Page 80 of Born in Depravity

Her expression told me she never thought I would have let her go in the first place. That was probably true. We never thought about what we would do once her father declared war on us. We just needed to make that so. But to let her go?

That wasn’t possible.

Her chest pushed in and out in harsh pants, drawing my eyes to her tits once more.

She had small breasts.

Smaller than what I was used to with women, but they were perky, and just enough for my hands to cover.

Just when I was about to move my hands again, a knock on the door interrupted us. I let out a small sigh. “That’ll be our breakfast. Are you hungry, pet?”

She bit her lip but didn’t say anything. I kept my expression neutral, hiding my amusement over the obvious relief in her eyes.

She was stuck in the room with me. What did she have to feel relief about? I would devour her whole and if she was a good little pet, she would say thank you at the end …

Or write it.

I placed her back on the bed, grabbed the blanket I had thrown on the floor moments before, and covered her up. No one was going to see her save for my brothers and me.

She watched me as I tucked the blanket around her slender body.

Usually, I had no problem reading her facial expression, but there was something unreadable about her now, drawing my curiosity.

I had a feeling everything she did would draw my curiosity.

I walked to the door, unlocked it, and opened it to Maria, the housekeeper here.

I didn’t know how long she had been with Alyosha Petrov, but I knew she wasn’t here willingly. She was smart, though, and she knew not to stick her nose in places where it didn’t belong.

She was unassuming in every sense of the word, and didn’t draw any attention to herself.

Probably one of the reasons she had lasted this long.

I had her pegged as in her early forties. She didn’t make eye contact with me when I moved aside for her to enter.

She rolled the breakfast cart quietly into the room, then left the same way.

I waited a beat before I closed the door and turned to Catalina, still sitting on the bed in the exact same position I had left her. Her big eyes watched me.

I pulled the cart with me on the way to the bed and sat. Ignoring the squeak in protest—or surprise—coming from her when I grabbed her, I placed her on my lap. I removed the silver plate covers, one after another, revealing the feast I had ordered to be sent up to the room.

French toast, pancakes with maple syrup, Moroccan baked eggs with seasoned baked potatoes, crispy bacon, and black coffee in a carafe and a mug.

Her stomach growled fiercely.

My lips twitched as I looked down at her blushing cheeks. She looked off to the side, moving her head down so it was partially hidden underneath the blanket.

Fuck, she was adorable.

I didn’t know when I’d ever thought anyone was adorable, but this slip of girl was.

I grabbed the small tray stored underneath the cart and placed it on her lap before scooping up a little bit of everything onto one plate while she watched me intently.

Setting the food down in front of her, I handed her a fork. She looked surprised at the fact that she could feed herself. I held a smile.

I wasn’t like Mikhail. I didn’t get off on taking care of every little aspect of her daily routine. She could feed herself, for all I cared. I just wanted her close by, and I wanted to watch her while she did it, one hand carefully holding up the blanket covering her while she held onto the fork with her other hand.

I wondered how she would have reacted had I made her eat without the blanket.

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