Page 33 of Defiant Devotion

“No,” I whispered to myself. “I can’t trust him.” How could I trust the not-so-unfamiliar stranger when all we had between us was random, spontaneous sex?

And you.I rubbed my stomach, wondering if this touch could be felt by the baby somehow. This little one connected me to Ben, yet that wasn’t enough for me to want to run to him, if I even knew how to find him.

He’d pretended not to know me, and that wasn’t a great foundation for rekindling or starting a relationship.

He’s no one who has to matter. He can’t. He’s just a stranger I had the fluke luck to see twice.

And to fuck twice.

I winced, regretting that when I should’ve been thinking with my head and trying to find safety somewhere so I could think and plan my next steps, I’d been caving to carnal desire for him.

Another low and long cramp of hunger hit me, and I curled into more of a ball as I rolled to my side. “What is it?” I whined aloud quietly. “An empty stomach makes me feel sicker?” The urge to vomit hadn’t returned, but I wouldn’t be so easily duped.“Or a full stomach makes me more nauseous?” I couldn’t tell, and I swore this morning or afternoon or night sickness was something that would come and go as it pleased.

Giving up on staying in and waiting out this nausea, I got to my feet and forced myself to go to the nearest convenience mart and grab some peanut butter and bread. It wouldn’t be a balanced meal, but it would be more than vending machine junk that didn’t fill me.

As I dragged myself out the door, I counted the change and cash I had in my pocket. The irony of being so destitute was getting to me. I was Sonya Baranov, a Mafia princess. If I could figure out how to get home, I would—like that tween said in the diner—want for nothing.

Feeling as tired and weary as I did, I couldn’t fathom the headache of either walking to the mansion or convincing someone to drive me there.

Dammit.I had less than I thought. I wasn’t sure I had enough to buy anything.

Maybe I could manage the breadorthe peanut butter, but not both.

In the store, I browsed down the aisles, growing weaker, hungrier, and thirstier by the second. Focusing on the prices became a challenge, and I found myself blinking slower and slower as fatigue gripped me.

After I bumped into a cardboard stand at the end of the aisle twice, I felt the telltale burn of someone’s stare on my back. Spinning around, I caught the disgruntled woman behind the checkout counter glaring at me. Her brows were penciled in andarched so high with disdain, she looked villainous as she tracked my movements.

Fuck off.

I was in no mood for someone judging me. She could think I was some poor, wretched fool. She could criticize how unsteady I looked. But I lacked the patience to deal with having to speak to anyone.

A small smile stayed plastered on my face, though, because if I showed my true emotions of annoyance, that would only be fodder for her to dislike me and watch me closer.

Blending in and looking nonthreatening were the goals here. In and out. But dammit, why did there have to be so many different brands and kinds of peanut butter? And the variety of bread? The flavor didn’t matter, but I had to count on getting the biggest bang for my buck.

Once more, I stumbled. I took too short of a step over and smacked into the shelving unit. A couple of boxes of crackers fell. When I reached out to grab them before they dropped and the contents cracked, I sent a bag of chips flying off its spot on the rack too.

“Oh, come on,” I mumbled, furrowing my brow and trying to wake up so I wouldn’t be this clumsy.

“Hey!” The woman at the register rounded the counter and pointed at me. Stern and serious, she glowered at me like I was the worst excuse for a person on earth. “I saw that.”

“Huh?” I turned back and forth, looking at the items I’d knocked off to her approaching me. “I’m sorry. I’m putting it all back up and…”

“No! I saw you trying to put those things in your pockets.” She had her phone out, already lifting it to her ear for a call.

“What?” I scrunched my face. “What things?” I looked down at the big, voluminous bags of chips and crackers. How in the hell could any of this fit in a pocket?

“Don’t play dumb with me, girl. I saw you. I’ve been watching you since you came in here, acting all high and funny.”

“I’m not high.” I was tired, that was all. How dare she be so rude? I’d bumped into that stuff accidentally.

“Bullshit. You’re stealing those snacks and shit. You probably got more things under your shirt.”

“What!” I stepped back, bumping into the shelves again. “I am not stealing anything!”

“Don’t lie to me!” She kept her furious stare on me as she spoke on the phone. “Yeah. I need to report someone stealing from my shop.”

“No!” I put my hands up, trying to stop her from talking. Showing that I had nothing in my pockets didn’t change her mind. No matter what I said, how quickly and vehemently I argued with her, she didn’t end her call.

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