Page 133 of Bratva Jewels Box Set
“Of course, but you were enjoying the food too much for me to
interrupt.”
“I love Italian food.”
“I could tell. I was jealous that the food was able to make you
moan like that.”
I feel my cheeks burn at his comment.This is what you want, his compliments. It makes it easier to seduce him.“Why are you doing all this?”
Before he can answer we are interrupted by the waiter, who places a bowl of soup in front of each of us and then disappears as quickly as he came, he still refuses to acknowledge me.
“It’s ribollita, a traditional Tuscan soup,” Maxim advises me.
Irritation is getting the better of me, so I decide to concentrate on the food. I take a spoonful of the bean soup and the flavor dances across my taste buds. Whoever his chef is they are amazing.
When I am a quarter of the way through my soup, I continue our conversation. “You didn’t answer me earlier. Why are you doing all this?”
He finishes his mouthful of soup and places his spoon to the side,
then steeples his fingers. “Are you asking me why I am treating a beautiful woman to a wonderful meal?”
“I’m asking why my kidnapper is having dinner with his hostage.”
Maxim’s eye narrow on me. “I thought you deserved a nice night after the horrible week you’ve had detoxing. You’re probably hungry too. I’ve noticed you’ve lost some weight from not being able to keep your food down. You need to get your energy back.”
I sit back and glare at him. He’s not doing this to be nice, he’s doing it because I’m a paycheck. “Guess you don’t want to hand over the merchandise damaged, hey? Wouldn’t get a high price for damaged goods.”
“No. That’s not it at all,” he says, clenching his jaw tightly.
“But it would probably look better to give me away all fresh-faced than as some strung-out drug addict.”
His fist comes down on the table, rattling his spoon. “The truth?” he says through gritted teeth. I’m testing his patience now.
“Always,” I answer.
“Seeing you withdrawing from whatever drug you were on was a
horrible experience, but one I’m familiar with.”
“Why, because you were an addict too?”
He shakes his head. “You seriously think I could be one?” His tone
is a little condescending.
“Fuck you. Don’t think you have me all worked out. I didn’t think a law intern at the International Court of Human Rights in The Hague would become a drug addict either, but here I am. Thanks to being kidnapped just like this and sold into sex trafficking. Fucked up shit like that can mess anyone up.” Tears begin to fall down my cheeks, and I angrily brush them away. He doesn’t deserve to see me like that.
This silences him and he takes a couple of moments to collect himself before speaking again. “You were a law student?”
“Can’t a whore be smart as well as having a willing pussy?”
Shock registers on his face, but it’s gone as quickly as it arrived. “I
never said you were a whore.”
“Never said I was one, but here I am, about to be sold again.”
