Page 6 of Pregnant Bratva Hostage (Dubrov Bratva #17)

The breakfast plate is still on the bed. My stomach has settled, and my body is begging for food again.

It’s obvious he didn’t poison me, now, after the fact. I guess I haven’t eaten for so long that my body got confused.

I reach over and pick up the second piece of toast, knocking off most of the scrambled egg, even though it was delicious.

I eat the toast even more slowly than last time.

My violent reaction to food earlier gave me a fright. It shows how poorly I’m treating my body, and there is no good reason for it.

If I want to escape when the chance arises, I need to be strong, not whimpering and weak and throwing up over a small breakfast.

After I’ve eaten the toast, I manage to eat half of the scrambled egg as well. I wonder if he really made it himself. My uncle hasn’t cooked a day in his life. He has chefs do those things for him.

I rather like cooking. It calms me. But I can only do it when my uncle is not around; otherwise, he complains, telling me I’m doing a peasant’s job, and makes it clear that I’m getting in the way.

After breakfast, I shower and get dressed, searching through the closet for a pair of jeans and a fresh sweater. I tug on a pair of Nike hi-tops and pull my hair into a high bun, out of my face.

I find a really nice-looking hairpin, and the very first thing I think when I see it is that I might be able to use it to pick the bedroom lock.

I’ve seen people doing it in movies. I reckon I can work it out if I go slow and listen to the clicks.

Kneeling in front of the door, I squint through the keyhole, but I can’t see anything at all. I slip the pin into the lock and wiggle it. I have no idea what I’m doing. I wiggle it up and down and left and right and listen, but all I hear is metal pushing against metal.

Nothing is moving, though.

In frustration, I stand up and grab the handle, wiggling it hard, and to my absolute shock, I find it unlocked.

He never locked it. Was it a mistake after our fight this morning? Or did he leave it open on purpose?

Has it been open for days, or is it just today?

My mind races as I push the door wider and peek into the hallway outside.

It’s quiet.

I tilt my head to the side, listening intently, but I hear very little.

I’m not even sure if Arkady is home. I know there are guards everywhere because I’ve watched them out of my bedroom window, constantly patrolling the garden. But there doesn’t seem to be any inside the house.

I can use that to my advantage.

I’ll look around and gather as much information as I can on this guy. The more a person knows, the more power they have. Maybe I can find something to use against him, the way he’s using the threat toward my family to control me.

I slip out of the door and walk quietly down the hall. I’ll start downstairs. At least I know my way around there a little.

In the living room, I browse through his bookshelf. I can’t image him being much of an intellectual or a reader, so maybe there is some kind of hidden box or file in here.

But I find nothing, apart from a wide selection of first-edition classic sci-fi novels. These books are in incredible condition, works from HP Wells and Edgar Alan Poe.

I trace my fingers over the spines, fascinated by his choice of literature.

After the living room, I look around downstairs and find some guest rooms, an indoor pool, a magnificent music room, and an office space that looks unused.

Upstairs, I’m hoping to find the home office that he does use. There was a laptop on the dining room table, but it was password-protected, so I left it where it was.

Walking down the hallway, I peek into each room.

His bedroom is the only one that’s being used.

And it smells of him. Cologne, the masculine scent of sweat.

His dark grey sheets are ruffled, his bed unmade.

I reach down to touch the bedding and then quickly draw my hand back.

What am I doing? This isn’t going to help me find out anything I need to know about him.

Hurrying from his bedroom, I move on to the upper level of his mansion.

The first room I walk into is a wide, open space—glass ceilings and big green tropical plants everywhere.

It’s the most gorgeous sunroom I’ve ever seen.

For a moment, I’m completely mesmerized, and I forget what I’m doing.

I’m lost in awe, walking among these beautiful plants.

I’ve wandered all the way to the other side of the massive greenhouse-sunroom when I hear a thud, and another thud.

What in the world—

I tiptoe towards the sound and peer around the wide doorframe, looking into a gym.

My heart leaps into my throat when I see him.

He’s shirtless, wearing black sweatpants, his hands wrapped in tape as he punches rhythmically at a hanging leather bag.

He huffs, ducks, punches. Left, left, right. Duck. Uppercut.

Each time his fist hits the bag, he lets out a huff of exertion, and his arm muscles flex taut.

My eyes trace over his tanned skin. Every curve and every muscle is flexed from his workout. His chest and back are glistening with sweat. His short-cropped dark hair and the dark shadow of stubble over his face make him look like the perfect specimen. The perfect example of what a man should be.

I gasp as he pauses and glances toward the door, but I manage to duck away just in time.

The punching resumes, and I can’t help but steal another look.

My body is tingling with desire.

He looks dangerous and virile.

Unapologetically male. His strength was worn proudly.

No wonder I couldn’t get away from him. I don’t stand a chance against that beast of a man. I bite my lip as my eyes drift up and down, noting his thick, toned thighs pressing against his pants. My gaze moves up his back again, his broad shoulders and solid neck.

He’s fucking gorgeous.

An image of perfection. Adonis.

He pauses again, and I immediately duck behind the doorframe.

Shit.

What the fuck am I doing?

Why am I standing here perving him like some creeper?

I’m going to start worrying about myself if I keep looking at him like this.

I press my hand against my heart, wanting it to beat slower. Pull yourself together, Tania, this is ridiculous.

It’s late afternoon, and I am reading in the living room, not bothering to hide the fact that he left my door unlocked, because I can’t escape anyway, and I’d rather sit out here than in the bedroom for another second.

Arkady walks in wearing dark jeans and a black shirt. He’s busy rolling his sleeve up over his forearm, straightening the cuff over his thick muscles.

