Page 18 of Captured By the Bratva

“You deny it?” Ivan asked.

“I… No. I supposed he was dating me. But it wasn’t real. It was…” I hung my head for a moment, hating that I had to relive this pain. “He was using me. Just to keep tabs on my father. He knew I was Steven’s daughter and he wanted to stay abreast of his actions.” I shrugged, wincing at the tension on my muscles after being tied up. “That’s all men do.” I glared at Ivan, emphasizing that he fit in that category too. “Men see me as a prop, a tool to get what they want. Steven has always seen me as a person to use and manipulate, but I never gave him the chance.”

That was a partial lie. I suspected something might be fishy from the beginning when Steven introduced me to Dom. But I’d been so excited for a sponsor and finding a wealthy person who seemed to care about my art that I got suckered in.

“I am not and never have been involved with anything Steven does. Dom either.”

My phone rang, buzzing in Dmitri’s hand. Both men looked at me, and I tensed.

It had to be Hannah. She had to be so worried that I hadn’t come home from work yet. She’d been with Emily all this time.

“Interesting,” Dmitri said. “This number seems familiar.”

What?That wasn’t interesting. It was odd. It wasn’t Hannah, then.

He glared at me. “Answer it.” Then he pressed theaccept callbutton and lifted it on speaker.

“Hello?”

“Becca.” A man I didn’t recognize spoke. “I’m calling from the Rossini offices.”

Dread coiled in my stomach. It had to be someone from Dom, reaching about custody, just like Steven had warned.

He cleared his throat. “Where is Emily, Becca?”

My pulse tripled. I blinked, unbalanced and weak with that one taunting question.

Emily.

The call was dropped. A beep sounded, signaling the disconnection.

My knees gave way as I dropped to the floor.

Emily!

She should have been safe with Hannah at home. She was supposed to be fine despite her father’s identity. All I ever wanted was to raise her with the love I never had myself as a child.

But I didn’t know where she was. I wasn’t home to see her and protect her.

I was here, caught in some twisted, confusing mess that couldn’t matter to me or her.

Terror streaked through me, chilling me from the inside out.

If that man knew to ask about my baby, Dom knew that she existed.

If that man knew to call me directly and ask about where she was… it implied he had a reason to assume she was missing, just like I was.

7

IVAN

Becca lowered her head, hiding behind her hands as she cried. No noises left her, but there was no missing how worked up she was. Her shoulders shook. Her long, red, wavy curls hung low, curtaining her face. Crouched over on the floor, she looked broken and wretched with the end of that call.

From a Rossini.

Dmitri caught my attention, gesturing toward the closed door behind us. I nodded, frowning at Becca breaking down on the floor. Staying in here with her would have left us with two options. Ignore her distress and demand answers or try to calm her down so she could speak clearly again. Neither of those appealed, so it wasn’t hard to leave her be, to give her a chance to collect herself as I stepped out with my brother.

Dmitri closed the door, but I reached over to lock it. She seemed upset, but for all I knew, it could be an act. She could be faking it and planning to use her tears and mood as a distraction to slip away.

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