Forced By the Ruthless Bratva Beast (Tarasov Bratva #3)

Chapter 24 – Julia

“Is there anything else you would like me to do for you?” Aida's face lit up with her signature smile as she stood by my bedside, eyes lingering over me.

Aida was by far the nicest person to me—in fact, she was the only person who was good to me in this house. Not that there was anyone else other than Roman and his men, anyway.

Bianca, the other maid, wasn't the kind to talk much; she was always so serious and all about her business. If it wasn't about work, she wasn't interested.

I'd never seen her smile, and I'd been living in this prison for about two weeks now. For a woman, Bianca really needed to loosen up.

But that was none of my concern. I had my own problems to deal with.

Lying in bed, I jerked my gaze at the woman towering over me, my lips curling into a genuine grin. “Thanks, Aida. But I'm okay.”

Her eyes crinkled at the corners, her head slightly bowing. “If you need anything, don't hesitate to call me. I'm just down the hallway.” She took a step, ready to dematerialize.

“Aida,” I called, my voice barely above a whisper.

She paused and returned her focus to me, retaining her smile. “Yes?”

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, holding her gaze.

Her head tilted a little, brows knitting together—a subtle gesture that accentuated her puzzled look. “Doing what?”

“Why are you so nice to me? Not that I'm complaining, but…why?” I insisted, my gaze unwavering as my curious eyes never left her face.

Aida let out a soft scoff. “Because you deserve it and more.” She added almost immediately, “And I'm not saying this to sympathize with you. No. You deserve to be happy.” Her shoulders shrugged. “I'm just playing my part.”

“But you barely know me,” I said, my curiosity longing to hear more.

“Maybe,” she replied. “But I've been around long enough to know a good girl when I see one.” She stepped forward, my voice dropping a little lower. “Can I tell you something?”

She poked my interest with her question, and my brows furrowed as I watched her sit on the side of my bed.

“It doesn’t seem like it, but he's not as horrible as you think he is,” she said, looking into my eyes as she held my hand. “And your life doesn't suck as much as you think, either—”

“Aida—” I tried to cut her off, but she wouldn't let me.

“I know how this looks—trust me, I do,” she interrupted my interruption and continued. “But take it from a woman who's seen a lot…. It'll all work out in the end.”

I honestly wanted to believe her, but I couldn't see the possibility of it happening, not in a million years. The certainty in her tone was admirable, but she clearly didn't know the whole story, the hatred Roman had for me.

“Get some rest.” She concluded her speech with a gentle squeeze of my fingers.

Aida rose to her feet, hit me with another dose of her enchanting smile, and then headed out the door. She took one last look at me before shutting it behind her.

How could she say that my life didn't suck as much as I thought it did?

For Christ's sake, I was literally a prisoner in this house. Sure, I was allowed to roam around the mansion, but I couldn't leave.

Even if I had an escape plan—which I didn't—it would be impossible to execute.

The damn place was swarming with guards, serious-faced men armed to the teeth.

Plus, I needed to be on good behavior for the sake of my brother, whose whereabouts I was still unaware of. Whenever I summoned the courage to ask Boris about Tom, he always said, “He's fine.”

Goddamn it!

That wasn't enough.

I needed more. I needed details.

I needed to see him with my own eyes to make sure that he was truly okay.

Relying on the words of a man like Boris did not help my situation at all. His tone, whenever he replied, was always flat, his expression unreadable.

How was I supposed to get assurance from that?

This suspense was killing me slowly, and that was what Roman wanted.

This was his own way of punishing me; I knew that. Yet that knowledge didn't make it hurt any less.

He couldn't torture me physically, considering my condition, but he sure as hell could torture me emotionally.

He must be basking in the satisfaction that came with seeing me suffer.

I felt a nasty sting in my eyes as they misted on the thought of the blissful moments we shared together—however brief.

It was hard to picture the times when we were lovers…sort of. Yes, I did have my agenda back then, but something about him had managed to slowly creep into my heart.

There was a time during my mission when I'd zone out at work, thinking about his touch and the way he made me feel safe and secure.

Ironic how the same man today was the reason for the fear that overwhelmed me completely.

He'd forced me into marrying him—although without using brutal force—sealed our union on a piece of paper, and then locked me up here.

I barely saw my “husband” twice a week despite living in the same house, and it was always by chance.

Sometimes, I'd be walking around the house when I'd see him on the phone, heading out. Or I would be in the kitchen with Aida when he’d be driving in or out of the compound.

He hadn't said a word to me since the wedding at the courthouse, and up until now, his threats still echoed in my head.

A part of me was satisfied with him ignoring me, acting like I didn't exist. At least that had saved me from his wrath. I didn't have to put up with his anger, disdain, hatred, or resentment toward me.

Then there was the softer part of me that just wanted to see him—to have a decent conversation with the man I’d once felt something so intense for.

I wasn't exactly sure what the feeling was, but Roman had awakened something in me, something that felt genuine.

Deep down, this part of me wanted things to go back to the way they were, but I knew better. It was impossible.

His hatred for me seemed to bloom with each passing day, and every morning that I woke up, my fear intensified.

Roman had become the scariest and coldest living creature I'd ever seen, and I was trapped in the same house with him.

So, Aida, with all due respect, you're wrong. I've accepted my fate , I thought, tossing the sheets aside.

I drew in a deep breath, placing my feet on the fluffy rug at the base of the bed with my fists pressing against the foam as I struggled to stand.

My stomach was so heavy that it made literally everything difficult, including standing. I had to hold on to one of the bed's four posts before getting on my feet.

I groaned at my aching body, both hands reflexively flying to my waist to support my protruding belly from the back.

With careful and cautious steps, I walked toward the door with the intention of stretching my legs.

However, I hadn't even moved five paces away from the bed when I felt it—a sharp pain in my belly that forced me to bend.

An agonizing groan escaped my lips as I reached back toward the post for support. At first, I thought it was just the baby kicking as it usually did, but this pain was a lot worse.

I could feel my legs trembling, my hands shaking with a palm on my stomach. I grabbed a bedpost, tightening my grip around it with wide-open eyes and sharp breaths. I remained like that, frozen, unable to move.

This searing pain clenched my abdomen like a vise tightening around my swollen belly. The contraction rippled through my shuddering body, jolting to my lower back. I gasped painfully, my breath hitching in my throat as I felt it sprint down to my pelvis.

This was definitely not the baby kicking.

I was going into freaking labor.

Suddenly, a warm gush flooded between my legs, trickling down my thighs. My gaze dropped to the floor, where the liquid pooled beneath my feet.

My eyes widened in a mix of shock and fear at the realization that my water just broke.

Fuck. The baby was coming.

“Aida!” I shrieked at the top of my voice.

In a flash, the door burst open, and she came rushing to my aid.