Page 28 of Plus-Size Bratva Bride

Pippa’s eyes widened in surprise, brows furrowing. “With you? Are you joking?” Her disbelief was palpable, mixed with a tint of defiance.

I moved closer. "It’s not up for debate, Pippa. I need to watch over you, at least until we get to the bottom of this mess. Even the strongest of us need backup sometimes.”

She looked up at me with a cocked eyebrow. "And you're my backup?"

"Whether you like it or not," I replied with a simple shrug.

Pippa rolled her eyes, but I caught the ghost of a smile on her lips. "God help me," she muttered.

“It’s the only option you’ve got to avoid a potential torture chamber,” I reiterated.

Her lips parted as if she wanted to argue further, but something must have made sense in her internal dialogue because she eventually relented, resignation settling in.

“Fine,” Pippa said quietly. “But don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

For the first time that day, a grin spread across my face. "Wouldn't dream of it, Sweetheart. You're far too stubborn for that."

Chapter 11 - Pippa

I couldn't stop fidgeting with the hem of my skirt while Abe's sleek black car glided through the city streets. The leather seat felt too warm, too confining, as if it was trying to swallow me whole. My mind raced faster than the speedometer, grappling with the reality that I was about to move in with this man.

Move in!

"You're awfully quiet over there." Abe's deep voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. He looked over at me for a moment before returning to the road.

I forced a smile, hoping it didn't seem as strained as it felt. "Just… processing."

He nodded, his tattooed hands flexing on the steering wheel. "It's a big change, I know. But it's necessary."

Necessary. Right. Abe is only doing his duty to protect me. I tried to focus on that word, to remind myself that this was about safety, not… whatever had happened between us last night. The memory of our bodies naked, intertwined, sent a shiver down my spine that I desperately tried to suppress.

It was a one-night stand, nothing more. And now? I was moving in with the first and only man I’d ever slept with. It was as awkward a situation as could get.

What if, when we were together in his home, things got heated? What if I wasn’t able to see through his real intentions? What if he only wanted to hook up with me again?

I swallowed hard, watching the familiar buildings of my neighborhood blur past the window as I remembered how his eyes went dark when he thrust into me. He was so lost in me,and I in him, that the world had ceased to exist and nothing else mattered.

He had lost control and if he lost it while we lived together, I don’t know what would come of it. I shuddered and turned to put on some music to distract myself.

The what-ifs existed, alright, but they served no purpose. Yes, I did not want to be confined in the same place as Abrahim Ustinov. Yes, he needed me to live with him to protect me. Yes, last night was fun but only a one-night stand.

And everything else was conjecture. Anything else that could happen, would. And there was no point losing my mind over it.

This was about safety, I reminded myself. Just safety. Yet I couldn't help but wonder if we were both lying to ourselves about what this really meant.

***

I stepped into my apartment, the familiar scent of vanilla patchouli and old books hitting me like a bittersweet embrace. My eyes lingered on the countless memories scattered throughout the space—photos, trinkets, the worn-out armchair where I'd spent countless nights curled up with a good book.

"Just the essentials, Pippa," I muttered to myself, trying to shake off the melancholy.

My fingers traced the spine of my favorite novel, debating whether it qualified as essential. I tossed it into my bag anyway, along with a framed photo of my parents. Some things were too precious to leave behind.

As I packed, my gaze kept drifting to the window. Abe stood down below with his attention switching between my apartment and the surroundings, leaning against his sleek black car. Even from this distance, I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes never stopped moving.

I found myself pausing, watching him. He pulled out his phone, brow furrowing as he typed rapidly. A moment later, he was scanning the street again, blue-gray eyes sharp and alert.

"Get a grip, Pippa," I chided myself, forcing my attention back to packing. "He's just doing his job."

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