Page 59 of Baby for the Bratva King

All things considered, Saskia did well to get away.

“Is this why I’m here?” she shivers, her tone becoming more disappointing. “Because you wanted the cameras to see us together? Because you wanted to⁠—”

“Slow down,” I tell her, rising from the table. I offer her my hand, but she refuses. “Come here. Let’s talk about this someplace more private.”

She pins me a scolding glare, rising from the chair without my help.

Saskia storms off, heels stabbing the ground, hips swishing in her green dress. She walks straight past the entrance to the elevators, swizzling back around when she realizes she forgot the way.

“In here.” I guide her under a stone archway, calling for an elevator.

We slide in and ride in silence, her heavy breaths filling the space.

“How did you find out?” asks Saskia, her tone more leveled.

“Someone recognized you from the nightclub, and the journalist raised this to your father.”

“Vesper,” she corrects. “That man is not my father.”

I feel her hurt like it’s my own, my chest cracking down the middle.

I believed that for a while too. My father was fucking and drinking himself into an early grave. He indulged too much, getting caught up in the pleasures, needing instant gratification.

I wanted to be nothing like him, but things change, people get hurt, and you have to face the truth and reevaluate some things.

The elevator doors slide open, spitting us out at the top floor. I hover the key card over the door, the electronic lock buzzing as the room unlocks.

The presidential suite doesn’t disappoint. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer a pleasant view of the city. Granted, there isn’t much to see tonight—rain turning the atmosphere hazy, but the sentiment is nice.

“How did Vesper respond?” says Saskia, dumping herself on the gilded couch. She stares through the window, watching the rain come down, or maybe her own reflection, since it’s dark out.

“He denied it,” I respond, gauging her reaction.

She doesn’t look very surprised.

All that wealth and she still had nothing.

I head to the cabinet, browsing through the scotch collection, but I catch myself as I’m taking a glass from the shelf.

Trailing my finger over the embellished rim, I realize a few truths about myself. I’m gradually getting caught up in my father’s habits.

I return the glass, shutting the cabinet door harder than I mean to.

Saskia turns around, frowning, her eyes glassed over with tears. “My sister Fleur says karma will come, but it’s taking its sweet time.”

“The best things in life always take time.”

“That’s what she says too.”

I step back out into the room. “You have a reason to be inpatient. By the looks of things, your sister had it slightly easier.”

Lines appear between Saskia’s brows. “When it came to the events, yes. Her gowns were more modest, less figure-hugging.”

“She was the smiling face. You were the prized possession.”

The most gut-wrenching thoughts pass through my mind as I think about other men touching her, thinking they have access. Saskia was my property before we even fucking met. I took her virginity, I finished deep inside her pussy and claimed her as mine.

I grind my jaw, hating myself for the way I did it. In a shower of all places. The disrespect. The way I bent her over, fucked her from behind…