Page 5 of Pregnant Bratva Hostage (Dubrov Bratva #17)

Day after day, she says nothing. Her silence is a little alarming. How can someone go days without talking at all?

She hardly moves when I walk into her room. She either lies in bed with her back to me or she stands by the window, watching me put her food down, her eyes hollow and stern.

I’ve dealt with different kinds of prisoners before. Sometimes they scream at you every time you come near them. Sometimes they scream all day, every day, whether you interact with them or not. Sometimes they are quiet and say very little.

I’m used to these different reactions; they don’t bother me. Maybe I should appreciate her silence. It’s pleasant in some ways. It’s certainly better than listening to bellowing day and night. Besides, what would I talk to her about? Hey, darling, how are you feeling today? That would go down well.

The silence I can deal with.

But I can’t deal with her trying to kill herself before I have a chance to use her in my plan. That won’t be any good.

What’s really worrying me is the fact that in the past week, she’s hardly eaten anything at all. When I do steal a glance at her face, her cheeks are a bit sunken, her eyes framed by dark shadows.

She’s no good to me if she wastes away to nothing.

And I’m not even the one torturing her. She’s doing this to herself.

I’m bringing her good food. The same food I’m eating every day.

I’ve made sure she has a wide variety of options in case she doesn’t like certain things.

I even gave her a vegetarian meal one night, but she’s not interested in anything.

Is this some kind of protest? Is she hunger striking herself to death in order to escape me?

It’s late on Thursday night. I’m standing in her room, staring at another uneaten plate of food that I left her for lunch.

I’ve just made her a cheese and crackers board with cold cuts and fruits, hoping that a different type of food might entice her.

But looking at the uneaten lunch, all I feel is annoyance.

I clench my jaw and let a low, agitated growl rumble from my chest.

“Why won’t you eat?” I snap, more harshly than I had intended. My voice startles her a bit, breaking the silence between us.

She stares at me, biting her lower lip. More silence.

I set the fresh plate of food down and walk over to where she’s sitting at the window.

“Tania, I asked you a question,” I demand, my voice is loud as it echoes off the glass.

She flinches and shakes her head. “I’m not hungry,” she says quietly, looking away from me out into the darkness through the window.

“Bullshit.” I snarl, reaching down to grab her face in my hand and forcing her to look at me. “You look unwell. You’re trying to starve yourself. It won’t help anything. You’re not going to get out of here by sacrificing your health.”

She huffs quietly.

“What are you doing to do, Arkady? Lock me away?” Her sarcasm is cold and emotionless, but her eyes are brimming with tears. It makes me hesitate before I respond.

“I’ll force the food down your throat if that’s what it takes, Tania.”

She stands up, pushing me away, moving abruptly, and taking me by surprise. “Do it,” she yells. “Do whatever you want. Why should I care anymore?”

She storms over to the bed and sits on the edge, looking down at her feet. Using the sleeve of her hoodie, she quickly brushes tears away, perhaps hoping I wouldn’t notice them.

Her refusal to do as she’s told is pushing me over the edge. I’m losing patience with her. I’m not used to someone being so disobedient.

I march to the bed as well, standing in front of her, my knees on either side of hers as I grab her face for a second time and pick up one of the cheese crackers I brought her.

She screams as I push her lips open and shove it into her mouth.

I step back, fuming, my muscles twitching in anger.

She coughs and spits the food out, looking up at me with a tear-stained face. She wipes her sleeve across her mouth.

“How dare you?” she screams. “You can’t treat people like animals. In fact, good people wouldn’t even treat an animal like that.”

“Then fucking eat,” I yell. “Fucking eat it, or I will shove it down your throat and hold your mouth closed until you swallow.”

She glares at me, hatred burning from her.

Tania grabs a piece of a cracker and shoves it into her mouth, chewing and swallowing with tears streaming down her face. She’s crying so hard she can barely swallow and chokes on it a little. Her hands are shaking.

My chest aches. She looks broken and defeated. She looks angry and helpless.

I take a step away from her, hating what I’m doing to her. I want revenge against her uncle. I didn’t want to hurt her.

She was just a casualty in a larger plan.

My jaw muscles twitch over my face.

What the fuck am I doing?