I glare at him, expecting him to be angry with me for being out here.

But he smiles, tilting his head to the side. “Which one are you reading?”

“At the Mountains of Madness,” I say, glancing at the cover, but keeping my finger between the pages to hold my place.

“Lovecraft. Never took you for a girl who likes horror,” he muses as he walks closer.

“Why not? My whole life is one big horror show anyway.” I shrug.

“Well, put the book down for a while and walk with me.”

“Walk?” I knit my brows, confused about what he’s asking.

“Yes, outside. In the sun, while it’s shining. It’ll be good for you.”

I snort. Like he cares what’s good for me.

Arkady throws me a glare of warning, and I remember the folder of photographs he showed me on my first day here. Don’t put them in danger, Tania. Just walk with him.

It’s a beautiful day outside; even though the air is chilled, the sun is warm against my skin.

I shove my hands into my pockets and walk quietly next to him, stealing glances in his direction whenever I think he’s not looking.

Sometimes he is, and he grins at me. Those stupid dimples make my heart flutter.

Arkady chats about the property. “My brothers own the land on either side of me. We thought it would be nice to live close together as a family.” He points towards the mansion in the distance next door.

“Don’t you get tired of having your family tell you what to do all the time?” I mutter, but I’m not talking about him. I have no idea what his relationship with his family is like. I’m just projecting my own frustration onto him.

He frowns at me. “I didn’t hear what you asked,” he says.

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter.”

He watches me for a while before giving up.

We walk along the edge of his property line until we reach a gate in the high security fence. He gestures for me to go through it.

On the other side is a gorgeous little park, a duck pond, and a playground.

“What is this?”

“My brother had it built for the kids,” he says.

I see Lily before she sees me.

Her nanny is trying to convince her to put her gumboots back on, but she’s having none of it.

“Lily?” I whisper in shock, my voice breaking.

Arkady smirks. My heart sinks as Lily spots me and squeals my name, bolting away from her nanny towards us.

Little Lily flower, Rose’s daughter. My friend’s daughter.

The friend who I almost got killed. This beautiful little girl would have been without a mother, and it would have been because of me.

Choices I made would have ruined her entire life—changed everything.

I haven’t seen Lily since Rose was taken.

I’ve thought about her, but seeing her now is worse.

The pain it creates in my heart is almost unbearable.

She bowls into me, wrapping her arms around my legs.

Automatically, as I’ve done a hundred times in the past, I lean down and lift her into my arms.

“Aunty Tia,” she giggles, hugging around my neck tightly.

“Hey, muffin. I missed you. Are you playing in the water with the ducks?”

“I throw the bread at them,” she grins mischievously.

“I bet you do,” I laugh, remembering how she used to chase them down at the park near our work when Rose and I went there on weekends.

“Lily, I’m not going to tell you again to put your boots back on. Your mother isn’t going to let me bring you back to the park,” the nanny huffs.

Lily nuzzles her face into my cheek. “Love you, Aunty Tia,” she whispers, then places a wet kiss on my face.

“Love you too, little Lily flower. You'd better go put those boots on.”

I smile at her and set her back on the ground, and she rolls her eyes as dramatically as she can before bolting back to the nanny.

My heart is tight, my breathing heavy.

“Why did you bring me here?” I whisper, not looking at Arkady—my eyes are still on Lily. She’s wiggling her feet into her bright yellow gumboots. Her face is radiant, full of life and laughter.

She has no idea what I did. If she truly knew the kind of person I am, she would never have hugged me. She’s too innocent for this world and the terrible people in it. People like me.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Arkady answers casually, but I can hear it in his voice. He knows exactly what I mean.

Turning away from Lily, I slip back through the gate to Arkady’s property and walk toward the house. I don’t want to be out here anymore. I want to get away from that sweet little girl, my friend’s daughter. My friend, I almost killed.

“Hey, wait up,” Arkady says, jogging after me.

I’m doing my best to keep my thoughts to myself, but I’m furious. My anger is only outweighed by my guilt.

And together, they both create a deep hurt in my heart.

We step into the mansion, and Arkady looks at me sternly. “Tania, what are you doing?” he snaps.

“I’m going to my room,” I snap back, telling myself that shouting at him won’t help anything. He doesn’t care.

And he took me to see Lily on purpose. Another threat of some kind. A reminder of what I did. Who knows. He’s an asshole.

“What is your problem?” he says, shaking his head.

“My problem?” I laugh bitterly.

“Yes, Tania, what is your problem?” he says sarcastically.

“You aren’t playing fair. Why would you take me to Lily? I get it, you want to kidnap me, and make my life more of a hell than it already was—but why did you have to rub my mistakes in my face like that? Why would you take me to see my friend’s little girl?” I swallow hard, fighting tears.

“Oh, for crying out loud—not everything I do is a stab at you. I just took you for a fucking walk around the garden.”

“No, you did that on purpose.”

“Did what on purpose?” he snaps, getting more heated.

I shake my head, pressing my lips together.

Arkady has such a quick temper. I’m not even sure anymore if he knows why I’m upset, or if he did do it on purpose. But he’s so revved for a fight without even knowing what we’re fighting about.

I close my eyes, begging myself not to cry. I’m already so embarrassed.

“Hey, you don’t get to accuse me of shit. If you have an issue with Lily, I didn’t know about it. Don’t be pointing fingers at me.”

“Pointing fingers? Oh no, why would I want to point fingers at the guy holding me prisoner in his home? He’s such a nice fucking guy!” I shout.

My heart is racing, all of the anger and hurt flooding from me.

Arkady takes two fast strides towards me and stands over me, glaring down at me.