18. Becca

18

BECCA

I was disappointed but not surprised when I didn’t see Ivan the next day. He’d left me so suddenly in Emily’s room that I could only assume he judged me for having the baby of his enemy.

Or maybe he thought less of me for “letting” myself get raped. I was the victim in this, but who knew? Maybe from his perspective, I was an idiot to ever get involved with Dom to be in the position of his raping me.

I didn’t have that perspective about it, but Ivan’s abrupt departure from the room was telling. Something bothered him to walk away like that, without a single response to what I shared. I wasn’t deluding myself to think he’d react with overwhelming sympathy. He was a hard man who lived a hard life. But still, he could have at least tossed a damn, that sucks remark to ease the sting of bringing up the difficult topic.

All I got was avoidance. He was, again, busy with something for the Bratva. However, I wasn’t alone. Margie was a blessing, and while I couldn’t get over how good she was with Emily, entertaining her as she showed me a recipe for cookies that she swore would brighten any gloomy day, I debated asking her for advice.

I didn’t want to tell her about how I was raped either. That wasn’t a story to broadcast all over the place, and likely not appropriate to tell a virtual stranger, the hired help who’d just shown up.

She beckoned me to want to speak up. I had no girlfriends to count on for advice. My mother had died too soon, probably due to Steven’s plans. My grandmother was the only semblance of female companionship, and she’d passed too soon as well. At work—the courier job I was no doubt fired from upon my first no-call, no-show—I had coworkers to do small talk with, but no confidants. No friends.

“This rainy weather isn’t all that’s dragging you down today, is it?” Margie asked as we stirred the dough. Two batches were her goal. We’d have one here for ourselves and the guards, then more to have Ivan bring to his brothers in the city the next time he went.

I didn’t know much about Mafia organizations, and it seemed silly that they could be normal people who enjoyed a basic treat like homemade cookies.

“What do you mean?” I blew out a breath to send my hair flying up and out of my vision.

“You seem upset.”

I shrugged, glad Emily was napping so I could have an adult conversation. “I don’t like being idle.”

She smiled. “Well, good thing we have this task of baking cookies. Do you miss your job?”

I shook my head. “No. Not really. It was just a dime-a-dozen thing that never would have ended up in a higher pay.”

“Family, then?”

I bit my lip, considering what to tell her. She was in deep with the family, but I wasn’t sure if she knew what Ivan was doing. I had a hunch she was ever present in their lives but didn’t involve herself with what they did.

“Well, Ivan’s hoping to kill my father, who likely arranged for my mother’s death. And my grandmother passed away years ago.”

She nodded, somber. “Is she the one who made that?” Her spatula pointed at my necklace. “I notice you like to touch the pendant often.”

I did then, smiling. “Yes. It’s special to me, all I have to remember her by.”

“It’s beautiful.” She leaned in to see it closer as I held it up, but as I lifted it, the chain snapped. “Oh, crap. Emily’s been tugging on it so often. I knew that would happen sooner or later.”

“Oh, no worries,” Margie said as I set the necklace on the window ledge. “I have a spare chain in my bag. I don’t use it. I think it’s gold, not silver, but it’s yours if you’d like.”

“Thanks.” She was too sweet.

“I’ll grab it after these are in the oven.”

“She was my inspiration to become an artist.”

“Oh! That’s fantastic.”

Is it? If I hadn’t been so eager to pursue a career in the arts, I never would’ve met Dom.

But then I never would’ve had Emily, either. She was my heart and joy. I didn’t ever consider being raped a blessing, but my baby certainly was.

“It’ll be nice then when Ivan can bring you to the house with the others.”

I frowned. “The others?”

“Mila and Amy.” Margie smiled wider. “And I’m sure they’ll bombard you with questions, seeing as you’ve already had a baby.”

I wasn’t following. “Who are they?”

“Alek’s and Nik’s wives. They’re both expecting.”

“Oh.” I blinked, shaking my head at her presumption. “But I’m not… I’m just…” I laughed once. “I’m a hostage here. Not with Ivan like that or anything.”

“Maybe for now,” she teased lightheartedly.

“For good.” I couldn’t shake the horrible feeling of his just walking away from me last night after that raw and exposing story I told him.

“Nonsense. I called it with Mila. And I predicted it with Amy.” She turned to wink at me. “I’ve got a motherly intuition about those boys. I’ve seen the way Ivan looks at you. And Emily.”

“And how’s that?” He could barely face me last night when I told him I’d carried Dom’s baby.

“Like he’s one inch away from being besotted.”

I laughed harder. “Yeah, right .”

“You don’t think so?”

“No. I know so. I realize I haven’t known Ivan for long, but I highly doubt he’ll ever look at me as anything but as his hostage. For the purpose of killing my father.”

