Page 41 of Virgin Bratva Hostage

Avraam is looking at me as though I’ve lost my mind.

“Hello,” he says, eyeing me up and down, looking confused.

“Did you have a nice day?” I ask, trying to sound as normal as possible to make up for how stupid I sounded earlier.

“It wasn’t a bad day. I got a lot done. How about you?” He walks around me, still looking at me with narrowed eyes, and heads towards the kitchen.

I follow him, chatting nervously about nothing at all.

I watch while he pours himself a whiskey and throws two blocks of ice into it.

“Do you want one?” he asks.

“Sure, thanks,” I nod. A drink will definitely help calm my overly jittery nerves.

I take a deep breath, trying to force myself to let go of the tension I was holding onto all day.

There is so much fear simmering beneath the surface of my thoughts—but I can forget about that now because Avraam is here—I know I’m safe.

He hands me a crystal glass, filled with golden liquid. “Thank you.”

“Are you going to join me for dinner?” he asks, sipping his drink and leaning casually against the kitchen counter.

I nod, “Yes, I’d like that.”

“I’ve ordered takeout. I hope you like Asian. I ordered a mix of things, so hopefully, there is something in there that you like.”

“I love Asian food. All of it,” I grin, tilting my head to the side and shrugging at the same time.

After this morning’s incident between Avraam and I—and then this afternoon's incident with Royce catching me off guard—I kind of just want to go to bed and pretend like today never happened—but dinner with Avraam will be nice. Maybe it will distract me from my own thoughts.

“The food will be here in about five minutes. Do you want to grab some plates and take them through to the dining room?”

“Yup,” I say enthusiastically.

I carry plates and cutlery through and set the table nicely while Avraam answers the door and one of his security guys hands him the box with our dinner.

He brings the whole thing into the dining room and sets each box on the table. Opening them one at a time, he spreads them out in front of me. “There you go. Choose whatever you want,” he gestures over the assortment.

I bite my lip.

Why do I feel so awkward today?

Dishing up a few different things, I sit down and instead of taking the fork, I grab the bamboo chopsticks that got delivered with the food.

He chuckles, “I could never get those things right.” He gestures towards the chopsticks, picking up his own fork once he’s dished up for himself.

“Oh, it’s actually really easy—I guess once you get the hang of it.”

“All I manage to do is pick up one noodle at a time and make a mess.”

He grins at me and I feel my cheeks flush pink.

Dammit.

Why does he have to be so gorgeous?

He’s not interested in being with me.

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