Page 34 of The Bratva's Secret Baby

Damn it!

A breath of anger throbbed in my chest. My throat suddenly felt parched and thirsted for alcohol. I poured myself another whiskey and gulped it down in one go. Bitterness simmered in my veins, mixing with the sour.

Was I really that jealous?

Rosanne was just a fling — a woman who deserved death at my hands. But after our night together she broke the chains around my heart, I knew I wanted her, I couldn’t be with anyone else. The thought of her starting a family with another man made every cell in me glow.

I clenched my hands into fists and closed my eyes. I imagined them kissing, laughing, making plans, and doing all the things with him that she should have done with me.

Take a deep breath, Damien. Deep, steady breaths.

Opening my eyes, I slammed my glass on the table. “I hope there's a good explanation for this picture.” My voice was rough, the whiskey was gurgling in my stomach.

“There is,” Fyodor replied, nodding toward the photo. “The man in the photo is Paul Lark. He's one of the best lawyers in New York and works for a firm that competes with Rosanne’s.”

“And?”

Fyodor eyes met mine, and he most definitely sensed my anger because he jumped straight to the point. “He was at Rosanne’s place this afternoon, and he had those two girls with him.”

“I can see that, Fyodor. What does it have to do with anything.”

“He left a while later with only one of the girls.” He raised a brow. “Do you make sense of what I’m saying?”

I tugged on my tie. “I don’t. Explain it to me.”

“Da, boss.He left with only one of the girls, which means the other one might be Rosanne’s daughter.”

She had a daughter!

“How do you know this?”

“From what I got; Paul Lark came to New York only two years ago. The girls look at least five.”

The rest of his words muffled in my ears as realization kicked me right in the guts. If there was any sense to what he’d said, then it could only mean one thing from my calculations.

I’d been with Rosanne six years ago. Her having a five-year-old daughter would mean the little girl was…my daughter?

Chapter Fourteen

Rosanne

The afternoon sun shone relentlessly through the blinds in Kendrick’s office, casting a warm glow on the mahogany desk in the center of the room.

I sat across from Kendrick, and I clasped my hands together on my thighs in fear and my heart palpitated. I’d come here for a specific reason that could destroy the relationship and trust between K and me.

It’d been two days since the shooting. Two days after Damien had confessed that he and The Circle had nothing to do with Erics’s death. All day yesterday I had been thinking, trying to find a reason not to believe Damien.

No matter how I looked at it, he had to be the one responsible for Eric’s death. This had to be the justification for my hatred of him.

After a long day racking my brain with questions, I had no answers to, I came to one conclusion. I had to talk to Kendrick. I had to find out if Damien was lying, and if he was playing me. Kendrick leaned back in his chair; his hands clasped in front of him. “Ms. West. It’s a pleasure to see you. It’s been a while since you’ve been to this office.”

I couldn’t muster a smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

He huffed a chuckle. “I wasn’t the least offended. He leaned forward and propped his elbows on the desk. “What reason do I have for this visit? I’m sure you didn’t come because you missed your old mentor.”

The fact that he referred to himself as my mentor brought a smile to my lips, but it disappeared just as quickly. “You’re right. You know, so many unsolved questions regarding my brother resurfaced when we met the other day."

He sighed. “Ask whatever you want, I’ll try to answer your question as honestly as I can.”

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