The Bratva King's Kidnapped Bride - Page 64

I wanted to warn her that he might just be hitting on her, but she was usually on her toes when it came to male attention. She’d be fine.

The smile wouldn’t come, not even when I scrolled up to see she’d aced her most recent test. It was her mandatory math class, and she couldn’t wait until all the boring stuff was out of the way so she could dig into the meat of her major. I pictured her standing on the floor of Congress one day, shining as bright as I knew she could, but not even that favorite daydream could make my lips turn up in any meaningful way.

My alarm sounded, and I tapped it off. Even though I’d been awake for an hour, I kept it set to keep some semblance of night and day. I tossed and turned at night, dozed off in the afternoons, and only left the curtains open when one of the silent maids pulled them, tutting that I could use some natural light.

As regular as my alarm, Olga stuck her head in the door a few minutes later. “Do you want me to shop for you this morning?”

I shook my head, remembering to thank her as she looked sad.

“It’s been two weeks. What about your loyal customers?” she asked.

Had it been two weeks since I started hiding in the guest room, as far from Aleks as possible, without going into one of the other wings? I’d thought about doing that. Thought about flat-out leaving, but something kept me there. Just far enough away, but still within reach.

I couldn’t leave. And not just because I knew Aleks. Knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he’d find me and bring me back. I just… couldn’t.

“Maybe tomorrow,” I said, rolling over and pulling the covers over my head.

Olga sighed, but instead of the door clicking shut, I heard her march past my bed and draw open the curtains. Even under the covers, the bright morning sunshine made me squint. I was becoming part mole.

I stayed still until she left, then got out of bed and considered getting dressed. Had I really moped around in this room for two weeks? It felt like just a few days, but also an eternity. I tried to make each day fit into its own place.

The first few days had been torture. The morning sickness that I had previously thought was stress or nerves made me physically miserable. A doctor came and checked me out, saying I was in perfect health and that the nausea should subside over the next few weeks. Running to the bathroom and puking up the food I forced myself to eat for the baby was awful, but it was nothing in comparison to my shattered heart.

My husband, the man I loved, was a criminal. Not just any criminal, either. The big one, the boss. An actual Bratva king. All the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, and I felt stupid for not seeing them sooner. I didn’t want to think the worst of Aleks. In my eyes, he could do no wrong. The truth was vastly different. The pain of it came in waves. I didn’t know what to do or how I felt beyond the betrayal of being lied to.

Mila came to visit me, probably a few days after the doctor’s visit. She tried to get me to understand her family’s way of life, telling me she’d answer any questions. Her apology for keeping things from me seemed sincere, but the pain in my heart was stronger than anything she had to say. I only stared at the wall until she gave up and left.

Another message came through from Jenna. She was getting irritated that I wasn’t answering calls and barely replying to her messages. It wasn’t as easy to put her off as Aunt Marjorie, and my fingers hovered over the phone, trying to find words so she wouldn’t worry.

My hypocrisy made me put the phone down without replying. I had barricaded myself in this room, hurt and angry about the lies that had been fed to me, and all along, I’d been doing the same to my family. Jenna didn’t know I was married at all, let alone to a mafia boss. She didn’t have a clue she was going to be an aunt.

How could I tell her everything now, after lying to her all this time? She thought the money for her new apartment, the DC trip, the upcoming ski vacation, was all from my booming catering business. Just another lie.

There was a light tap at the door, and I scrambled back into bed, pulling the covers over the rumpled pajamas I’d worn three days in a row. I barely had my hair smoothed down when Aleks poked his head in the door.

Just like Olga asking me if I wanted to make the lunch boxes, Aleks brought me breakfast every morning. Sometimes he tried to talk to me, telling me everything about his business dealings and being completely forthcoming now that I didn’t want to hear.

He never pushed me, never demanded anything from me, but made it clear he wasn’t giving up on us. I always stared at my hands and refused to eat and he’d finally tell me he’d be downstairs in his office if I wanted to talk and then leave. After a few days of being ignored, he stopped being so chatty and would just leave the tray, assuring me he’d be at home if I needed him as he left.

He even started working at home. As far as I knew, he hadn’t left the house since we’d come home from the hospital. The few times I looked out the window, the grounds were no longer swarming with guards, but they could be staying out of sight for all I knew.

“Morning,” he said, same as always.

I kept my eyes trained on my hands, that I was twisting in my lap. I made myself stop and accepted the tray. Aleks lifted the cover, revealing a fresh blueberry muffin slathered with butter, French toast with strawberries and whipped cream, and three sausage links. A little silver pitcher of maple syrup sat beside a tall glass of orange juice.

“Is she trying to give me diabetes?” I asked, clamping my lips together. It felt odd to speak so many words at once. My throat was creaky, so I sipped the juice.

Aleks laughed, and I wanted to lean into the sound. We used to laugh together. How amazing that had been.

“Olga said the French toast and the muffin are for the baby. It’s just the sausage and juice that’s for you. So you should be okay.”

I snickered, realizing I was ravenous. Maybe the doctor was right because I didn’t feel like racing for the bathroom that morning. Aleks didn’t leave but sat on the edge of the bed.

“Everything is taken care of,” he said. “We got the final word that anyone left in the Armenian organization has conceded. There won’t be any more problems with them.”

“With them,” I muttered, glancing up to meet his eyes. I thought I could never forget how blue they were, but I was wrong. Deep and vibrant like cornflowers. They took my breath away.

“That’s right,” he said. “There will always be people who want what we have. But I won’t make the same mistakes I made before. You’re safe, Katie. I promise you that.”