Page 22 of Secret Bratva Baby
“Please let us go,” I try again, sensing his softer side emerging.
When he turns to look at me, his head is tilted to the side.
His eyes pierce into mine.
“Who is the father?” he asks.
The question catches me completely off guard.
“Um,” I stammer, my mind racing.
“How old is she, Rose? How old is Lily?” he turns to me, his broad shoulders facing me squarely.
“She’s—"
My heart is beating so fast I feel dizzy.
This is bad. This isn’t good at all. What am I supposed to say?
“She’s two and a half,” I lie.
“Is that so? She looks older.”
“She’s just tall for her age.”
“Tall,” he says, narrowing his gaze. “Where is her father, Rose?” he asks as he steps closer to me.
I stand my ground, not looking away. I don’t want to appear guilty.
He doesn’t believe me.
“Why do you want to know?” I snap defensively.
“Because I think I have a right to know, don’t you?”
“She’s not yours.” I blurt out.
He swallows hard, taken aback by my blunt answer. I glare at him, determined not to give in to his questioning.
But when hurt flickers across his face, my heart sinks to the pit of my stomach.
If I had given this more thought, real, proper thought, I wouldn’t have lied. It’s not fair to keep a child from their father.
But he’s the one who chose to leave. He’s the one who chose not to be with me. And on top of all of that, he’s the one who kidnapped us.
Luka’s gaze is tightly locked onto me.
“I guess you moved on quickly, then. What? A few months? So mypushing you away,as you put it last night—it didn’t have such a bad impact on you after all.”
His voice is subdued, and his eyes are heavy with emotion. I wish I could read him better. I wish I could understand what he’s thinking. Is he angry? Is he upset? Why?
Why would he care, anyway? He didn’twantto be with me—so what if I met someone else?
Guilt and confusion eat away at me, and I lash out because of it.
“Who cares if I moved on? You weren’t interested. You broke my heart.”
He takes another step towards me, and I back up, my ass hitting the kitchen counter as I lean backwards into it, staring up at him and still trying to look strong. Anger is quickly overpowering my guilt.