Each time I thought about it, it seemed so surreal. It was almost like I was looking forward to Steven’s death, and how messed up was that?

He’d always been a nuisance in my life, the instigator of nothing but asking favors . I’d never wished anyone dead, but the second he admitted that he’d arranged for someone to take Emily, he was firmly on my shit list.

Fortunately, Margie understood that I didn’t want to talk about Ivan and her fanciful ideas that he and I could be together. I wouldn’t be joining the ranks of the other Valkov wives, even though it sounded like it would be nice to be included like that. I’d always wanted a sister, and having sisters-in-law would be a blessing.

Just one I’ll never have.

After the cookies were baked and we tasted a couple, she left me to my own devices while she did laundry.

I was too rested to nap, and I didn’t have much to do to tidy up, so I took advantage of Emily’s quiet and grabbed a notebook from the study. Even though the pages were lined, it was an ideal source to sketch and draw. Sculptures were my favorite medium, but something about the abundant light in this place called to me.

Seated near the huge windows that opened out to the gardens out back, I set the tip of the pencil to the paper and drew. Doodled and sketched. A few versions of landscapes filled the pages, but then I switched to more abstract images. Then rough ideas of sculptures.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had the freedom to just sit and be. To think and draw. To create.

Grateful to Ivan for this chance to relax and draw, I got into it, producing many pages of plans and ideas—most of which I doubted I’d ever have a chance to see to fulfillment. It’d been months since I last went to my studio, and I knew better than to hope to go there until Murphy showed up and “freed” me from being a hostage.

I wasn’t in any hurry to leave, and that was a startling concept to accept. I was happy here. Pampered. Not facing undue stress and the workaholic rate of being a single mother without many prospects.

Ivan treated me well out here, even if he couldn’t stand to be near me, and I wished that I could stay.

Later that evening, as I prepared Emily for bedtime, I snuggled with her on the bed and watched her eyes droop shut. Letting her rest with me in the bed never turned out well. I was always too afraid I’d roll over her. Sometimes I needed her company, though, to see that she was healthy and well as proof that I was doing the best I could by her.

Stroking my finger over her cheek, I sighed and wondered what would be next for her, too.

If Ivan let us go without any trauma, I’d need to find another job. He’d told me that my apartment would be paid for until I was “released” and that meant I had a place to go home to, but I’d need to job hunt. Then Hannah. What would I do for a sitter? I hoped she was all right, but I couldn’t dare ask her to be the sitter again.

As I envisioned a life after being here with Ivan, confident that I would remain unharmed since I had been all this time, I despised having to leave at all.

Being near Ivan felt right. Hearing Margie assume I’d be another woman to fit in with Mila and Amy sounded perfect.

I wished, from the depths of my heart, that things could be different. Just like I couldn’t regret Dominic raping me because it gave me Emily, I refused to hold a grudge against Ivan for capturing me and holding me hostage here. Without his doing that, I never would have had a chance to know that bliss of him fucking me hard. I never would have had an opportunity to slightly get to know him—enough that I missed him when he was gone.

“I wish I could give you everything you deserve,” I whispered to Emily as she slept.

A big, safe home with room for her to play to her little heart’s content instead of being cramped in my dated, chilly apartment. Her own room, without any bright lights from the street shining through the curtains. Brand-new clothes instead of threadbare thrifted items. Food without any worries that it’d run out.

All of it. Ivan had done this for me, for her, without a single hesitation, and I appreciated it.

More than anything, I wished I could let her continue this slow and tenuous bonding experience I'd witnessed between them. How he gazed at her when he held her when I wasn’t available to take over. How she peered at him with wonder and batted her hands at his face as she babbled.

I appreciated all he’d done, but the depth of my longing and desire for him didn’t stop there. Still, after all these weeks, I felt the phantom tingle of his cock filling me so harshly. That delicious thrill of surrendering to him as he teased me then made me come so hard. The touch of his hands on me, free to do as he pleased while he kept me tied up, and that was the kicker. I knew that he wouldn’t hurt me for the hell of it. He’d understood, without any words or cues given to him, how to push me so far that I’d stop dwelling in the thoughts clouding my head and just feel . To just let go. That liberation was amazing, something I knew he would be the only master of, and it filled me with desolation that no other man would ever compare.

It was all too easy to wish for a life with him. Ivan was a rugged, rough man, but it was too damn simple to see how he could fit in with us. As my expert lover. As Emily’s patient daddy. As our formidable protector.

I blinked, overwhelmed with wanting him and missing him. This realization of love had snuck up on me, but I knew without a doubt that I was falling for him.

I was catching feelings for the man I had no business desiring at all.