Page 91 of Baby for the Bratva King

“Yes.” Confusion lines Felix’s brow. “You’re acting strange.”

“My head is scrambled.”

“Well,” says Felix, his sultry voice booming through the lobby. “Allow me to un-scramble it.” He snakes his hands around my waist, and suddenly I feel at ease.

I sigh into his touch. It feels natural to be with Felix. I can relax into his touch, accommodate his size rather well when we have sex, but when it comes to having an important conversation, I freak out.

Our connection comes from feelings I don’t fully understand.

And now I’m supposed to have an honest conversation with him about something very life changing.

His phone pings, but Felix leaves the device in his pocket.

“Aren’t you going to get that?”

“It’s unimportant.”

Three more pings come through.

I arch my eyebrow at him. “You sure about that?”

After two more pings, Felix grunts and takes the device out of his pocket, clicking on his phone. “Fuck, not again.”

“Something wrong?”

Felix pulls me into the living area, switching on the TV.

Please, not my father. I’ve had enough drama for one day.

“What is it?” I say, fighting to keep my voice level, on the verge of exploding.

“Take a wild guess.” Felix throws himself onto the couch, pointing the remote at the screen as he finds the correct channel.

Soon enough, I’m looking at my arch nemesis again.

My father is still wearing the same suit as before, but this time he’s indoors. At least he decided to do something about his hair. His face could use some improvements, but my father has never cared much about his physical appearance. We always did the work for him in that department when he dragged us to his preppy events.

“I apologize for not doing this sooner,” says my father. “You all deserve a sit-down explanation, not a rushed street interview.” He nets his hands, placing them on his lap. “I can confirm that my eldest daughter, Saskia, is romantically involved with Felix Pozharsky.”

“Yeah,” says the slightly condescending interviewer. “I think our viewers are already aware.”

“Of course.” My father bows his head in acknowledgement. “I never wanted this for my daughter, but naturally, children grow up and start doing adult things.”

“Like working in a strip club,” shouts out a member in the audience.

“Strippers have daddy issues,” adds another. “That’s why they strip.”

“This man wants to preach about family, and yet his daughters mysteriously stopped being part of his life.”

“You can find one of them at Neptune’s,” laughs the audience.

“Or online, posting so-called tutorials. We all know she’s selling her body for clout.”

I roll my eyes. The stigma behind pole dancing is fucking hilarious.

“As you can see,” continues the journalist, silencing the audience. “There are a lot of questions and concerns.”

“And for good reason. I raise money for disadvantaged families, so these concerns are valid. Practice what you preach.”