Page 61 of Shattered Cradle (Makarova Bratva Duet)

“I know,” she says. “I’ll go back soon. I haven’t forgotten that I have a job to complete. Where is Olivia now?”

I jerk my head to the door across the hall. “In her room.”

“You need to go to her.”

“And do what?”

“Be there for her,” she says emphatically. “She’s going to need you.”

I shake my head. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to? I’m not that man, Jennifer.”

“What man?” she asks. “A man with compassion? With empathy?”

“Any of it.”

“That’s bullshit,” she replies. “That poor girl needs you. She’s carrying your child and she’s just chosen you over her family. If she doesn’t have you, she has no one. You need to be with her.”

“Do I have to remind you that I’m the one who gives the orders around here?”

“Fine!” she says, throwing her hands up in defeat. “Fine. I tried. I’m heading back.”

“You can’t put it off forever, Jennifer,” I call after her as she descends the staircase. “You’ll have to face him eventually.”

She pauses for a moment halfway down the steps, but she doesn’t turn back around. I watch as her shoulders rise and fall, rippling with unspoken tension.

Then she keeps walking and disappears from sight.

I stand on the landing for another minute. To the left is my office. Work beckons. I need to do my duty as the don of this Bratva.

But to my right is the door to Olivia’s room.

I know which way I’ll choose.

When I open the door and slip through, I see her blinds have been drawn tight. There’s no sunlight coming in. She’s curled up on the bed, a mass of shadows amongst a mountain range of pillows. She rocks back and forth. Each sob sends her twitching.

I sit on the edge of the mattress. Olivia looks up at me, tears running in a continuous stream down her cheeks.

That sight breaks something in me.

I slip off my shoes and slide into the bed next to her. Engulfing her tight in my embrace, we lie there silently for a long few moments. Her sobs intensify, peak, and then glide down until she’s just snuffling quietly.

“I feel like I can’t breathe,” she whispers.

Her cheek is pressed hard against my chest, her eyes searching mine. She’s looking at me as though I might have the magic fix to take her pain away.

“Breathe through the pain,” I tell her. “Stop trying to erase it. It’s not going anyway, Olivia. Not today. Maybe not ever.”

Another sob escapes her. “Oh God…”

I hold her as a fresh wave of tears rips through her. My shirt is soaked through with them, not that I give a damn.

“Please stay,” she whispers in a panic. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Don’t worry,kiska,” I tell her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

15

OLIVIA

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