Pregnant Bratva Possession: Surprise Pregnancy Mafia Romance (Vadim Bratva Book 3) by Veda Rose

Author:Veda Rose [Rose, Veda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17 - Mariana

“Not again...”

I dropped the dry cloth and scurried to a corner, busting my way through the bathroom door. My knees hit the cold floor and I packed my hair to the side, hunching over the toilet as the turkey salad I had for lunch poured into the white ceramic shit bowl. My eyes watered, my heart throbbed, my throat closed up and I shut my eyes, retching, and gagging until my stomach hurt. I gripped the ceramic, my nails dug but did not penetrate.

“Dammit!” I spat and rose to my feet. My knees wobbled and I held the wall for support. Cold water rushed from the tap. Cupping my hands in the wash basin, I splashed my face with some and felt relief seep in. Turning the small knob, I turned off the faucet and raised my head. I cringed. My reflection in the mirror was ghastly. Pale, dull, and wet. My hair stuck to my forehead and my skin had lost some color. I blamed the piles of paperwork on my desk. And I blamed Vlad.

I slid my hair behind my ears and stood up straight. There was a stain, hovering just above my chest, on my blue sweater. My nose scrunched up and I squeezed my face. It stunk... reeked of turkey salad. I bunched up the fabric in a viselike grapple and held it forward, turning on the faucet again. The sound of rushing waters resonated in the bathroom accompanied by my soft whimpers. I glared at my reflection; my eyelids brimmed with red-hot tears and my lips quivered as I scrubbed and scrubbed.

A teardrop spilled on my cheek and I gritted my teeth. “Fuck!” I released the sweater and grasped both sides of the washbasin. More tears spilled and my shoulders shook. I blamed Vlad. I blamed him for the heartache and depression that slowly crawled in. I sniveled and elevated my head. The huge watermark on the wool-knitted fabric stared back at me, but I ignored it and headed out of the bathroom, clutching my stomach.

The second I entered the air-conditioned hallway, I heard an excited high-pitched shriek. “Ah, there you are!” I paused in my tracks, dropping my hand to my side. What was she doing here?

She did a dramatic catwalk, holding her head high, and swinging a tiny purse on her long acrylic fingernail. She looked like Barbie, with a hot pink crop top and mini skirt, wedge heels, and blonde highlights in her hair.

Except for the blood-red lipstick on her lips. That screamed danger and nothing like Barbie.

“Sophia.” I greeted curtly, but only because I had to. The rest of me wanted to gag in the toilet like I’d done a while ago.

Seeing her heightened the depression sinking in, and I silently hoped my face hadn’t lost more color. Sophia bent forward for a hug, planting air kisses on both sides of my cheeks. Her perfume was strong; a mix of an unfamiliar fragrance, and something that smelled like coffee.

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