Page 29 of Forced By the Bratva King
“Oh, my God, baby!” she shrieked on the other line, her tone a mix of relief and anger. “Are you okay? We’ve been trying to get through to you, but they kept telling us your line was unavailable.”
Mom and her husband lived in Brooklyn; I was in Chicago, but we spoke often over the phone. When Artem had kidnapped me, he did away with my phone, and it had been weeks already since that happened. It was logical for Mom to be worried sick, considering we’d never gone this long without contact.
I rubbed my eyeballs, fighting the urge to come clean to her. “Yeah, I lost my phone; I just got a new one.” I managed to find a suitable lie, although I hated keeping things from her.
Mom was quiet on the line; she must be analyzing why I took so long to get another phone, and I honestly didn’t have an answer.
“Are you alright, though?” she asked. “You seem kinda…off.”
No, I’m not alright. I was kidnapped, and now I’m married to my kidnapper. There’s nothing alright about this whole situation!I blurted out in my mind.
Sadly, when I opened my mouth to speak, I said casually, “Yes, Mom. I’m fine. I just called to let you know.”
“You know you can tell me anything, don't you?”
Please, Mom, stop making this worse than it already is.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Of course, I know that. But I’m fine, I promise.”
She exhaled sharply. “Well, it’s good to know that. I’ll tell your Dad and brother.”
“Yeah, you do that,” I replied. “Take care, Mom.”
“You, too, sweetheart. I love you.”
“Love you, too, Mom.” I hung up the phone and tossed myself onto the comfy mattress, fingers pressing against my temples.
I knew I’d done the right thing by not telling her the whole truth; well, I hadn’t told her anything, really.
Getting off the bed, I headed out of the room to get a drink. I needed a glass of water right now.
During these past few weeks, I’d managed to get familiar with the house and could now freely navigate my way around without Irina’s help. It was my home, so I might as well get used to it.
On my way to the kitchen downstairs, I stopped in my tracks at the sound of the doorbell ringing. That was weird. We never had visitors at the mansion—at least none that I was aware of. There was no one else around to answer the door; Irina wasn’t home, and Artem’s men were all outside, roaming the compound or whatever it was they did to keep watch.
I forfeited my drink for the time being and decided to answer the door. Once I opened it, a gorgeous, tall woman was standing outside with a little girl in her arms. She had a pretty smile, and I could swear that I recognized her. But from where? She glued her dark, serene eyes on me, and her black hair shimmered in the sunlight. The baby girl in her arms was aroundmaybe three or four years old. She was so cute, with soft, dark hair styled at the top of her head. Both mother and child were smiling at me, and I couldn’t resist doing the same.
“Hey, Sierra, how are you?” the woman asked with a friendly tone, as though we were already acquainted.
Oh, she knows my name. Perfect.
“Uhm…” I drawled lazily.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” she asked.
I’m afraid I don’t.
I couldn't tell her that, though. I didn’t want to sound rude or anything.
“We met at the wedding,” she said, searching my eyes, waiting for the realization to kick in, but sadly, it never did.
She was a complete stranger to me. Even if we had met at my wedding, there was no way that I would have remembered her, considering how disoriented I was that day. Although, peering closely at her, she did look a lot like….
“I'm Artem’s sister,” she declared. “Kara Tarasov.”
Holy shit!
This wasnota good first impression—well, second impression, if we count the first encounter at the wedding, which was still vague in my head, by the way.