Page 59 of Forced Bratva Hostage

“I know you saw me with Veronica,” I said, finally finding the words, my eyes darting toward her in the front passenger seat.

She faced me, staring in silence as if waiting for me to clear the air.

“It's not what it looked like,” I promised, heaving a sigh.

“She had her hands all over you,” Wren said, her brows rising as she kept her gaze hooked on me. “I guess it's pretty much what it looked like.” Arms were folded across her chest, her tone laced with a glimmer of jealousy.

“I can assure you, it's not,” I said, fingers combing my hair.

“So, she didn't have her hands all over you? She didn't dare to go down?” Wren's eyes darted to my groin, a faint scowl flashing across her face.

“Well, she did, but…” I said, my voice trailing off, frustration gradually creeping in.

She maintained a blank expression, watching me with an unwavering gaze.

“Look.” I let out a sigh, hesitating at first before clearing my throat. “Veronica used to be my…well, mistress…sort of,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck.

Silence.

I continued, my eyes locked on hers. “She came at me, yes. She tried to seduce me, yes.” I adjusted in my seat, leaning closer to her. “But I straightened her out on the misconception that I was still the same man she knew.”

“You’re not?” She squinted, her expression softening. Her voice was laced with curiosity.

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head with a subtle motion. “I'm not, Wren,” I said, sincerity dripping in my tone.

Her eyes crinkled at the corners as a small smile played on her lips.

“I don't know how you did it…but you changed me, Wren,” I said, my voice soft and tender. “You brought out a part of me that I never knew existed.”

Her shoulders relaxed, her posture open and receptive as her face gentled, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

“What you saw back at the party wasn't me being intimate with Veronica. It was the exact opposite of that,” I said, my heart swelling with emotions, a sudden thrill running through me. “That was me putting an end to whatever we had. I'm done with her, as I am with the other women around me.”

My brows rose at my declaration, surprise and tenderness mingling. A soft smile curved her lips, her eyes shining with compassion. “That means a lot, Afan.” She maintained eye contact, blinking casually yet erotically. “Can I ask you something?”

Her voice, so calm and gentle, melted my heart.

I nodded.

“Why did you save me?” She wouldn't take her eyes off me, her gaze boring deeper into mine like she was searching for something—the truth, maybe. “Why did you risk your life, knowing full well that you could die with me?”

I was silent, watching her. I sensed she wasn't done yet, and I was right. She wasn't.

“Did you do it because of the baby I'm carrying for you?” she concluded, her chest rising and falling subtly.

“I couldn't watch you die, Wren,” I said, my tone soft and compassionate, my gentle expression accentuating the emotions swelling within me. “You're too precious, and I can't lose you. I won't.”

“Why?” she questioned, her eyes locked to mine, her face etched with anticipation.

She was luring something out of me. Wren wanted to know my true feelings for her, and the desperation in her features couldn't be any more glaring.

Her body was tensing, her chest heaving slowly with heavy breaths as she looked at me, with emotions coloring her eyes.

I hesitated for a moment, savoring the unease and tension oozing out of her before leaning closer. “Because Wren…I love you, too.”

The words were spoken with a deliberate slowness, my eyes never leaving hers.

She swallowed, a bright smile spreading across her face, and soon an abrupt chuckle erupted from her lips. She leaned forward, tilting her head to show her ear with a hand over it. “I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Could you repeat yourself, please?” Her mouth twitched at the corners as if she was trying to suppress her grin.

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