This isn’t the right way to get through to her. All I see in her eyes is defeat. It’s like she’s given up.

In fact, that same haunted look I saw in her eyes the day I took her—it’s still there. She gave up before she even got here.

This isn’t going to work. I can’t bully her into doing what I want.

I growl, shaking my head as I take another step away from her. I need to rethink my plan.

Turning my back on her, I storm out before I let her suffer my wrath again. I need space.

This whole situation is a disaster.

Tania doesn’t need to know it, but I have no intention of anything happening to her. I just want to use her. That’s all. When this is over, and her uncle has paid for what he did, I’ll set her free.

Closing the door behind me, the lock clicks into place, and I stand with my head resting against it. I huff loudly.

“What the fuck?” I mumble to myself, trying to my bones. Why is this so emotionally draining?

Maybe the prisoners who scream and shout all day are easier, after all.

I’ll think of another way to handle her. I have no choice. She seems defiant and stupid enough to keep pushing this whole not-eating thing until she gets genuinely sick.

My brother will see me hang if I really hurt Rose’s friend.

***

Lying in bed that night, I’m considering all of my options for dealing with Tania.

I can’t get a good enough read on her. I can’t work out what type of person she is.

What I can see through the expressions I’ve noticed dancing in those beautiful eyes of hers is that she’s defiant, she’s feisty, but in a silent way, she will fight against what’s happening to her by simply doing nothing, even to the point of causing herself harm…

That haunted expression.

She looks like she has a broken heart. Like the world has chewed her up and spat her out.

I toss around in bed, thinking about her and how she gave up so easily.

Maybe the Tania I’ve met isn’t who she really is.

It’s possible that everything that’s happened to her has beaten her spirit down, and she’s just given up trying anymore.

If that’s the case, then punishing her won’t get me anywhere. The only way I’ll be able to get through to her is with kindness.

A gentle approach.

Gentle—but firm.

With my mind made up, I fall asleep, satisfied that I’ve worked it out and I don’t need to think about it anymore.

But Tania drifts into my dreams.

She’s quiet and seductive, her hair flowing loose over her shoulders as she walks towards my bed in the night. Her eyes are soft brown, the color moving like smoke.

She reaches out towards me and whispers my name.

“Arkady.” Her voice is a lure, a hook that pulls me out of bed to walk towards her.

She looks so alone, as though she needs me.

I want to hold her. I want to tell her that everything is going to be okay.

She looks up at me and my heart breaks for her.

She doesn’t fit into this life she’s been forced to live. She yearns for freedom. I brush my thumb over the soft skin of her cheek and stare into her lost eyes.

“I’ve got you, darling,” I whisper, as I look down at her beautiful lips. A flicker of a smile touches her mouth. I lean down to kiss her—

My alarm goes off, and I jolt awake, pulled from the dream even though it lingers in my mind, images of her still vibrant in my thoughts.

I rub my hands against my eyes and let out a long breath.

I can’t remember the last time I had a dream so intense.

My heart is beating faster than normal.

Huffing loudly, I toss my blankets off and throw my legs over the side of the bed, stretching as I sit there, trying to wake up fully.

But only a good, strong double espresso will make me up properly.

I pad barefoot on the heated floors towards the kitchen. It’s too early to wake her, but I’ll get some work done on the computer, and once that’s out of the way, I’ll make Tania some breakfast and try out my new plan.

My heart flickers excitedly.

What in the world is that about?

I’m excited to see her?

Bullshit. I’m just excited to test my new theory for dealing with her. That’s all it is.

In the kitchen, I’m standing with my hip leaning against the counter and my arms folded across my chest as I watch fresh dark espresso pour into my mug. I like these quiet, wintery mornings when it’s still dark outside.

It’s peaceful and it feels like the world is mine. I can think clearly. No one asking me for anything, no one needing me—just my own time.

The machine finishes pouring my coffee and I pick up the mug, lifting it to my lips. Perfect every time.

I carry the coffee through to the living room area and stand next to the patio doors, my eyes drifting over the garden outside. Lights are glowing in the pre-morning darkness, strung between the trees around the edge of the garden and the pool.

I’m a problem solver, and Tania is nothing more than a problem that needs solving.

