Page 20 of Knocked-up Bratva Bride
If I could, I would pinch myself from the immense shame I felt after freely granting him access to trample on myvulnerability and, worse, how I couldn’t shut off my brain from replaying his handsomeness.
The moment I saw his entire figure under the light, one look should have been enough to convince me that Damien was far beyond my leaguein every way.
The faint lines etched between his forehead and his masterful kissing skills told of his life’s experience being, maybe ten to twelve years ahead of mine. And where physical looks were concerned, his attractiveness came hard, like the Russian that freely flowed off his tongue.
It was far more advanced than Peter Pan’s cuteness, and now I was left to manage my crush on a creation that even a taller version of Henry Cavill couldn’t compete with.
Broad, powerful shoulders. Firm, defined muscles. Short, dark hair reminiscent of classic medieval times. And intriguing tattoos that sparked my curiosity.
The man was literally every woman’s wet dream.
If we’d risked having another kiss session, the heavens knew keeping my virginity would have been the least of my concerns seconds later.
I wanted to tell somebody about him. Somebody who was preferably Katya, but I hadn’t seen her before I left the Gipsy and assumed she went home with the cute man from the bar. It wasn’t Katya’s style to follow strangers home, but she seemed to be really into him, so the thought wasn’t far-fetched.
On the stove, the kettle whistled, and I started brewing the coffee when a rapt knock startled me. It was past midnight, and I never entertained visitors at odd hours. With the crazy crime stories that flew around the city, who would?
Swiftly, I grabbed a spatula and padded toward the door, standing at arm’s length to open it.
Katya breezed inside, trudging to the sofa with almost no regard for me by the door. I had never seen her look sodisheveled and upset before. The Katya I knew was a warrior. She was resilient, feisty, and never a blubbering, sobbing mess.
That was not the case now. She was shaking like a leaf and crying hysterically. Two streams of black mascara smudged her cheeks, and her hair seemed to have housed birds for a short while. Seeing her like this left me feeling utterly helpless.
She hiccupped and buried her face in her hands. “Lena, I…I need you.”
I rushed to her side and hugged her to my chest, soothing her.
“Hey, hey…shh, come here. Kat, what’s wrong? What happened? Was it….” I swallowed. I didn’t want to, but my mind had already begun conjuring the worst possible scenarios that could have thrown her in such a devastated state.
“Was it that man from the bar? Did he do something to you?” I whispered.
I was no lawyer, but I was sure Kat had an army of them that would rise up to defend her if something terrible happened. And if all the help I could offer were to scratch someone’s eyes out, then I would do it in a heartbeat for her.
Kat shook her head, and I released a brief sigh of relief. No lawyers, court, or threats of prison. Great.
“No…no, it wasn’t.” Katya raised her face and looked at me, her eyes red and bubbles of snot running down her nose.
I reached for the Kleenex on the centerpiece and handed the box to her while she talked.
“It was him.” She paused, blowing her nose. “It was my father. He’s back.”
She burst into another round of tears, and I did the only thing I could: I held her tight and tried to comfort her, although I knew nothing I did in this moment could take her pain away.
“For more than eleven years, Lena, I haven’t seen him, and then he chose to show up in the place I least expected. Can you imagine? The club, while I was dancing with Liam!”
If that dance had continued like anything I imagined after I left the two of them alone, then the sight of a father watching his daughter immorally grind against a stranger was certainly not the ideal welcome-home gift he expected.
I shook off the cringeworthy feeling and focused on comforting my friend.
“I don’t know what to do. I’m not sure how to handle this. I thought I’d be fine if I ever saw again, but it’s like all the anger I kept bottled in came rushing back to the surface. I’m so hurt and confused….”
Almost everyone close to Kat was aware of the complicated relationship she had with her father, but she withheld details when it came to discussions about him. It had been that way since high school, so I didn’t know the background story behind their fractured relationship, but knew enough to notice the contented resentment she had toward him.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered into her hair, holding her tighter and stroking her back. “I’m so sorry.”
The rest of the night was spent hugging and softly talking Katya to sleep. She lay on my lap, and there was a subtle ache in my chest as I watched her chest rise and fall slowly. This was due not only to her hurt but also to the realization that I hadn’t been grateful enough for having Jaz and Nana to support me through my mother’s illness.
Katya’s mom was gone. She was the only child. And her father, who should have been her superhero, was the same person causing her such heartache.
