Page 48 of Bratva Bastard

I couldn’t call Crissy now. Not when I needed to show Ana that I was serious about our marriage—even though I wasn’t.

So, instead of calling Crissy like I’d planned, I texted Ana.

Me: Hey, do you want to go out tomorrow night?

Within a minute, she texted me back. Sorokin had probably told her I’d be calling her, knowing I’d have no choice but to give in to his threats.

Ana: Yes!

She sent a bunch of emojis with heart eyes, an eggplant, water splash, and anything else sex-related. How was she so good at faking this?

I sighed, texting back.

Me: Great. Where should we go?

Honestly, I couldn’t give a fuck less where we went. Maybe if we could go to the movies, I wouldn’t have to speak to her. Or if we went to a club, I wouldn’t be able to hear her over the music. Just please, Ana, don’t say somewhere that involves us getting to know each other, because that’s the last thing I want.

Ana: Let’s go to the club!

More hearts and kisses emojis, followed by more eggplants, fire, and even a spicy pepper. God, it was like talking to a teenager.

Me: Sounds great. I’ll pick you up around 8.

The good thing about texts was that I could pretend to be the enthusiastic fiance they expected me to be, without actually having to put a front on. I could scowl, groan, and yell, and she would never know because my texts were perky.

She sent me back a text with a ton of emojis and exclamation points, followed by a picture of her biting her finger seductively.

I rolled my eyes and tossed the phone on the bed, rubbing my face as I groaned.Ding!Another message. I opened the text to see a picture of her titties, pushed together to show more cleavage.

I threw the phone back down, but she sent another message, this time asking what I thought.

Fucking A, what did I start?

How was I supposed to respond to that? Tell her I couldn’t give a fuck less about her titties? No, Sorokin would definitely find out if I said that. I had totreat her like my wife.

Me: Super sexy, babe.

I had to speak the language.When in Rome, do as the Romans do.It took great force, but I sent a wink emoji.

And she proceeded to send me more pictures and emojis, for the next hour, until she was finally ready to take a shower, and said she’d text me after. But not before sending me a picture of her naked body in the shower.

I didn’t respond. After an hour of texting that woman, I was thoroughly exhausted mentally, and couldn’t handle any more conversation. Oh, well. I’d just tell her I fell asleep or something if she asked why I didn’t text her back.

One hour, and I was already exhausted with this “marriage.” How the hell was I supposed to do this every day for the rest of my life?

21

Crissy

Darkness had claimed the sky as night made its presence known. My hands were zip-tied together, my body strapped into the backseat, bound and unable to move.

Where was I? How long had I been there?I had no idea what day it was, who I was with, or where I was going. All I knew was that I was trapped, my fate in the hands of the men who’d kidnapped me.

I blinked a few times to clear my groggy vision, and saw Andrei in the driver’s seat, focused on the road. But when I stirred to life, his eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, a menacing smile curling at the corners of his lips.

“Finally awake, I see.” Amusement filled his tone as his eyes traveled between watching me in the mirror, and watching the road.

“Where am I?” It was probably a fruitless endeavor, but with any luck, maybe he’d tell me what was going on.

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