Page 47 of Captured By the Bratva

I thought back to how I’d met her, how I’d found her so bewildered and alarmed, yet intrigued at the club when I’d arranged for her to fall into my hands with that delivery.

Becca was too good to ever want to come to a club like this. She was too innocent and wary to ever approach me with seduction as her intention.

I wanted that redheaded beauty to be here, eager for me to tie her up again and take her sweet pussy hard.

But it wouldn’t happen. We were too different, and that alone should’ve been a reminder that we’d never work. That she’d never succumb to a hard life like mine andwantme.

“Hmm?” Veronica asked, pawing at me.

Her touch and presence didn’t interest me. She did jar me from the wishes to have Becca here, and I was motivated to do whatever was necessary to get back on the road and see her. Even if I wouldn’t act on my desire for her, I was a glutton for punishment to want to be near her in that vacation villa, to feel peaceful with the fact that she was safe and close by.

“All right.” I narrowed my eyes at Veronica. I had no intention of playing with her or anyone else in this place, but the sooner I heard her out and asked her what the hell she wantedfrom me, the faster I could return to the woman I wanted and couldn’t have.

18

BECCA

Iwas disappointed but not surprised when I didn’t see Ivan the next day. He’d left me so suddenly in Emily’s room that I could only assume he judged me for having the baby of his enemy.

Or maybe he thought less of me for “letting” myself get raped. I was the victim in this, but who knew? Maybe from his perspective, I was an idiot to ever get involved with Dom to be in the position of his raping me.

I didn’t have that perspective about it, but Ivan’s abrupt departure from the room was telling.Somethingbothered him to walk away like that, without a single response to what I shared. I wasn’t deluding myself to think he’d react with overwhelming sympathy. He was a hard man who lived a hard life. But still, he could have at least tossed adamn, that sucksremark to ease the sting of bringing up the difficult topic.

All I got was avoidance. He was, again, busy with something for the Bratva. However, I wasn’t alone. Margie was a blessing, and while I couldn’t get over how good she was with Emily, entertaining her as she showed me a recipe for cookies that she swore would brighten any gloomy day, I debated asking her for advice.

I didn’t want to tell her about how I was raped either. That wasn’t a story to broadcast all over the place, and likely not appropriate to tell a virtual stranger, the hired help who’d just shown up.

She beckoned me towantto speak up. I had no girlfriends to count on for advice. My mother had died too soon, probably due to Steven’s plans. My grandmother was the only semblance of female companionship, and she’d passed too soon as well. At work—the courier job I was no doubt fired from upon my first no-call, no-show—I had coworkers to do small talk with, but no confidants. No friends.

“This rainy weather isn’t all that’s dragging you down today, is it?” Margie asked as we stirred the dough. Two batches were her goal. We’d have one here for ourselves and the guards, then more to have Ivan bring to his brothers in the city the next time he went.

I didn’t know much about Mafia organizations, and it seemed silly that they could be normal people who enjoyed a basic treat like homemade cookies.

“What do you mean?” I blew out a breath to send my hair flying up and out of my vision.

“You seem upset.”

I shrugged, glad Emily was napping so I could have an adult conversation. “I don’t like being idle.”

She smiled. “Well, good thing we have this task of baking cookies. Do you miss your job?”

I shook my head. “No. Not really. It was just a dime-a-dozen thing that never would have ended up in a higher pay.”

“Family, then?”

I bit my lip, considering what to tell her. She was in deep with the family, but I wasn’t sure if she knew what Ivan was doing. I had a hunch she was ever present in their lives but didn’t involve herself withwhatthey did.

“Well, Ivan’s hoping to kill my father, who likely arranged for my mother’s death. And my grandmother passed away years ago.”

She nodded, somber. “Is she the one who made that?” Her spatula pointed at my necklace. “I notice you like to touch the pendant often.”

I did then, smiling. “Yes. It’s special to me, all I have to remember her by.”

“It’s beautiful.” She leaned in to see it closer as I held it up, but as I lifted it, the chain snapped. “Oh, crap. Emily’s been tugging on it so often. I knew that would happen sooner or later.”

“Oh, no worries,” Margie said as I set the necklace on the window ledge. “I have a spare chain in my bag. I don’t use it. I think it’s gold, not silver, but it’s yours if you’d like.”

“Thanks.” She was too sweet.

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