Page 60 of Forced Bratva Hostage

I cackled, shaking my head. “I said I hate you,” I teased, using her own line against her.

“Oh, so that's how it is.” She laughed, revealing her perfect whites.

For a moment there, it seemed like time slowed down, so I savored the beauty of this amazing woman. I traced the gentle curve of her cherry lips, and then my eyes met hers, sparkling with mirth.

She pushed her hair behind her ear, her cheeks flushing. Her smile gradually turned solemn as she held my gaze. “Do you mean it, Afan?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity and desperation. “Please, don't tease me. It'll hurt me if this is a joke.” Her eyes misted.

“It's not,” I said, my tone dripping with conviction. “I meant every word, Wren.” The seat scrunched beneath me as I adjusted, edging closer. “This feeling is new to me, I agree. But I can tell you this: It's love.” My hand instinctively reached out to wipe the lone tear trickling down her cheek.

She stared deeply into my eyes, searching for any hint of deceit or insincerity, but I was certain she wouldn't find any because there wasn't any.

“I love you, Wren,” I declared without breaking eye contact. “I love you.”

It felt strange that those words came out of my mouth. It was unbelievable, and I never thought I would ever say them genuinely to anyone. Yet, here I was, confessing my feelings like a teenage boy declaring his love to his high school crush.

Without a moment of hesitation, she stretched forward and slipped into my arms in an uncomfortable hug, considering our positions in the car.

I wrapped my arms around her neck, inhaling the sweet blend of her perfume and the scent of the car's expensive leather. I heard her release a deep sigh of relief at the same time I did.

“Hey, are you dumb or stupid? Green means go!” a driver barked, blaring his horn, his voice dripping with frustration and impatience.

People had lost their lives over far lesser forms of disrespect, but I was willing to let his arrogance slide. He was lucky I was in a good mood this evening, or else he would have lost that sharp tongue of his.

“He's probably drunk,” Wren said softly, giggling as she stole a glance at his vehicle through the rearview mirror.

I scoffed, started the engine, and drove away, my heart filled with this alien feeling of sheer delight.

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I pulled over in my expansive compound, opened the door, and glided to the other side to help her with the door. Her lips curved into a beautiful grin as she took my hand, her heel resting on the pavement, her gown's long slit revealing her alluring thigh.

“Such a gentleman,” she whispered, smiling to her ears as her eyes sparkled with excitement.

She exited the car, and I shut the door behind her, extending my arm with a wide smile. She locked hers in mine, giggling as we headed into the house.

Mary and Martha were cleaning the living when we arrived home, arms interlocked with uncontrollable smiles on our faces. Both maids paused, their jaws literally dropping as they stared at us with widening eyes and rising brows.

“What?” I asked, watching them stare, breathless.

“Nothing, sir,” Martha replied, scratching the back of her head and clearing her throat. “It's just…. This isn't something we see all the time.”

“It's a good thing!” Mary chipped almost immediately, her voice laced with excitement and her smile broadening by the second.

I arched my brows, shifting my gaze across the two of them, each lowering their eyes, cackling in silence.

Wren chortled softly, her hand flying to her mouth as if trying to curtail an outburst of laughter. She exchanged hidden glances with them, giggling, her cheeks flushing. And with the way Mary and Martha looked at her, I could swear that there was a secret message being passed between these women. Despitethe unspoken words, they seemed to understand one another, like they shared some kind of telepathic connection.

It must be awomanthing because that was the only logical explanation behind this silent communication—a kind that transcended words, yet an unspoken language flowed between them.

“Get back to work, will you?” I asked the maids, my tone mild and a little playful.

They chorused, “Yes, sir,” their heads bowed slightly, bodies trembling as they tried to suppress their cackles.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, a dismissive laugh escaping my lips. “Come on,” I said to my wife, leading her upstairs.

As we ascended the stairs, I could still feel their gazes lingering and hear their muffled giggles. At the head of the steps, I asked my wife, “What wasthatabout?”

She looked at me and casually shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing….”

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