Page 9 of Stolen By The Bratva King

“I got your food right here,” she says. “Hungry, right? Me too, but you know Dante; he won’t let me keep food in, and I was supposed to eat with him when I got off work. So unless you’re sharing, I’ll stick with toast.”

Ah, it’s some kind of pet. If I listen closely, I might hear barking or?—

Wait. What the fuck did she just say?

Her bastard fiancé doesn’t let her keep food in her own home. The prick controls her life, but instead of spoiling her and meeting her every need and desire, he denies her basic necessities.

No way.Not while I’m here to look after her.

I return to my car and quickly call for a clean-up crew to come and shift the mess. Regrettably, that also means the van and its excellent equipment, but that’s okay—I can upgrade.

In the meantime, my girl needs some tender loving care. If what I overheard is any indication, she hasn’t had a decent meal in hours, if not days.

She’s been at work, saving lives. A bit of bread isnotit.

I start up my engine. Collecting takeout for an exhausted and beautiful doctor was not on my bingo card for tonight, but she’s hungry, and I know she likes ramen, so here I fucking go.

There’s always a chance she’ll have an appetite for more than noodles; if so, I’ll be glad to ensure she’s satisfied.

7

Emery

I’m doing chores when the knock at the door catches me off guard.

Who on Earth?And at this hour?

I peer through the spy hole and almost pass out in shock.

It’shim. The guy from the hospital.

My body reacts before my brain; my cheeks flush with heat, and my nipples harden, showing through my thin camisole.

I should be scared, but my first thought is that I wish I were more presentable. My pajama pants, tiny strappy top, and thick socks are not the stuff of seduction.

There’s little I can do except straighten my scruffy bun and hope the lighting is low enough to hide the worst.

God damn.Why is he here?

I open the door and hide behind it. I could have called the police instead and said I had a stalker outside my apartment, but the truth is, I didn’t even consider it.

The reason is shameful; he’s so ridiculously attractive, and he kissed me in a way that left me reeling. That doesn’t make him less dangerous, but it might explain my Dateline-level dumb-assery.

“You followed me home?” I ask, peering around the door. “That’s crazy. What makes you think you can just?—”

He holds up a takeout bag, and I catch the scent of warm noodles.

“I got one spicy miso and one shoyu,” he says. “Not sure which you’d prefer. But if you like both, keep one for tomorrow or share it with your…cat?” He looks over my shoulder. “Or dog, whatever it is. You have a pet, right?”

I frown. “I don’t. What are you?—”

“I could hear you talking to someone before I knocked.”

Oh no.What’s the best course of action here? Do I claim insanity—never a hard sell—or swallow my embarrassment and admit the sad, mad truth?

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was speaking to him,” I say, pointing behind me.

The stranger slides his eyes in the direction of my gesture and then brings them back to my face.

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