Page 51 of Claimed Bratva Virgin

I glared because the rest of my words dried on my tongue. He was right, and I remembered why I was here in his house, lying on his bed in the first place.

When I looked again, it felt like years since the last time I saw him, although he looked the same. Maybe even more handsome than before. Now, in the light, I saw him more clearly. Tonight, he wore a simple pale grey shirt that clung to the ridges of his torso and black slacks that I considered sexy. His hair wasn’t gelled back like I expected it to be. It was more tousled, like he’d forked his fingers through it multiple times. Like he was stressed.

There were worry lines between his brows, small eye bags underneath those beautiful dark irises of his, and a constant frown on his lips. Somehow, this familiar image of him calmed my racing heart...and kickstarted the waterworks all over again.

He’d gotten a doctor to take care of me, had one of his maids prepare dinner for me, and ordered one of his men to wash my car because I’d driven it into a muddy puddle. I wasn’t sure how to handle all of this.

And like a broken dam, I let everything out again. Nose running, shoulders quaking, tears rolling—all of it. And it freaked him out, too. I noticed the instant tightness in his shoulders and the crease between his eyes, like he didn’t know what to do. But I knew what to do and what I desperatelywantedto do.

I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around his torso, burying my head deep into his chest. His scent hit me, forcing out more tears. God, I’d missed him. This was completely insane, but I’d missed this man so frigging much. And when he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer, I thought I would die from all the fuzzies floating up to my head.

“I swear, I didn’t know what to do. Everything was...everything just—my walls felt like they were caving inon me, and I couldn’t escape even if I tried.” It was an honest admission, one I couldn’t even admit to myself. I hardly remembered the last time anything frightened me, leaving me cornered and helpless.

I sniffled on his shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I was so scared, Rafa.”

He tensed, and I cursed under my breath. Shit. Where the hell did that come from? I called himRafa.Rafa!

“Shh, you’re safe now. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. If they try, I’ll fucking kill them with my bare hands.”

I knew he wasn’t bluffing.

We stayed like that in each other’s arms for a while, quiet and brooding. Being with him like this was absurdly warm and indeed made me feel safe and protected, like I was exactly where I should be.

Rafayel stroked the back of my hair with a gentle caress that warmed its way down my spine. And when he pressed a soft kiss against my forehead, my toes curled under the blanket.

“I like hearing that.” His voice was low. And it was his own honest admission. “I like hearing you call me Rafa.”

I pulled back because the sudden urge to have his lips on my mouth clouded the rest of my thoughts.

I could have stayed with him that way for years and not wanted to pull away, but that nagging voice in the back of my head reminded me that this was wrong—verywrong. And it hit me: the memory of the paper in my hand in Josè’s office.

I was pregnant for this man, this full-blooded Russian male, who was, unfortunately, a Yezhov. Who was, unfortunately, a man Papa would never accept. Any association with him, besides business, was doomed from the start.Thesemoments shouldn’t even be happening.

We were allies now, but how long was that going to last? Papa wanted them crushed to dust, and he wanted me to do it.We were rivals, enemies, destined to hate each other until the end of time.

Hugging this man and crying on his chest couldn’t even be a dream. Wanting—desiring to kiss him should have been a nightmare.

God.

I needed to leave here now.

“What—where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

I didn’t look him in the face. If I did, I’d be crying again, and those tears would have nothing to do with being scared. It would be tears of loss because, somehow, leaving this man made my heart stretch until it felt like it was ripping apart. Like paper dumped in a shredder.

“My father,” I choked out the only excuse I could give, holding back a lungful of tears while I painfully picked up my purse. “My father needs me. I need to go.”

The reverse was true. I needed Papa. Despite his illness, he had to know everything that had happened between me and Rafayel. I wasn’t sure how much longer the secret would stay with me.

Rafayel wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t press further. “Tikhon will take you home, and Vasili will follow from a distance in your car, just in case there’s someone on your tail.”

“Rafa….”

I did it again.

His lips made the slightest twitch when he came up to me. He moved his hands to my face like he wanted to touch me but withdrew like he had second thoughts. A shutter closed over his eyes, leaving them cold and unreadable before he walked to the door and said over his shoulders, “I’m not in the mood to argue with you. Tikhon’s taking you home, and that’s final.”

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