Page 31 of Captured By the Bratva

As long as Becca napped and rested, I could do my best to preoccupy Emily, and it seemed that walking around was all she wanted. To be held. To see the house and gaze out the windows. But always in my arms.

“No wonder she’s so tired,” I muttered to myself, looking again to make sure Becca rested.

For the first three weeks, I did my best to avoid being near the redheaded woman who tricked me into wanting something that could never be. Out here at the vacation home, it almost seemed domestic. Like she was my woman, my mistress, my whatever I wanted to call her. Justmine.

I couldn’t allow that kind of easement. I had to keep my guard up around her. I couldn’t forget that she’d only come into my life as a hostage. If she were any other woman, I wouldn’t have personally cared to stick around. Any other Bratva soldier would have done just as fine in my place. I could have arranged for anyone in the family to stand guard over her and Emily and make sure they stayed put under my control.

But I didn’t. This need to be near her and see her was a stubborn urgency I couldn’t tamp down. Even when I had the wisdom to step away and have a breather from her, I was drawn to return and know that she was here.

All those days blurred into an awkward tension until she’d cut her hand. Until that moment, I’d maintained a distance but failed to forget about her. That incident let me show her that I would try to help with Emily.

I hadn’t missed her expression of surprise. I would never forget how stunned and interested she was to see me try to comfort Emily, as though she’d dismissed me as someone who could never appease a fussy baby.

I was no expert. But the kid did quiet down, often staring at me with blunt wonder to the point she stopped crying. Or she’d babble and hum, swat at my chest and shoulders.

Becca said she was teething and that she was impatient to walk, not crawl. In a quiet moment the day after she cut her hand, she admitted that she felt like she’d trained Emily to always want to be picked up. But she didn’t care. She liked feeling needed and loved being able to cuddle her.

I understood what she meant. I felt like a king to calm Emily down, to pass her test.

While I almost felt like an idiot to lower my guard and go soft with the awareness of how hard it had to be for Becca to survive as a single mother, I couldn’t help but want to reduce some of the burden off her shoulders.

She wasn’t working. Her job was probably already replaced. But being a mother of a fussy babywasa job. A full-time one, plus the immaculate orderliness she maintained of the vacation house out here. Cooking, laundry, and even general cleaning up and dusting around the house.

Margie would take over. She’d fuss over Emily. She’d insist that Becca relax. And I looked forward to the woman finallyhaving a break and letting her body get over her slight illness, whether it was just allergies or a cold.

Walking with Emily made me sad, though, because I couldn’t help but wonder if my father or mother ever did this for me or my brothers. They’d doted on us. My father was a brave, generous man until Pavel killed him, but his duties were always priority over child-rearing. And my mother? She’d passed away so long ago, I hardly recalled her.

Who else doyouhave?I watched Emily as she rested against my chest, her eyes drooping as she grew sleepy.

My mother died too young and my father had been murdered too soon as well, but I never lacked for companionship. All four of my brothers were there for me, and they always would be. Under Alek’s leadership asPakhan, the Bratva returned to a family-oriented and cohesive unit.

Mila had married Alek. Amy was with Nik. Both women were bringing in the next generation of children.

And here, I could have a ready-made family within my reach. Becca and Emily. A wife and daughter. It didn’t matter to me who donated sperm for Emily to be born. It mattered who showed up in her life. Who held her as she fussed. Who fought for her safety.

Who am I kidding?

Settling down wasn’t a feasible option. Not for me. Being here out of the city was an illusion. This mansion wasn’t a home, but a vacation spot that the Bratva owned. I wasn’t here to play happy family and pretend that I could be an active parent to this baby. Becca wasn’t a guest here for any reason other than baiting Murphy.

Settling down? With Becca?

I shook my head and rolled my eyes as I continued to walk and lull Emily to sleep.

She would never wantme. Not really. Even though she’d shown me how readily and eagerly she could follow my lead sexually and come apart so beautifully in my arms, under my hand, and around my dick, I knew what happened there.

In the heat of the moment, she’d caved. At that precise opportunity, when she was vulnerable, shocked, and traumatized by all that had happened, she’d given in to me.

I’d manipulated her. I’d forced her so far, but in the end, she’d wanted it. She fought me, but not when I slammed my dick inside her. She’d been tied up, but she hadn’t struggled to escape my touch. The slickness of her pussy was evidence of how turned on she’d been when I took her roughly.

But for anything else? She’d be smarter to resist me. I was too hard of a man for someone as “normal” and nice as her.

I liked it hard, all the time. I preferred toys and bondage. Voyeurism and pain.

She’d struggled to last a handful of minutes at that club, and I wasn’t under any illusion that she could compromise to be more like me, to fit in with my depraved preferences and kinks.

Wanting her again but knowing how dumb it would be to act on it, I’d kept my distance. These three weeks had been a personal torture of knowing Becca was close but not for me.

And at this point, it gnawed at me when this tension and slowly building desire would snap.

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