Page 61 of Forced Bratva Bride

“Because...” I started, uncertain how to articulate all the mixed feelings. “Because even if you did meet with Dom to betray me, you're still...” Mine. That’s what I wanted to say, but it didn’t feel right under these circumstances. “You're still under my protection.”

Her laugh was weak but genuine. “That's the most backward apology I've ever heard.”

“It wasn't an apology.” But I found myself smiling slightly, the tension between us shifting.

“Liar.” Her eyes drifted closed. “You're terrible at being the bad guy, Giovanni Lebedev.”

I brushed a strand of damp hair from her face, taken aback by her kindness after all the ugliness that had spewed between us. “Rest now,” I said, moving to stand, but her hand caught mine.

“Stay.” It wasn't a question, but it wasn't a demand either. It was a request.

I hesitated for only a moment before slipping off my shoes and stretching out beside her on the bed, on top of the covers while she remained beneath them.

“I did meet Dom,” she whispered, eyes still closed. “But not to betray you. Never that.”

“We'll talk about it tomorrow,” I said, my voice rougher than intended.

Chapter 20 - Larissa

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as post-breakfast nausea returned for the third morning in a row. I grabbed a pillow and turned to my side, placing it between my legs and throwing one foot out to cool my body.

For three days now, I’d been stuck in my room with nothing to do but oscillate between feeling sick and feeling hurt. Gio’s hurtful words and accusations always lingered at the back of my mind. He thought I wasn’t trustworthy. He thought I’d betrayed him.

We needed to talk, I knew that. But I was so tired from all that had happened, that I allowed myself to ignore the inevitable for as long as I could. The truth was, I feared what more he could have said. I feared reliving that pain and hurt.

No matter what I did, it seemed he was intent on believing the worse of me.

Yet, at the same time, I knew he didn’t entirely hate me. Something still lingered within him, a rope of affection. It was that pull that caused him to come and go a few times a day as he checked on me between work, meetings, and calls. He always ensured that I ate. He offered to call the doctor.

He was doing everything in being supportive, but lacking the one thing I needed from him: trust.

For some reason, he too hadn’t brought up our argument. I knew he was waiting for when I’d feel better.

I tried to sleep, but sleep evaded me. My stomach was churning like a complete bender. I sighed and tried to sit up, but the dizziness washed over me again.

Just then, I heard a knock on the door.

“Come in,” my voice sounded weak.

Gio poked his head through the door, and upon seeing that I was presentable, walked over. He adjusted my pillow without me asking, and when his fingers brushed the back of my neck, I felt that familiar current.

But with it came a tight knot in my throat. I averted my gaze from his and for some reason, found nothing better than to stare at my hands.

“You need to drink more water,” he said, placing a glass on my nightstand.

“Mm-hmm,” I nodded.

“The maid said you threw up last night.”

“This morning too,” I said.

When I looked back at him, he frowned and reached to test my forehead. “No fever. You sure I shouldn’t call the doctor?”

“Maybe if I feel the same in a few more days,” I offered.

He nodded. “I’m heading into work now. See you in the evening.”

“Have a good day,” I said, lying back down as he left. He paused at the doorway and gave me one lingering look, as though there was so much more he needed to say, but walked out without another word.

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