Page 32 of Forced By the Bratva King

“A romantic getaway. Nice,” I chipped in, mirroring her smile as she high-fived me.

“Oh, shit,” Artem exclaimed softly. “Irina is on sick leave, and I don’t—”

Before I could think things through, I was cutting in. “I’ll take care of Zoya while she's away.”

He paused, surprise flickering in his gaze as he glanced at me.

“We’ll have a good time together, won’t we, Zoya?” I stretched out my hand, and she left Artem’s arms, sliding into mine.

“You’d do that?” Kara asked, pleased to hear my proposal.

“Yes,” I said, playing with the girl in my hold. “I used to babysit my younger brother all the time. I’ve got this.”

Artem peered at his sister, and she shrugged her shoulders. Dropping her voice to a whisper, she muttered, “I trust her enough,” though I heard her anyway.

“So?” I asked Artem, who was still a little skeptical.

“Fine,” he finally agreed.

“Okay, it’s settled, then,” Kara announced with a single clap. “Thank you, Sierra. I owe you one.”

I couldn’t help matching her warm grin.

At least now I had someone to keep me company in Artem’s absence.

Chapter 12 – Artem

All through my shower, I had been craving Sierra and imagined boning her in several positions, especially under the running water. I was hard as a rock, and the only thing on my mind was how to feel her skin against mine, how to kiss those cherry lips, and the nasty stuff I would do to her sexually.

She didn’t know this, but she was messing with my sanity; since our first time together, I couldn’t seem to have enough of her. I wanted her all day, every day, but I had to keep myself in check. I had to subject my body to this torment just so I wouldn’t come off as creepy. But how long would I keep torturing myself like this? Sierra was my wife, and her body belonged to me; it was mine for the taking anytime, anywhere. I shouldn’t be considering stuff like this.

However, deep down, her feelings mattered to me. What she thought about me and how she saw me was of great concern to me. In my own crooked way, I wanted to do right by her, to try and make her feel more comfortable in this life that I had forced her into. I didn’t want her to think that all she was good for was just sex. She was more than that.

But every time I set my eyes on her, my third leg moved in my pants. Thoughts of her often made me hard even in the most inappropriate of times, and I had little or no control over this situation.

With a white towel around my waist, I stepped out of the bathroom, hoping to find her lying in bed, or sitting on the sofa, but she wasn’t in the room at all. If she was, I’d have taken her once again, cajoling her into an intimate moment.

She could never resist me, anyway—and no, it wasn’t out of fear of what I’d do to her. Sierra simply found me attractive, as I did her. It was mutual, and each time I initiated sex,it was always mind-blowing. She was such a great lover, and somehow, she’d snuck her way into my stone-cold heart. She’d occupied my mind and had managed to make other women look unattractive to me.

I exhaled sharply, hands on my waist as I scanned the room for any sign of her. Her scent was everywhere, but not her. “Sierra?” I called out and received no reply.

Changing into something casual, I headed to Zoya’s room to spend some time with her. “Zoya?” I knocked on the door. “Are you there?”

When I received no reply, I pushed the door open and slowly walked inside. “Zoya?”

Still no reply. There was no sign of her at all. Her toys were littered across the floor, and a few dresses were scattered on the bed, but she wasn’t in there. As I peered at the room, my eyes drifted to her window; it was open, and the wind was moving the curtain to its rhythm.

Then, a silly thought hit me: Sierra was supposed to babysit Zoya. She’d volunteered to do so. What if…?

“No, she wouldn't.” My brows furrowed as I thought about the possibility of my wife wanting to hurt me by escaping with the child.

She had a motive to do me harm; Ihadkidnapped her and practically forced her into marrying me. She knew how much Zoya meant to me. Who was to say she wouldn’t want revenge for me ruining her life?

I withdrew my cell and called the phone I gave her. It rang, but she didn’t answer. My muscles coiled in frustration, but I forced myself to remain calm and called again. Still, it rang, but no one answered. Did she really…?

After the third call, I hurried out of Zoya’s room and dialed Yuri’s cell as I descended the stairs. It was still ringing on the other line when I smelled something nice from the kitchen. Thearoma filled the air, and soon, I heard Zoya’s tiny voice echoing off the walls. With a quickened pace, I got to the entrance, and there they were, having a good time.

Sierra was taking a plate out of the oven, with an apron wrapped in front of her, as she laughed at Zoya’s words. Zoya was sitting on the shelf, her small legs dangling off the furniture as she ran her mouth about God-knows-what.