Page 22 of Immaculate Deception (Romanoff Bratva)

He leans close enough that I can see the bits of yellow grime between his teeth. “You know Dima. He’s the one who fucked that baby into you. Now, I want you to tell me where he’s at.”

I blink down at Lukas, trying to figure out if this is some kind of fever dream.

Am I still asleep? Am I passed out on the side of the road?

Maybe no one came to help me deliver Lukas after all. Maybe I passed out from the pain and now I’m hallucinating all this craziness.

“Where is Dima?” The man pulls my arm roughly, jostling Lukas.

I cry out. “Please, stop! Don’t hurt my baby. Please.”

The man drops my arm. “I’m not going to hurt your fuckin’ baby. But you, little princess, are another story. Cooperate and tell us where Dima ran off to. Then we’ll let you go.”

I huff in frustration and stare at the man, hoping he’ll see the truth in my eyes. “I don’t know who Dima is and I have no idea—”

Before I can get the rest of the words out, a hand cracks across my face.

The man moved so quickly I didn’t even see the hit coming. But I certainly felt it.

I recoil from the sting of his slap on my cheek. My teeth rattle together, my jaw clenches, and my neck wrenches awkwardly.

I’m so surprised that I don’t make a noise for a second. When I do, it’s a sob.

“What is happening?” I whisper. My hands are beginning to shake. “What is happening?”

The man leans down, putting his face right in front of mine, and hisses, “An interrogation is happening, darling. Right now, it’s not going well for you.”

Then he slaps me again.

“Now start fucking talking.”

Dima

Arya’s Apartment

This is a fucking disaster.

My world isn’t fit for a child. The women I fuck aren’t fit to be mothers.

With this woman, though—Arya George, according to her driver’s license—I didn’t even think about it. Something about her drew me in. Made me throw caution to the wind.

Might’ve been the way she begged me to fuck her harder, now that I think about it.

I shake the memory from my mind and try to focus. But I’m not so far off. More than anything, what drew me to her was how she spoke. No one in my life talks to me the way she did.

I’m sure that had a lot to do with the fact I pulled a gun on her. That brings out a new side of most people.

Usually, though, it’sfearthat bubbles to the surface. Pathetic, whimpering submission. That’s fine. Makes my job easier most days.

But Arya wasn’t scared.

I liked her fearlessness. I liked it even more when she tried to act like she didn’t want me. I knew it was a lie, but I enjoyed the game.

Like animals in heat, we were drawn together, helpless against our instincts. And now, the universe or God or nature or whoever the fuck is in charge is drawing us together again. Pretty fucked-up sense of humor, if you ask me.

But I make my own choices. Not God. Not nature. Certainly not fuckingfate.

Still, I could just walk away. I shouldjust walk away. Arya would never know. It says right here in her diary that she never saw my face. I could leave and she would have no idea.

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