Page 11 of Traded & Bred By the Bratva
She’s quiet during the drive, and I don’t know what to say. The city glitters beyond the windshield. Skyscrapers rise against the night sky, and rain slicks the streets in silver reflections.
Sydney watches everything through the side window, her right leg bouncing up and down. She’s nervous, but trying not to show it. Eventually, she clears her throat. "What happens now?"
I glance at her. The city lights illuminate the side of her face, showing the elegant curve of her jaw and the faint crease between her brows.
"You move into my penthouse."
Her eyes widen. "Tonight?"
"Tonight."
She looks out the window again. I can almost see the calculations happening behind her eyes. Ben would be proud.
The thought arrives unexpectedly.
I haven’t kept in touch with him, but the man struck me as practical. The kind of person who considered consequences before acting.
Unlike me.
Because if I'd been thinking clearly tonight, I would've stayed away from Sydney entirely. Instead, I bought her.
My jaw tightens.
The smart move would've been finding another solution. Asking her why she needed money before she stepped up on that stage. Figure out a way to pay her bills anonymously. Having someone else help.
Anything.
Instead, the second I saw her standing beside Lang, every rational thought disappeared. And now my carefully constructed undercover operation has become infinitely more complicated. Because I'm responsible for her, and every rival I've made over the last three years can now use her against me. Somehow, I must protect her from that.
Because she matters.
The realization arrives with unwelcome clarity.
She matters. Far too much already.
When we arrive at my place, I park the car in the underground garage, and we ride the elevator to my floor in silence. It opens directly into the penthouse.
Sydney steps inside and gasps.
The penthouse occupies the entire top floor and has glass walls overlooking the city. The skyline stretches endlessly beyond the windows. Inside, soft lighting illuminates polished hardwood floors. The decorator created a space designed to impress with modern furniture and original artwork. I rarely notice any of it anymore.
Sydney clearly does. "Oh." A genuine laugh escapes her. It’s soft and surprised. "Oh wow."
I find myself watching her instead of the apartment.
The wonder on her face as she slowly turns in a circle and momentarily forgets to be nervous.
It’s dangerous watching her. It stirs up emotions I have no business feeling. Can’t afford to feel. Everything about this woman is becoming dangerous.
"This is where you live?"
"Technically."
She looks at me. "What does that mean?"
I loosen my tie. "I'm rarely here."
"How rarely?"
