Page 85 of Pregnant Bratva Wife
“Coming,” I said, jerking out of my near-dead position.
When I dragged myself to the kitchen, Beatrice was sliding a perfect omelet onto a plate. She looked up and smiled.
“You look better today,” she said, which was a polite lie.
I had done nothing more than brush my teeth and knew I looked like something that had been hit by a truck.
“I look like death warmed over,” I replied, collapsing onto a barstool.
“Well, more alive than yesterday.” She pushed the plate toward me. “Eat. Food helps.”
I stared at the omelet—fluffy, golden, sprinkled with herbs—and felt my stomach turn. But Beatrice had been so kind, taking me in without question, that I forced myself to take a bite.
“It’s good,” I said, even though for some reason eating made me feel sick. “Thank you.”
“Don’t be silly,” she waved me off. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“I promise I’ll start looking for a place soon. I can’t impose on you forever.”
Beatrice gave me a look that startlingly reminded me of her brother—a flash of intensity, a hint of stubbornness. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Beatrice—”
“No.” She held up a hand. “You’re like a sister to me, and you’re staying right now, and you need to stop with this threat of leaving. I’ve got more than enough space. I love having you around. And maybe someday you’ll leave, if he grovels enough and you decide he’s worth forgiving. But right now, you’re my roommate, and I don’t intend to be deprived of your lovelycompany because my brother couldn’t figure out how to court a woman like a normal human being.”
I almost smiled at that.
“He arranged everything,” I said quietly. “My financial problems. The threats. It was all him.”
“I know,” Beatrice sighed. “He told me everything. And trust me, I’ve torn him a new one over it. What he did was inexcusable.”
“But he’s your brother. Why are you being so nice to me?”
She looked surprised. “Because none of that was your fault. And because...” She hesitated. “I’ve never seen him like this. For what it’s worth—and I know it’s not worth much right now—I think he genuinely cares about you. You’re important to me, as is, but to him, too. He’s been calling every day, and I need to make sure you’re doing okay, or he might bite my head off.”
I scoffed. “He has a funny way of showing he cares.”
“The Lebedev men aren’t known for their emotional intelligence.” She took a sip of her coffee. “It’s like they learned how to express feelings from a manual written by a robot.”
Thatdidmake me laugh.
“There she is,” Beatrice smiled. “I knew you were still in there somewhere.”
I finished my breakfast in silence, trying to ignore the knot of emotions in my chest. I didn’t want to think about Federico caring. It made everything more complicated.
The next few days settled into a strange routine. Beatrice went to work while I stayed in the apartment, reading or watching mindless TV. She never pressured me to talk about Federico, but she didn’t shy away from mentioning him either.
A week later, I had just finished drying my hair when Beatrice knocked on my door, yelling, “Autumn, come out here. Now. It’s a surprise.”
I shut off the dryer. “Is it coffee?”
“Better.”
I padded out into the hallway barefoot—and stopped cold.
My sister stood in the doorway, a duffel bag at her feet, her face lighting up with the biggest smile I’d seen in months. “Surprise!”
I ran to her, nearly knocking her over with the force of my hug. She laughed, squeezing me back just as tightly.
