Page 29 of The Bratva's Innocent Forbidden Bride
By that time, she was out, and now that I was somewhat decent, her eyes couldn’t help but roam my body, which I didn’t mind at all. Not when I was having trouble keeping my own gaze off the way her tank top was plastered to her body, her nipples showing through the thin fabric.
A gush of water followed her, flooding from her sweatpants. “If you had on a bathing suit, you’d probably lie out in the sun, right?” I asked. “It’s pretty glorious, isn’t it?”
“I can see why your brother never returned to Moscow all those years ago,” she agreed, squinting up at the big golden orb in the sky.
“Hey, it wasn’t all those years ago,” I said, snapping a towel at her backside before handing it to her. “You’re making me feel old.”
“You are old,” she said, then bit her lip to hide the teasing smile that tried to break through.
“And you’re crazy if you don’t strip down and get some color on your pearly white skin. Underwear is no different from a bathing suit, which was the point I was trying to make before you got sassy with me.”
I stretched out on one of the lounge chairs and made a point to let out a long moan of satisfaction as I lifted my chin toward the sun. After making a point not to look at her, she stripped the sweatpants off and lay on the chair beside me, a soft moan of her own, making me smile.
I needed to hear that sound in another context.
No, I fucking didn’t.
“What have you been up to since college?” I asked, too bluntly, almost as if I was interrogating her again.
She snorted. “As if you haven’t already investigated everything there is to know about me.”
“I know you dropped out.” Grigor had been upset about it, but finally came to terms when he was convinced she was happy. Or he’d convinced himself. I didn’t bring up her father’s opinion on the matter for obvious reasons. “But I never understood why. It wasn’t money, and it certainly wasn’t poor grades.”
“I enjoy my apprenticeship,” she said. Not an answer.
“Do you?” Once again, this didn’t come out sounding conversational, more accusatory. My ire was rising again. What was she hiding?
Wrong move. I had her for a while in the pool, but now she has completely shut down. When I turned to look at her, she was sitting up, wrapping her towel around her lower body.
“It’s getting chilly,” she said. “And I’m tired.”
Fine. I could continue to dig and get the answers I needed, find out if she had to quit school to help Grigor out with something he never cared to share with me. Or if there really was something shady going on with the textile mill she worked at, being partly owned by a rival Bratva family. I could probablyhave that information in a few days if I asked CJ to delve into her past.
But I didn’t want to do that, I wanted to hear it from her. I wanted her to open up to me. Maybe even trust me.
No, I actually didn’t. That wasn’t why she was with me. I was not getting involved with someone who could be plotting against me, no matter how obsessed I was becoming with her.
I stood up, heading toward the elevator. “You’re right, it’s getting late. Time to go inside.”
Let her make of that what she would. She had a taste of freedom out here in the sunlight, but perhaps she preferred being locked in her room.
Chapter 18 - Tatiana
I couldn’t figure out if it was a good thing or not, but for the next few days, I hardly saw Kon. The part of me that began to feel too comfortable around him while he treated me to that nice afternoon in the pool missed the company. The part of me that still had a grasp on reality dreaded the brief moments I saw him in between rushing out of the apartment for one emergency or another.
Did those emergencies have anything to do with my father? He wasn’t talking much, at least not about Papa, even when I did see him.
Every day that went by, really every hour, I became more and more afraid that it was already too late to save my father, though my heart refused to let me believe he was dead. Since Kon was always rushing out without a word, I went so far as to wonder if he and his family already had Papa in their custody. Perhaps they were already torturing him for information about his so-called betrayal.
Despite snapping back to his prison warden attitude whenever I crossed paths with him, Kon hadn’t locked me back in the room. I was actually allowed to go up to the rooftop pool whenever I wanted, as long as a guard hovered nearby. Once again, for my safety, supposedly. When I reminded Kon that I swam like a fish by his own admission, he said accidents could happen to anyone. There was no arguing with that intense look in his eyes, and he didn’t give me enough time to try.
However, despite leaving me alone, I was never really alone, and I couldn’t say I wasn’t bored out of my skull, either. The cook let me help him out in the kitchen when he came, and the housekeeper would talk to me about the small town in Russiawhere she grew up while she dusted the expensive ornaments and picture frames.
I made one little offhanded remark about not having anything to read, and the next morning, a stack of paperbacks in my native tongue was left on the kitchen island, as well as some American fashion magazines. Kon caught me barely rolling my head around to ease a stiff neck as he hurried past me to grab a cup of coffee before leaving two days ago, and snapped to attention.
“Are you hurt? What happened?”
“Just did a few laps too many yesterday,” I said, almost hopeful he’d sit down and have a conversation.
