Page 30 of Bratva Prince
That was weird.
When he left earlier, he seemed so happy and carefree. He seemed like he might actually like me. Guess I was a fool for thinking he’d be different.
We reached the car and he opened the door, which was the act of a gentleman, but didn’t take my hand to help me in the car. Not that I needed it. I was a big girl who could climb in and out of a car by herself. But when he slammed the door shut for me, I felt like his motive was anything but chivalrous.
Ivan climbed into the driver’s seat, starting the car and taking off down the road. Still, no word. Nothing. Not even the radio played to drown out the tension that was so thick, you’d need a chainsaw to cut through it.
It was like I wasn’t even there.
I still existed, right? I hadn’t turned into a ghost or disappeared while he was gone? Surely, he had to see me. But then why did he treat me like I was invisible?
The silence was too much. I cleared my throat and, with as cheery an attitude I could muster, said, “Are you excited to see San Marino?”
“Tch.”
That was his response. A scoff.Well, fuck you too, then.
I crossed my arms, leaning back in my seat as I pouted. Jeez, what an asshole. I wasn’t trying to act like a spoiled brat, but why invite me on a trip, only to treat me like I wasn’t worth the scum on his shoe? It may be warm in Greece, but it was cold in that Maserati—and not because of the air conditioning.
If this was supposed to be a romantic trip—like I’d assumed it was—then it sucked so far.
Confusion hit me when he passed Heraklion airport. Didn’t he need to go to the airport to take off in his jet? Guess not, because he instead took me to a flat area that, although it was still fairly close to the airport, was more secluded.
Yeah, that wasn’t helping my anxiety. Not one bit.
Especially not when I saw another hulking man waiting by the presumed jet we’d be taking.
Ivan parked the car, leaving it in place and not even bothering to let me out.That’s okay. I don’t need him to operate the door.He walked up to the man and they talked about God only knows what. It’s not like I was close enough to hear.
All my instincts were screaming at me to get the hell out of dodge, but I shoved them aside. That bastard owed me an explanation, at least. Why was he acting like such a jerk? I wasn’t leaving until I got my answer and I refused to be one of those girls who wondered, ‘Did I do something wrong?’ when the man acted like an ass. I didn’t do shit to him, so why was he being so cold to me?
I stepped out of the car, waiting by the door because, honestly, I didn’t feel comfortable approaching them. This was the first time since meeting Ivan that I’d felt so unsettled. And the dread only grew with each passing minute.
Not that it meant much, considering I barely knew the man. And yet, I’d slept with him.Stupid!How could I be so goddamn stupid?
Let my inner slut out? Ha! Never again!
All I wanted was to enjoy what little time I had left before what little control I had over my life was stripped from me. IthoughtI’d met a nice man, had a good time, maybe even built a new relationship—albeit a little rushed and unexpected.
But this? No, I didn’t sign up for this.
If anything, it only further validated my opinion of men. Sneaky, conniving bastards. That’s what they were. Selfish. Only in it for themselves. I should’ve known better.
Berating myself now wouldn’t do me any good. That could wait until I was alone in the hotel room later, binging on television and baklava.
When Ivanfinallycame back to the car, he smiled, reaching for my hand. “Are you ready, Willow?” His voice was soft, like the Ivan I’d heard last night.
Was I relieved? No. If anything, it made me feel worse.
Why be nice after not speaking to me and scoffing at me for the last… however long it took us to get there. Why now? Why so suddenly?
No, if anything, I felt more uneasy than I had before. Just like with Mihailo.
I took his hand without saying a word. Hell, I didn’t even bother to smile back. He can’t just treat me one way and then act like it never happened. I was over the whiplash, and I refused to tolerate it any longer.
We climbed the stairs to the jet, and as I stepped inside, my jaw dropped from the amazing view of the interior. A couch on one side, chairs and a bar on the other—this jet was incredible! If I wasn’t so pissed at Ivan, I would’ve taken the time to really enjoy my experience on a jet. But he soured that for me.
A man he addressed as Andrey—the hulking man from outside—stepped into the cockpit, and closed the door.
