Page 101 of Baby for the Bratva King

“Well,” says my father, scraping his feet. “After Felix’s little stunt today, we have a problem on our hands, but all will be resolved soon.”

I slip my phone, trying to sneakily make a call to Fleur, but my father knocks it out of my hand.

“What might you be doing there? Calling for help?”

“I don’t need help,” I say, picking up my phone, sticking it back into my pocket. “But you could certainly use some therapy.”

My father goes quiet, offering me his gloved hand.

Hard fucking pass.

“Saskia,” he says, encouraging me to accept his hand.

Chasing the receding tide will never make you happy.

Freedom has always been an illusion, but now I have the chance to make it real. All I need is a pole and a working camera. The rest is history.

“Come with me. Let’s get you fixed up.”

A tear rolls down my face as I fight the urge to resist. It feels like I’m fighting the current, defying the laws of physics.

But surrendering to this feels different. There’s no reward to letting go, no satisfaction. I do not gain anything with my father.

And this unfortunately makes me realize how valuable Felix is. No matter if he’s sticking up for himself, saying words just to make something stick—he still listened. He understood me. We’re both broken in different ways, and it feels reassuring to know that even a powerful billionaire can feel empty inside.

He’s everything I never thought he was.

But he’ll still put himself first.

And in a strange kind of way, he inspires me to do the same.

“No.” I plant my feet firmly on the ground, refusing his hand. “Two years ago, I would’ve done anything, and hell, part of me is still waiting for you to change. But we both know the truth.” I fold my arms across my chest, turning away.

My father inhales a deep breath, the black costume blowing in the breeze. He takes back his hand removing his hood, and in the faint streetlight, I can almost work out his face. His eyes are hidden in darkness, shadows playing on his face, but I can just about make out the wiry smile on his face. And it makes me want to throw up.

Fuck this. Looks like I’ll have to camp out at Felix’s place tonight.

I turn around and make a run for it, but my father grabs my wrist. His reaction times are quick—impressive for a man who sits behind a computer screen all day.

I take advantage of my free hand—the key still lodged between my knuckles—and go in. I aim for his stomach and stab him hard, but Vesper chokes out a laugh, tightening his grip on me.

“Not bad, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Vesper swings his arm around my neck, pulling me close. My head meets his chest, that unloved part of me finally feels safe.

But I snap out of my delusions and confront the truth before it confronts me.

“Get the hell away!” I shout, pressing my foot on top of his, doing anything to break free.

My father grabs my neck, swinging me around to face him. Two black eyes stare back at me, and I feel like I’m being sucked into the void, like in my reoccurring dream.

Funny enough, the dreams stopped when I met Felix.

“You’re coming with me,” says my father in an ice-cold tone. He produces some kind of syringe and stabs me in the arm.

Explosive pain fills the area. My eyelids want to close, consciousness quickly draining from my body.