Page 3 of Kidnapped Prisoner By the Bratva
What a coincidence!
I set my camera on the table, my neck rolling in a massaging motion while the chorus played in the background.
“So you can keep me
Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans
Holdin’ me closer ‘til our eyes meet
You won’t ever be alone….”
I took off my oversized shirt, wandering barefoot into the bedroom as I sang along. My hands flew behind me, fingers undoing the hooks of my bra, exposing my breasts.
I sang along, my voice barely above a whisper.
“And if you hurt me
Well, that’s okay, baby, only words bleed
Inside these pages, you just hold me
And I won’t ever let you go
Wait for me to come home….”
In my bedroom, I slid out of my jean pants—my panties too. A hot shower was what I needed right now to ease the stress of the day.
After showering, I slipped into an oversized V-neck sweater, its sleeves swallowing my hands and the hem grazing my thighs. I headed back out, sat in my swivel chair, and opened up my laptop. The scent of my perfume mingled with the smell of the cinnamon candle I forgot to blow out in the morning, filling the air with freshness.
This time, it wasn’t a music video playing on TV; it was the evening news. It didn’t matter, though. Any sound would suffice at this point, as long as it drowned out the noise from the other room. The last thing I needed was a distraction.
Then came the knock on my door, loud and persistent. “Hey, open up, I know you’re in there!” she called out from outside the corridor.
I blew a raspberry and rolled my eyes, knowing exactly who was behind that door. My best friend, Ravyn Jensen.
She banged harder. “Wren, don’t make me break this door!”
I laughed, strolling toward the entrance to grant my esteemed friend access to my place before she unleashed the kraken.
Her lips curled into a mischievous grin the moment I answered the door. “Finally.”
“You, my dear friend, are a pain in my ass,” I said to her, feigning being mad.
“Aww, I love you too.” She pushed past me and walked right in like she fuckin’ owned the place.
“Come on in,” I murmured sarcastically under my breath as I closed the door.
“Hey, did you know your neighbors are fucking as we speak?” She slid onto my couch with her shoes on.
I lowered my head, fingers rubbing my brows as I wondered how the hell I hadthatas a friend.
“Yeah, it’s—it’s kinda like a regular thing around here,” I answered, walking back to my desk.
“Oohh, live porn,” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows. “They should dial it down a little, though—they’re too loud even for me. It’s awkward.”
A soft chuckle escaped my lips.
Behind Ravyn’s sarcasm and sharp wit, there’s a sweet girl born into wealth who never quite fit in with her world. She was a billionaire’s daughter who chose a simple life as a fashion design student.
