Page 6 of Bought to Bear Bratva Heir

I let go of her so suddenly that she tipped forward. Only catching herself in time before she slammed her face into the doorframe.

"Get some rest."

"Ilya?"

I froze, turning to her slightly. "What is it, Daisy?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

Frowning so hard that I could feel a headache starting, I nodded. "If it’s important, sure."

"Why?"

I did a double-take. "Why what?"

She hesitated, wringing her hands together nervously. "Why me? I mean, I know I’m not special. But you’re rich and handsome and could have any woman you wanted." Her eyes flicked across my face almost like she expected me to blow up in rage. "You are literally the most eligible bachelor in the city," she continued in a rush. "You could marry royalty if you wanted to, so I guess what I’m asking is—"

I cut her off. "I won’t get married. Not ever. It’s not in my nature to love someone, and I think most women want that. I need an heir, so this arrangement is easier."

She opened her mouth, snapped it shut, and opened it again. "If you are incapable of love, then do you think it’s a good idea to have a child? They need a lot of love."

I stared at her in absolute disbelief. No one, and I meant no one, ever questioned me like that. Not ever.

My eyes narrowed into slits. "Go to bed, Daisy." I walked away without looking back to see if she had done what I had asked. Hearing the small click of her bedroom door, I let out a sigh of relief.

Tonight had been a disaster. Right from the second my grandfather had told me his plan, I had argued against it. Hard. Not that it did any good. I knew the rules. I couldn’t take over without either being married—something I would never do—or having an heir. One with a surrogate that wouldn’t expect anything from me. A woman paid to do a job.

I poured another drink and looked out at the city. Daisy wasn’t what I was expecting. Especially the virgin thing. She wasn’t a professional hooker. She was sweet and pretty and completely out of her league with me.

Like I was tuned into her, I cocked my head to the side, listening to the muffled sobs that seemed to rip through the silence of my penthouse.

Grumbling, I knocked back the drink again. Usually, I didn’t have more than one after work, but today I couldn’t seem to stop. There was a woman in my home; already I could smell the scent of her perfume everywhere.

And I could hear her crying. Spoiling the perfect silence I liked.

Slamming the glass down, I went back to her room. Swinging open her door, I opened my mouth to tell her to shut up and froze.

She was on the side of the bed furthest away from the door. Curled up in the fetal position as she buried her face into the crook of her arm and sobbed.

"I—Daisy?" Something twisted inside of me. A strange feeling that I didn’t recognize. Her spine stiffened. "Are you ok?"

She sniffled loudly. "Yes, sorry."

"Tell me what’s wrong," I ordered. I’d never had a woman cry after being in my presence, and it was throwing me.

Another loud sniffle. "Nothing, it’s silly. I’m sorry—" she jumped when the door slammed behind me.

"Tell me. Now."

"I miss my home. And I’m sore and—"

My eyes widened. "You’re sore?" I hissed, but of course she was. She had been a virgin, and I hadn’t exactly been gentle with her. In fact, I had been the literal opposite of gentle. "I see."

"I’m sorry—" she went to say, but I was already moving. Quickly I grabbed the things I needed from my room and bathroom and went back to her.

"You never need to apologize for telling me the truth." I moved around the bed to stand towering over her. "Especially when I have asked for it. Here, you can sleep in this, and I’ll have your clothes washed and ready for you in the morning." Holding out one of my tees, I watched as her trembling fingers took it. I only wore those kinds of clothes when I was at home or training, so I wouldn’t miss it.

"Do you need my help?"