Page 11 of Baby for the Bratva King

“If I hear any of you bastards speaking about my maid inappropriately, consider yourself fired.”

“He definitely broke her in.”

“Including you, Gabriel.”

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree with you and your father,” he observes, studying me over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip. “You see a pretty face and have to get involved.”

“You met the maid?” asks another.

“Very briefly,” replies Gabriel, my men breaking off into conversation right under my nose. “She’s innocent looking, fair features, nice long hair. Great pair of tits.”

I reach across the booth, grabbing Gabriel by his shirt collar, dragging him across the table.

“Want to make another comment about her tits?”

A smile spreads across Gabriel’s face as he eyes. “Trust you to make a scene behind the PR’s back.”

“The media should mind their own business, as should you.”

“You’re territorial this evening,” comments Gabriel, his gaze turning curious as he watches me. “Perhaps there is something different about this one. What happened to the Miu Miu model?”

“And the Hollywood actress?” adds another.

I grind my jaw. High-profile women are more trouble than the gold diggers. They use my name to boost their own, purposely bumping into me on the street, wanting sex, PR. Greed takes many different forms.

Being wanted by every female in the world is fun for a while, but the novelty soon wears off, and you start going to bed every night questioning people’s intentions.

The world has always been a very disingenuous place. Money buys you luxury cars, the best real estate in the world, but above all else, it shows you the truth. And the truth is more priceless than gold.

“Sounds like you men have too much time on your hands, reading celebrity gossip instead of staying on top of our clients.”

“Your face is hard to miss,” says Ziven, “when you’re plastered across the front page of magazines, holding hands with a new woman each week.”

I’ve learned to protect myself over the years. You can either compartmentalize your emotions, lying to yourselves and those around you, or you can keep your head low and tune out the world. The latter almost makes the demons fully disappear.

Saskia has a similar thought process. The fact that she’s in denial about her feelings, protecting herself, suggests she lacks a lot of trust in the world.

I just hope she is still in the compartmentalizing phase. When you ignore the noise and stop entertaining the lies, you become impossible to reach.

And I’m not ready to let Saskia go just yet.

“We should head down to Soho,” suggests one of my men. “Check out a strip club.”

“I’m good.”

“No, you’re not,” says Gabriel. “You only clench your jaw when you’re stressed, and business is running smoothly at the moment, which tells me you’re thinking about your maid.”

“I’m thinking about killing you.”

“Falling in love could ruin your reputation.”

“Stop pulling shit out of your ass. I’m not in love.”

“You don’t have to be,” adds Ziven. “The second the media suspects something, you’re already fighting a losing battle.”

“You being in love will shatter the illusion for a lot of women as they stop thinking they have a shot with you.”

“End of the sentence. Period.” Gabriel winks at me. “People stop speculating about your love life and start focusing on other areas, like the hotels, the business, the mafia speculations.” Gabriel rises from the booth. “We need to get you in a strip club.”