Page 45 of Unexpected Bratva Baby
She nods, her shoulders slumping with lethargy. “And you? Where will you be?”
“I’ll be in the main cabin, making calls and coordinating with my men. If you need anything, just ask one of the crew. They’ll be able to reach me.”
Phoebe stands, wrapping her arms around herself as if for protection. “Okay,” she says quietly.
As she turns to go, I call out to her. “Phoebe?”
She pauses, looking back at me over her shoulder.
“I’m truly sorry,” I say, pouring all my sincerity into the words. “For everything.”
She holds my gaze for a long moment, then nods once before disappearing down the hallway.
I watch her go, heart heavy with what I’ve done. I’ve brought her into my dangerous world, shattered her trust, and put her life at risk, but as much as it pains me to see her hurt and afraid, I think I’ve made the right choice. Here, on this yacht, surrounded by my most trusted men, she’s safe, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her that way, even if it means losing her in the process.
17
Phoebe
Iemerge from my cabin the next morning, the anger that consumed me last night now a cold, hard knot in my stomach. The yacht’s polished deck gleams in the morning sun, and the ocean stretches endlessly beyond. A familiar bark breaks the silence, and I turn to see Masha bounding toward me, her tail wagging furiously. She’s wearing a life jacket.
“Masha?” I kneel down, scratching behind her ears as she licks my face. “What are you doing here, girl?”
A man approaches, and I recognize him from Scotland. Yuri. “Mr. Sokolov had her flown in by helicopter last night. He thought you might appreciate the company.”
I stand, keeping my face neutral. “How thoughtful of him.”
Yuri shifts uncomfortably. “He also asked me to inform you that breakfast is ready in the main dining room whenever you’re hungry.”
“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
As he walks away, I look down at Masha. She looks up at me adoringly, and I can’t resist smiling. “Well, girl, what do you say we explore this floating palace?”
I spend the morning wandering the yacht, Masha trotting faithfully by my side. I have a good idea of the layout thanks to the tour Mikhail gave me on our amazing date, but I’m not looking at the opulence around me. I note the crew’s movements and the layout of the decks, always searching for potential escape routes. Frustratingly, I find none.
Feeling discouraged, I slump against the yacht’s railing, watching the waves crash against the hull. The salty breeze whips my hair around my face, and I tuck a stray strand behind my ear. Masha sits beside me, her tongue lolling out as she pants contentedly.
Footsteps approach from behind, and I turn to see Nastya walking toward me. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a neat braid, and she’s wearing a crisp white shirt and tailored black pants with an obvious holster at her waist, displaying the butt of a pistol of some sort. She’s a far cry from my “tourist friend” in Scotland. She stops a few feet away, her posture slightly tense.
“Phoebe, may I talk to you?”
I nod, turning back to stare out at the ocean. Nastya shifts to stand beside me, gripping the railing.
“I owe you an apology. I wasn’t entirely honest with you in Scotland.”
I raise an eyebrow but don’t say anything, waiting for her to go on.
She takes a deep breath. “I was assigned to protect you, to get close and keep you safe, but I need you to know our friendship wasn’t fake. I really did enjoy our time together. I consider you a friend.”
I turn to study her face, searching for any hint of deceit. She doesn’t flinch when our gazes lock, and I catch a flicker of real emotion there.
“You lied to me,” I say flatly. “Pretended to be someone you’re not. Everyone is doing that, and I hate it.”
Nastya nods, her face serious. “Yes, I did, and I’m sorry for that, but my feelings of friendship were genuine. I loved exploring Edinburgh with you and learning about Scottish history. Your passion for your heritage is infectious.”
I think back to our time in Scotland, the laughter we shared exploring the castle, and the way she listened while I rambled on about clan tartans and Highland games. It had felt so real. “How can I trust anything you say now?” I ask, turning back to the ocean. “How do I know this isn’t just another act?”
She’s quiet for a moment. “I get it. I haven’t given you any reason to trust me, but I hope that, in time, I can prove to you that my friendship is real.”
