Page 5 of Pregnant Bratva Wife
Literally, I didn’t haveone single interviewlined up. Not a single call-back.
The universe was having a grand old time watching me spiral, wasn’t it? I’d gone from having a decent job, a boyfriend, and an apartment to being jobless, single, and technically homeless in the span of twenty-four hours. If my life were a movie, critics would pan it for being too damn depressing.
“Any luck?” Chloe asked, emerging from her bedroom with her curly hair piled high in a messy bun, looking annoyingly put-together despite just waking up.
“About as much luck as The Titanic,” I scowled. “I’ve applied to everything from receptionist positions to dog walker gigs. At this point, I’d happily scrub toilets if it meant a steady paycheck.”
Chloe plopped down beside me and placed her arm over my shoulders. “You know you can stay here as long as you need, right? No rush.”
I forced a smile, even though my insides twisted with guilt. “I know, and you’re literally a saint for letting me crash here. But I can’t keep sleeping on your couch forever.”
“It’s only been three days,” she reminded me.
“I know, I know,” I sighed. “But I’m cramping your style.”
“You’re my best friend!” she protested. “You’remeantto cramp my style.”
“I just… don’t want to become a parasite, you know?” I admitted, my throat hurting from how helpless I felt. She snorted. “Please. After that time in college when I had typhoid and you spoon-fed me soup for a week? This is nothing.”
That was Chloe—always downplaying her kindness. But the truth was, I needed to get my shit together, and fast. She thought I didn’t know, but I’d overheard phone calls. She had forbidden her boyfriend from coming over to crash because she didn’t want me to feel uncomfortable. I mean, who even did that? I was putting her out, and she was acting like it was no big deal.
No matter what, this wasn’t a permanent solution.
In fact, it wasn’t even a temporary solution. It was just a painful one at best.
She probably saw the mental struggle on my face. “Hey, hey,” Chloe whispered, squeezing my shoulder as she watched me with concerned eyes. “Don’t worry, you hear? You’re my best fucking friend in the world. I’m going to help you for as long as you need. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said, knowing better than to argue. Chloe truly would have walked to the world’s end for me. But the truth was that I didn’t want her to have to do that. “I just need to get back on my feet, you know?”
“I’m sure you will,” she said, jumping off the couch. “Well, I’d better get dressed. Need to get to work.” She reached her door and then turned to me one last time and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “By the way, any word from the car guy?”
I groaned, covering my face with a throw pillow. “No,and pleasestop calling him that.”
“Okay,” she shrugged. “How about the glorious rich man you could call‘husband’ instead?”
“That’s the one,” I deadpanned, throwing the cushion at her. She laughed and slammed the door shut before it landed smack on her face.
I sighed and settled back into the couch. Talking about Federico Lebedev made my stomach do an uncomfortable flip. Of course, it had also been three days since I scratched his car and turned down the most absurd proposal I’d ever heard in my life. Ever since that bizarre encounter, every time my phone rang, my heart lurched at the thought that he might be calling to collect. To tell me how much I owed him.
And even though it wasn’t ever him, my mind kept replaying his insane proposition in my head at least half a dozen times a day.
I need a wife.
What kind of person proposes marriage to a complete stranger? A crazy person, that’s who.
Or maybe someone so obscenely wealthy and privileged that they’d forgotten how normal people went about thetradition of getting married. Maybe in their world, they want it, they get it.
“I still can’t believe you turned him down,” Chloe had said when I’d told her what had happened. “You said he was gorgeous, loaded, and practically offering you a get-out-of-jail-free card.”
“I’d basically be a glorified escort.” I rolled my eyes at her.
“With a platinum credit card and a diamond on your finger.”
I threw a pillow at her. “I have standards, Chloe!”
“Standards are great when you’re not about to be living in your car,” she had teased, but her smile softened. “I’m kidding. I get it. It was creepy. Hot, but creepy.”
I sighed and opened up my laptop again, ready for the next leg of applications. It was only a matter of time before he would call about that car. I had his number somewhere. Toyed with the idea of calling to ask how much I owed him. I definitely wasn’t going to run from my mistakes.
