Page 43 of Bratva Bastard

“Gabby, what am I going to do? I love him, and now I’m pregnant with his child. But since he left Trancoso, I haven’t heard from him. He called me once to let me know he arrived, but that was it. I’ve tried calling, texting, but get no answer. What do I do?”

Her voice was soft, comforting me as much as she could over the phone. “You wait. Maxim is a good guy. He’s Zoran’s best friend, after all. And my husband doesnothang out with assholes…anymore.”

I let out half a laugh at her joke, but was too frazzled for anything more.

“But you know as well as I do that he’s a player. What if he grew tired of me and doesn’t want to speak to me again? Or worse, what if he’s been injured again, Gabby!” Was it my insecurities speaking or my rational side? Maybe a bit of both?

Gabby’s breath blew into the receiver. “Come on, Crissy. I’m sure it’s not like that.”

“Then why has he been online and still not answering me? Not even a text to let me know he’s busy or make up some shitty excuse? He’s clearly ignoring me! If he doesn’t want anything to do with the baby, then fine. Whatever. I can get by on my own. But I can’t even get a hold of him togivehim that option, Gab. What do I do?”

“He’s probably been super busy with the Bratva,” she answered, and I could almost see her shrug, with one eyebrow. “You know how those guys are.Work, work, work. Give him time to sort out whatever is going on, and I’m sure you’ll hear from him again. And if worse comes to worst, I’ll have Zoran tell that son of a bitch that he’d better call you, or I’ll kick his ass.”

I laughed through my tears, nearly choking. “You could totally kick his ass,” I teased, already feeling a bit lighter.

“Fuck yeah, I could,” she answered with enthusiasm, making me chuckle some more. “But seriously, Crissy. Don’t stress over him. It’s not good for the baby. We’ll figure this out—we always do. Ever since we were children. Right?”

“Right,” I answered, feeling so much relief from one phone call. But a thick layer of pressure remained, and I teetered on the edge ofjust finetototally panicked.

18

Maxim

Fuck!

Another missed call from Crissy.

It killed me to not answer her calls, but I just couldn’t talk to her yet. Not until I figured a way out of this shit. If I spoke to her now, I’d have to tell her the truth about Ana—a truth I wasn’t willing to face—and I couldn’t break her heart like that.

So, like the asshole that I am, I chose to break her heart by not answering the phone. My only hope was that maybe she didn’t care for me like I thought she did. Then she wouldn’t feel rejected and beaten down when I didn’t answer her calls and texts. She probably thought I’d used her for sex and then tossed her away. And why wouldn’t she? I would if I were in her position.

But why did it feel likemyheart was breaking in the process?

Fuck this whole situation. I refused to give in to a life that I didn’t choose. It was the very thing I criticized Crissy for—yet here I was, engaged to a woman I couldn’t stand because it was what was best for the family. Ironic how the tides had turned.

Deep down, I knew there was a way out of this—and I would find it. I would think of something because I was a survivor, and the only way I’d survived all these years was living by my wit. Unfortunately, I couldn’t talk to Crissy until then.

I stared at my reflection in Sorokin’s bathroom mirror, avoiding what waited for me outside. Surrounding the mirror was a golden frame, go figure. But that was nothing compared to the golden countertop on the sink.

How did I get here—in this bathroom, planning a wedding only just after being engaged? Maybe if I had never killed Soyka or Semyon, or if I weren’t involved in the Bratva, I wouldn’t be there. If my mother had never disappeared, or if I’d left St. Petersburg when I was younger.

Blaming got me nowhere, and it was no time for self-reflection. I had to figure something out and quick, because Ana walked into the bathroom, and I knew what was about to happen.

“Maxim,” she called out in the most aggravating voice. Sauntering across the room, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders, kissing me on the lips.

I pulled away, unraveling myself from her tentacle-like arms that continuously grabbed at me. As soon as I’d slide out from one, another would take root.

“What are you doing in here?” I asked, washing my hands to keep busy, hoping she’d be less inclined to try something—though it wasn’t likely.

She walked her fingers up my back, stopping at my shoulders. Resting her head on my shoulder, she stared at our reflection in the mirror, making a kissy face. Her eyes remained on her own face more than she looked at mine. Which was fine by me, because the less attention from that woman, the better.

“You know, we make a sexy couple,” she said, raising her head from my shoulder to primp her dark, curly hair, something she did often. After reapplying her lipstick, she said, “We have a cake tasting for the wedding in about fifteen minutes that Daddy insists you be present for.”

Smacking her lips a few times, she swiftly turned around to face me. With her hip cocked to the side, she gestured along her body, as if on display. “Well? You haven’t mentioned my outfit. It’s the latest in fashion. Daddy bought it for me, what do you think?”

I stared at her, baffled. What made her think I gave a fuck about fashion? I cleared my throat, forcing myself to answer. “It’s, uh, it’s nice.”

“Nice!” she snapped, crossing her arms. “This outfit cost a fortune—more than anything you and your pathetic brothers could ever afford. But don’t worry, Daddy will pay for your tux. You’ll looksohigh-fashion for the wedding.”

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