Page 47 of Plus-Size Bratva Bride

I closed my eyes, letting the memories wash over me. "I was young when they passed, but I have certain memories. Or feelings, rather. Sunday mornings were sacred in our house. Dad would make these ridiculous pancakes—he'd try to shape them into animals, but they always ended up looking like blobs. Mom and I would laugh so hard, but we'd eat every last bite."

My voice cracked slightly, but I pressed on. "They taught me to be strong, but they also showed me how to be kind, how tolove fiercely. They never meant to teach me that, but I learned it from how they loved one another."

I opened my eyes to find Abe watching me intently, his expression unreadable. "They sound like amazing people," he said quietly.

"They were," I whispered, wiping away a stray tear. "I miss them every day."

Abe was silent for a long moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and raw. "My mother… she wasn't as lucky as yours."

I turned to face him, surprised by the vulnerability in his usually confident demeanor.

"Our father," he continued, his eyes fixed on the horizon, "he was a cruel man. Drunk most of the time, violent when he wasn't. My brothers and I… we learned to be quiet, to stay out of his way. But our mother, she bore the brunt of his rage to protect us."

My heart ached for the pain in his voice, plummeting to my stomach. I felt angry at his father, for having done that to a woman who raised such an amazing son. I reached out, hesitantly placing my hand over his. He didn't pull away.

"She tried to protect us, you know?" Abe's voice was barely above a whisper. "Even when she was bruised and broken, she'd smile and tell us everything was okay. But we knew. We always knew."

I squeezed Abe's hand gently, feeling the roughness of his calloused palm against my softer skin. The contrast was stark, much like the differences in our upbringings, yet in this moment, we were connected by shared pain and understanding of loss.

"Abe," I murmured, my voice catching slightly. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that.”

He turned to me, his eyes intense with a mix of vulnerability and strength I'd never seen before. "It's why I am who I am today," he said, his thumb absently tracing circles on the back of my hand. "Why I fight so hard to protect those I care about. I couldn’t save her, you know? One night, in a fit of rage, he shot her dead. I was watching them fight, but Ivan took me and Vlad away from the scene. I heard him kill her.”

Tears welled in my eyes as I listened to his harrowing story, the unimaginable cruelty of his past hurting me in the present. Without a second thought, I wrapped my arms around Abe, offering whatever solace I could give. His frame stiffened at first, unaccustomed to such tenderness, but eventually, he melted into the embrace, his walls crumbling further with each hitched breath he took.

"I get it," I whispered. "After losing my parents and being raised by an aunt and uncle who pointed out every mistake I ever made, I threw myself into work, into being perfect. It was my way of protecting myself."

Abe nodded, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "We're quite the pair, aren't we?"

I couldn't help but laugh, the sound breaking the tension. "God, we really are."

For a long time, we held onto each other in that quiet corner of the graveyard, where the only sounds were those of the night.

***

The weeks that followed were a whirlwind of stolen moments and growing closeness. Movie nights where Abe's arm would casually drape over my shoulders, his fingers playing with my curls. Coffee runs where he'd tease me about my elaborate order, but always remembered it perfectly.

There were quiet evenings in his office, where I'd catch him watching me over stacks of paperwork, his gaze soft and warm. A few mornings, I felt too sick. Got some food poisoning, perhaps? For those few days, he’d bring me breakfast in bed and insist I stay home. He covered for me at the casino.

One particularly memorable night, we found ourselves caught in a sudden downpour while we walked through his estate. Abe pulled me under an awning, both of us laughing as we shook water from our clothes. He reached out, gently tucking a wet strand of hair behind my ear. The touch sent shivers down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold rain.

With each passing day, I felt the walls I'd built around my heart slowly crumbling. Abe, in all his tattooed, pierced, suit-wearing glory, was becoming more than just my boss or even a friend. He was becoming someone I couldn't imagine my life without.

***

Three weeks later, as I sat at the breakfast table at his house all alone, with everyone having had an early start to the day, I rubbed my temples for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. The dull throb behind my eyes had been persistent for days, but I'd chalked it up to eye strain from late nights working. I blinked hard, trying to focus on the newspaper in front of me.

"You okay there, Pippa?" Abe's deep voice startled me. I hadn't heard him approach. “We’re going to run late for work.”

I looked up to see him fully dressed, leaning at the doorway, and then realized I was still in my pajamas.

“Oh shit,” I gasped, rising to my feet. A wave of dizziness came over me, and I sat back down. “What time is it?”

My voice was weak, but I plastered on a smile when he rushed over to my side, his hands reaching out to check if I was okay.

"I’m fine. This new hiring cycle has been tiring, that’s all.”

Abe's eyes narrowed, his gaze sweeping over me. "You're pale. And you've barely touched your coffee."

---