare, remembering our sacred night together. A thirst for reliving that ancient memory drives my heartrate up while she unbuckles her belt, but before she does, her blind descends over the sheer curtains, souring my victory.

Fuck. Why couldn’t she let me watch? I’ve had calls from my regular sex partners—former call girls, women whom I’ve helped in the past. That’s always been enough to keep me topped up, but since my night with Sophia, I haven’t been the same man. There’s been no desire for anyone else, and when the dirty text messages land in my inbox, I don’t give a shit about them. In fact, I’ve ghosted most of the women, and they’re beginning to hate me.

This one… Sophia has my cock standing at full attention. I masturbate remembering about how tight she was. So willing. Wanting me. Thumping my head back on the headrest, I wait for something else to happen, but it doesn’t. The show’s over. I second-guess getting out of the car and going to see her. It’s tempting, but it’s likely she’ll slam the door in my face and probably call the police—the main thing I have to rein myself in.

As my windows fog up from the heat radiating outwards, I snap myself out of my delusion, cranking the car, reluctantly driving off, and willing myself not to turn around and bang on her door.

You’re obsessed, and this woman has you off your game. If you’re not careful you’re going to end up falling for her, and you’re a Bratva boss.

Losing your head over a female is a dangerous act. With all the willpower and resolve I have in me, I press my foot to the gas and drive away.

Chapter Thirteen – Sophia

I didn’t believe the diagnosis from the doctor because I was given it only after two weeks and according to Google you can’t really tell if you’re pregnant after two weeks. I fretted and conducted my own version of tests from my last period.

You only slept with him once, you can’t be that fertile. I reckoned with myself back and forth but when I did the at-home pregnancy test, courtesy of the Walgreens drugstore, it confirmed what the doctor told me as I was leaving the jail. I’m having a criminal’s baby. I still didn’t want to believe it and the pressure of Dr. Perri telling me to abort didn’t help matters either.

I must have looked at the stick a hundred times wanting to change the result, but still the stick displayed a faint pink line down the middle of it. Racing back into the bathroom, I took a second test, deluding myself with the fact the line was faint, and it was too early of a detection to tell if I was pregnant.

For the next four weeks, I pretended to act normal at law school, hiding my secret from most of the world, including Ava, who I knew would tell me to do the exact same thing the doctor had and that was to get an abortion.

Now here I am with blue jelly on my tummy hearing the heartbeat of Andrei’s baby, not knowing if I want to keep it. Biting down on my lower lip, I gasp as I see the tiny fingers on the screen moving, incredulously wondering how the baby’s moving inside me. When I see it, deep emotions scale through me like a rushing river. Maybe I could keep it and not tell him. Maybe I have to move states or something and then I can keep it.

“Look! Can you see the head?” my doctor asks, pointing to the screen excitedly, but he quickly dials it down, remembering I haven’t decided about keeping the baby yet.

“Yeah, I can see it,” I say slowly, my response delayed due to my awe. “Is that thumping the heartbeat of the baby?” I ask.

“Yes. It’s a strong one, I’ll give you that,” the doctor mentions as I stare heartsick at the screen.

“Wow. I can’t believe that’s growing inside me,” I murmur quietly, even more confused about what to do.

“Speaking of which, have you thought any more about whether you want to keep the baby or not? Not to pressure you about the decision as it is an important one to consider, but you have up to twenty-three weeks in which to make a choice.”

Fuck. Twenty-three weeks. It all sounds so final. I know I can’t wait that late to have a baby growing inside me for twenty-three weeks and then make a choice. I’m going to have to make it sooner rather than later. The doctor rubs the gel further over my stomach. I’m not showing much, and if I didn’t have a pregnancy test, nobody would know I’m pregnant.

Seeing more of the baby only causes more internal conflict, so I turn my head away staring at the ceiling. “I haven’t made a decision yet, but I have all the pamphlets about my options and the best clinic to go to,” I reassure him.

“Good. Take a good hard think about your future, because once you do it, there’s no turning back,” he advises, causing a vague panic to set in.

“Thanks. I know. Is that all today? I think I’ve heard enough of the heartbeat. Everything healthy?” I snap, scared out of my wits.

“Yes. You’re in good health, and I’m going to give you a sheet of prenatal vitamins to take. I think they’ll really help you.”

“Brilliant. Thanks, doctor.” He wipes the gel off, the show over as I sit up and listen to more information about my next appointments.

“I will see you in a few weeks for your next appointment, and we can discuss your options then,” he concludes, the finality of my abortion decision looming for my next appointment date.

Leaving the clinic facing a blank canvas of uncertainty for my future, I head to my car. I’m meeting Christopher at a café, and it’s still mind-blowing that he wants to speak with me in the first place.

As I enter the bustling café, I search for him. He’s tall enough to stand out from everybody else, and I find a handsome man standing waving to me from behind a potted plant. The café is light and airy with more of a relaxed bohemian vibe, and instantly I find myself calming down a little.

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