Page 35 of Innocent Bratva Hostage

I’d been so naïve.

The tears now streamed down my face as memories of our night together came flooding back. I’d given my virginity and everything to a man who only wanted to use me.

I let out a quiet, broken chuckle as I stared down at the tray of pancakes I was holding. I was even stupid enough to make him breakfast like I was his wife or something.

All the while, I was nothing to him.

Nothing but a pawn in his game of chess.

My blood boiled, rage simmering beneath the surface. My heart throbbed between devastation and fury as I set the plate on the console by the side of the office.

I stared at the office door for a moment; it was the barricade between me and the man who made a fool of me.

I wiped my face.

An asshole like him didn’t deserve my tears.

He was never going to get anything out of me ever again, not my body and definitely not the shipment he was crazy about finding. It was a promise I made to myself. I was never going to be fooled by him again.

Lifting my chin, I squared my shoulders and walked away.

Chapter 14 – Andrei

The house felt eerily quiet when I stepped out of my office. It was almost seven p.m., and I’d worked so much that I skipped breakfast and dinner.

I also hadn’t caught a glimpse of Giselle despite being in the same house, which was unusual. As much as she was avoiding me, I’d usually see her hurrying upstairs or to the garden outside or find her fast asleep when I came home from work.

But I had been so buried in work that I hadn’t even stepped out until now.

I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I saw the food arranged on a console near my office door. There were pancakes topped with berries, honey, and sour cream on the side, which was strange because Miss Pushkin wouldn’t leave my food outside the office, especially uncovered, and she wouldn’t serve me this for breakfast or lunch.

There was a cup of black coffee next to the pancakes. I liked my coffee hot enough to burn the tongue, but seeing as there was no steam pouring from it, I guessed it had gone cold.

I lifted the tray and inspected the food on it.

Yeah, the coffee was room-temperature cold, the pancakes had dried out, and the berries were soft from being left outside the fridge for long.

Whoever left the food here must have done so hours ago, and it definitely couldn’t be Miss Pushkin or any of the maids. Unless it was—

Giselle.

It had to be her, but why would she bring food to me only to abandon it outside my door?

Dread crept into my chest as the pieces started to click together. Seeing as it was breakfast, she’d brought it earlier, and then she must have overheard my conversation with Egor.

Shit, that was it.

She’d left the food out here in rage over what she heard.

I needed to find her and explain things.

I set the food back on the console and hurried to her room, swinging the door open and striding in. “Giselle?”

She wasn’t on her bed or in the bathroom. She was probably in the kitchen or the living area; at least, I hoped she was.

I jogged down the stairs and made my way to the living area. She wasn’t there either.

Miss Pushkin was making dinner when I entered the kitchen. The air smelled like beef curry.

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