Page 4 of Captured By the Bratva

Steven Murphy never called to check in. Or see how I was doing. The fact that he called back to back without a pause meant he wanted something.

What’s new?He always wanted something.

“Hey, Becca,” he answered quickly, stuffing enough charm to make it seem like a personal call. He didn’t give a shit about me. I wouldn’t be conned. Not by him.

“Are you busy?”

I looked around the gallery, smiling in case anyone saw me. “Yes.” No one was here to speak with me about my art, but I clung to the chance that someone could.

“I need you to come to my place and talk about reaching out to Dom.”

I blinked. Then blinked some more, wondering if I misheard. “Dom?”

“Yeah. Dominic Rossini,” he replied snarkily. “Don’t tell me you forgot about your boyfriend already.”

Dom never reallywasmy boyfriend. He’d tried to act like one, but he never cared about me like a real significant other would have.

“He contacted me, wanting to talk about custody for Emily.”

I snorted, shaking my head and losing the smile for the crowd here. There was no chance in hell I could mask this scowl. No one was looking at me, anyway.

“The hell he is,” I retorted. My dad calling me to arrange a discussion wasn’t a bizarre thought. I’d met Dom through my dad. But his claim was bullshit. “Dom never acknowledged Emily. He was never even aware that I was pregnant.”

I didn’t give him a chance to cajole me any further. Anger rose too quickly and hotly. “What do you want, Steven?”

Calling himDadnever happened. He wasn’t a father figure, so it hadn’t even felt natural to refer to him as such.

“Well, first to see how you’re doing and all…” His tone fell into that cunning, persuasive sugariness, and I rolled my eyes.

I was far too used to his lies to fall for this. “What do you want?” I repeated bluntly.

“I just want to see how my baby girl is doing.”

“No, you don’t.” I was calling his bluff.

“Listen, I’ve got a lot of things going on with work.”

Like I haven’t heard that excuse before.

“And I feel like I’m not available for you like I want to be.”

You never have.

“I feel guilty about being such a workaholic.”

“I don’t have time for this.” I was too jaded to be patient and give him a chance. “I’m hanging up.”

“Fine. Wait.”

I shook my head, so bitter that I considered changing my number. Actually, I had done that before, when I was eighteen and wanted to cut all ties with him when he asked me for money. As a cop, though, he’d found me anyway.

“I need you to go to this sex club and ask for someone for me.”

I snorted. “What?”A sex club?“No way.”

“I can’t go myself. I’d be recognized as law enforcement in that crowd.”

I didn’t even want to put the idea of my father and a sex club together.Eww.

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