Page 175 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

I hear a gurgle of contentment and I stop in my tracks. I keep forgetting there’s a baby in the house. And every time I remember, it’s like being stabbed in the chest with an icepick.

I hear footsteps coming. I brace myself, ready to see the face that’s thrown my world into chaos…

And then Charity walks out of the living room, holding the baby in her arms.

Her expression goes cold when she sees me standing there. “Where is Elyssa?” she demands.

“In my bed.”

Shock ripples through her eyes for a moment. Clearly, Elyssa left her out of the decision when she decided to hop in my trunk last night.

“You didn’t know, did you?” I ask.

“No,” she confesses. “I didn’t.”

“That surprises you?”

“It shouldn’t,” Charity replies. “Elyssa’s both naïve and easily manipulated.”

“Is that right? And you think I’m the manipulator in this scenario?”

“Oh, come on! Elyssa’s not used to the kind of mind games that you dabble in.”

This girl has got balls, I’ll give her that. But I wonder: does she have answers to the questions running rampant through my head?

“Has she told you about the night she came to Las Vegas?” I ask bluntly.

“I never asked.”

“Scared of what she might say?”

“No,” she says firmly. “I just knew it wouldn’t matter either way. She suffered some trauma; she ran from it. She was brave enough and strong enough to get herself out of a bad situation.”

“And yet you think she’s too weak and simple to resist climbing into bed with me.”

“That’s different.”

“Why?”

“Because when it comes to men, women can be stupid. Blind. And when it comes to you, Elyssa can be…” She trails off, probably realizing that she’s said way too much.

“Elyssa can be what?”

“Nothing,” she says quickly, bouncing the baby on her hip. He’s started to fuss a little. He keeps craning his head from side to side as though he’s looking for his mother.

“Hey now, little one,” Charity says soothingly. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

“Maybe he needs to be changed.”

“He doesn’t,” Charity snaps. “I just changed him. He’s hungry.”

“Anna’s probably in the kitchen,” I tell her. “She’ll help you make him a bottle.”

Charity stares daggers at me. “I know how to make him a bottle all on my own,” she snaps. “I’m the one who’s helping Elyssa raise him.”

“What a saint you are,” I quip back sarcastically.

Her eyes go cold. “You better not have got her into trouble last night,” Charity says. “You might be able to walk away from everything unscathed but women aren’t that lucky. Especially not women like Elyssa and me.”

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