Page 49 of Knocked-up Bratva Bride
“No, there’s nothing you can say that’ll change my mind about how I feel. I feel dirty for betraying her like that. Last night was a mistake. Honestly, it felt good. Tremendously great. But that doesn’t make it right. I want to forget it. We both should. I can’t do this to Katya.”
There it was. That damn guilt, hanging heavy in the air like smoke, and my words were tumbling out of my mouth before I had a chance to process them.
“You have a right to fuck anyone, Elena.”
“That ideology might work for you. But for me? At the expense of my friendship withyourdaughter? No, Damien, I’ll choose Katya over and over again.” She looked up at me then,really looked. “She has been like a sister to me. I need you to let this go.”
I didn’t say anything.
My fingers curled into fists.
Let it go? Like I hadn’t replayed last night a hundred times, like it hadn’t been the only thing keeping me sane while my daughter lay broken in a hospital bed?
“I don’t let go, Elena.” I kept my voice even. “I try to provide solutions to problems. And this is a minor problem.”
“You’re joking.” She shook her head. “Minor?”
“What if Katya doesn’t have a problem with it?”
Her immediate silence showed she hadn’t been expecting that. She stared at me, lips parting slightly, but no words came. Silence stretched between us, pregnant with everything I couldn’t say. Her eyes shimmered with the threat of tears.
Then, her phone buzzed.
She blinked, looked down, then back at me.
“It’s Nana, my grandmother,” she said, tossing her empty cup into the wastebasket and folding up the blanket I asked Roman to give her.
“Elena…” I tried again.
“I need to be at home.” She didn’t look at me. Not when she grabbed her phone or moved away. “Thank you for the extra clothes and coffee. Have a good night, Damien.”
I watched her go, and every step farther carved something hollow in my chest.
Chapter 16 – Elena
After glaring at the half-empty spreadsheet on the screen of the laptop for over an hour, I groaned into my hands and massaged my temple. I was frustrated, exhausted, and hungry. The proposed marketing strategy I spent twelve hours, practically all night, working on was supposed to be ten sheets long.
Supposedto be.
Now, staring back at me were only eight sheets, and it was barely complete. Reason? I forgot to save the extra two before shutting the system down. But there was nothing else to do but move forward. So, I swallowed the aggravation, fought through the unnerving pressure, and began typing down the details I recalled.
And then, in the silence between keystrokes and the faint hum of the office AC, Katya’s name resurfaced in my mind. Like it had been doing for the past six weeks already.
The flashes returned—the scream, car noises, bruises, bloodied bandages, and worried doctors and nurses. Then on top of that, her father.
She still lay on that hospital bed, unconscious.
I didn’t go today, or yesterday. Or the day before that, or the day before….
I told myself I was busy. I even believed it for a moment. But the truth twisted quietly in my chest; I couldn’t bear to see her like that again. The tubes. The beeping. The sterile scent of fading hope. Every time I stepped into that room, something in me broke a little more. Something reminded me of my mother fighting for her life, too.
God knew I loved Katya. I loved both of them, but I wasn’t strong enough to see either of them in that state. Orhim,for that matter.
We hadn’t spoken since that night. The night when I’d almost let go again to the temptation of kissing him. The night when he’d asked me the most absurd question ever.
How on earth did he think Katya would take the news of us sleeping together?
Did he honestly believe she would smile and give me a pat on the shoulder for a job well done?
