Page 21 of The Bratva's Secret Baby

My daughter was smart for her age. She could tell if you were happy or sad from reading your body language, and she was the most compassionate five-year-old I’d ever seen.

I think I must have done something right in my previous life to earn my title as her mother.

“Is there anything you’d like me to do for you, Mommy?”

I gave her right cheek a soft squeeze. “You’re such an angel, you know that.” I opened my arms. “You can give Mommy another big hug.”

She slid between my open arms and wrapped her arm around my neck. “Mommy?”

“Yes, baby.”

“You can ask for a hug whenever you’re sad.” She hauled back and looked me in the eyes. “I’ll also hug Mommy when I’m upset.”

I nodded. “Mommy will hug you when she is sad, okay?”

Her giggle as she hugged me again reminded me of Tatianna—of the birthday party and the last time I saw Damien.

After I left the party, I spent the next couple of days trying to figure out where to go, I still had to finish my law degree somehow. Three weeks later, and a few days before moving to upstate New York, I found out I was pregnant.

I sniffled, not wanting to cry in front of Kaity.

I was a single twenty-four-year-old with very little savings and a broken heart, trying to move to another town and start a new life. I was leaving behind everything I had ever worked for. And then what? I found out I was pregnant by a man that didn’t even want me.

It felt like my world was spinning to a stop, taking my will to live with it. I felt like a failure. I’d failed to catch my brother’s killer, and worse I had the best sex ever with his killer. At first, I felt like I couldn’t carry his child, I hated him too much to even give it a chance.

But when I heard Kaity’s heartbeat on the ultrasound machine for the first time, I could only think of how to become a better mother for my daughter. I’d come to realize she wasn’t just half of Damien; she was half of me too.

Her father was an asshole, but I was her mother. I made a vow that morning, and I’d kept to it. I’d been able to graduate from law school and I got a job shortly after. I took everything in my stride with the hope that everything would be okay.

And everything worked out. Until now.

But now that I’d seen Damien, it was impossible to shake off the feeling that he would leave me alone. He didn’t know about Kaity, and I had no intention of telling him if we ever met again.

My breath hitched when one last fear-tricking thought raced through my head. I’d tried to keep Kaity a secret from him and everyone he knew. Not even Bella knew I had a daughter, not because I didn’t trust her. It was Vlad I didn’t trust.

I was determined to carry this secret to my grave. But what if the inevitable happened and he found out the truth I’d kept hidden for years?

The panic sizzling up my chest made my arms tighten around Kaity, the thought of losing her creating a trail of melancholy as it went. Tears flooded my eyes, and as much as I tried not to let it spill, the first drop cascaded down my face.

Kaity pushed her head back and looked at me through her thick lashes. “Mommy, are you crying? Did anyone hurt you?”

“No, I’m not.” I sniffled as I mopped the corners of my eyes. “Mommy is not crying. I’m just…” I bit back on the last word.

What I felt didn’t matter, what I needed to be was all that mattered.

And right now, I needed to be strong for me and Kaity.

Chapter Nine

Damien

I inhaled my cigar deeply and savoring the spicy earthiness on the tip of my tongue, I exhaled towards the full moon overhead.

It was a lovely evening at Varkov Port—one of my many illegal warehouses. In front of me, whimpers, the thudding of boots against human flesh, and the cracking of a skull seeped into the atmosphere as my men roughened a man who deserved every single punch that came his way.

His screams sent a trickle of satisfaction up my chest. The bastard—Harris Salvatore—worked in the warehouse as my accountant. Documenting shipments and making sure my money was safe.

But rather than give me a run for my money, he’d fucked around and stolen from me. A grave mistake. Fyodor stood beside me, both hands buried in the pocket of his suit as he watched the scene play out. A slight smirk curved his lips, his eyes blackening with satisfaction.

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