After an hour at my laptop, getting through some e-mails and today’s schedule, I stretch and yawn loudly. I need another coffee.

I’ll make her breakfast at the same time. Scrambled egg on toast, something light and easy.

In the kitchen, I hum as I work, whisking the eggs in time to the music in my head.

I eat my own breakfast while I’m making hers, crunching on a crisp piece of toast as I scoop her scrambled egg onto the side of a plate.

It looks good.

Time to test my strategy.

I carry the plate and a coffee with milk and sugar up to her room, balancing them in one hand as I unlock the door and push it open.

Tania wakes up and sits up in bed, rubbing her eyes and looking gorgeously tousled.

“Good morning, sunshine,” I grin, setting her breakfast down, lifting last night’s uneaten dinner away without commenting on it.

I walk over to the windows and push one of them open, letting a crisp breeze drift into the room.

Then I grab the chair from the corner and carry it to the side of her bed, sitting in it. I watch her with a smile on my face.

“How did you sleep?” I ask.

She glares at me, her brows knitting.

“Not a morning person?” I chuckle. “Have some coffee. You haven’t really spoken much, so I just keep guessing how you like it. Today it’s milky with two sugars.”

She glances at the coffee.

“I’m not leaving till you’ve eaten, darling,” I say calmly.

Her eyes shoot wide as she realizes what’s happening.

“I—I’m not hungry,” she murmurs.

“It doesn’t matter. I will sit here until you are.” I lean back in the chair, getting comfortable.

Tania picks up the coffee and sips it. Her shoulders relax a little, the pleasure evident on her face. She takes another sip.

“There,” she says, as though she’s fulfilled my wish.

“Nice try.” I laugh. “Coffee is not breakfast, Tania.”

She bites her lip and picks up the plate, setting it on her lap, staring at the food nervously.

I wait in tense silence, then change my mind, because silence hasn’t worked so far, so I start chatting about winter mornings and watching the sky change color as the sun rises.

Tania bites a piece of toast with scrambled egg on it and chews slowly. You can see the relief in her body to be eating again.

She takes another bite and I keep chatting casually.

It takes a while, but she eats a whole slice.

Unfortunately, because she hasn’t eaten in such a long time, or due to stress—I can’t say for sure—she groans in discomfort and clutches at her stomach.

“Ow,” she whimpers, pushing the plate away and quickly getting out of bed.

“Are you okay?” I ask, worried.

She runs to the bathroom and just makes it in time to throw up everything she’s eaten.

She gasps for air as her body heaves, and I gently pull her hair back for her, rubbing my hand slowly up and down her back.

“I’m sorry, maybe we should have started with just the toast,” I say, soothing her.

She leans back, and I wipe her face with a damp cloth from the basin and pull her into my arms, holding her close as she catches her breath.

“I guess it’s because you haven’t eaten in so long,” I sigh.

She leans her head against my chest and closes her eyes for a moment.

It makes my heart beat faster. This vulnerability is unexpected from her.

She’s let down her walls, allowing me to comfort her.

I brush my fingers through her hair, then lift her delicate frame in my arms as I stand and carry her back to bed.

I set her down on the bed, and as I’m about to reach over her to get the plate, wanting to make her plain toast instead, she shoves me away.

“You poisoned it,” she blurts out, crying. “You’re trying to make me sick.” Her vulnerability is gone, replaced by anger and fear again.

“No, Tania, why would I—”

“You’re making me sick to get at my uncle. I knew I shouldn’t trust you.”

I take two steps away from her, staring at her in shock. “Why the hell would I poison you? If I wanted you to be sick, I could just inject you with something. Why would I make you good food day after day? What bullshit is this?” I shout back at her, defensive and confused.

“Get away from me,” she yells.

I shake my head, disappointed. Leaving her breakfast plate where it is, I grab her dinner plate and storm out of the room, slamming the door behind me. This is fucking ridiculous.

I didn’t sign up to be a babysitter.

As I go through my day, I keep reminding myself that she is the enemy, that I shouldn’t feel bad for her.

But all day, I am haunted by the tender moment when she snuggled against me. The briefest, most intimate moment. She showed me something different, and it’s tugging at me. She’s trying to be so strong, so defiant, so bold—but inside she’s terrified.

And all I want to do is hold her again.