Page 92 of Baby for the Bratva King

“So, tell us,” says the journalist. “What really happened with Saskia and Fleur? Why did leave, and why is Saskia working in a gentleman’s club when she was raised by a loving father? Studies show that an unpredictable father can create anxious or disorganized attachment for the daughter, causing them to seek external validation through male-dominated spaces, such as a gentlemen’s club. I’m sure you can see why these concerns have been brought to light.”

“Yes,” acknowledges my father. “But I would never do anything to harm my daughters. I hope you know that.” He places a hand on his heart, pretending to reflect inwardly about something. “As you know, I lost the love of my life many years ago. The death of a loved one wakes you up. It shows you where your priorities lay. Burying my wife, I realized I took her for granted.”

“I thought you never married,” interjects another member of the audience.”

“Good point,” continues the journalist.

I turn to Felix, sharing a relieving look. My father is slipping up and the audience are hounding him like dogs.

It must be difficult trying to salvage your career with most of the world against you.

“Of course,” says my father. “I forget we never married.” He takes a beat, patting his chest performatively. “Louise was always my wife in my head. I never got the chance to propose to her. I was too slow, scared of rejection. Next month, I used to say to myself, but I kept putting stuff back.” My father drapes his hands over the armchair, staring into the abyss. “I thought I had forever, but life is unpredictable. You must act today, speak your truth, even if it scares you.”

“What is your point here exactly, Mr. Brouwer?”

He takes a long sigh, heavy lines appearing between his brows. “I’m responsible for how I raise my daughters, but I’m not responsible for others, and how they may have a lasting effect on my girls.”

I glance at Felix sidelong, my chest tight.

“Felix Pozharsky has always been trouble.”

I sink into the couch, my heart falling into my stomach. No way has he shifted the blame onto Felix.

“How has he been trouble, Mr. Brouwer?”

“I like to see the best in people, and Mr. Pozharsky excludes a lot of good traits. He’s one of the most hard-working, successful entrepreneurs in this city, and not trying to diminish his success in any way…”

“Then… what?” asks the journalist.

Silence drifts through the interview room, and the camera pans to members in the audience. They sit forward, eager to learn more.

“His reputation with women is rather sticky—for lack of a better term. We see how he treats young women, taking them on lavish nights out; parties, unlimited champagne. Felix will end the night in one of his hotel rooms and—well—to respect these young women's privacy, I don’t think we need to elaborate any further.”

“Felix Pozharsky has a natural charm,” laughs the female journalist, fanning her face. “Even saying his name aloud has me blushing.”

“The Felix Pozharsky effect,” laughs the male journalist. “Even married women are affected, my wife included.”

“All due respect, Mr. Browser,” continues the female journalist. “These young women are consenting adults. What they do in the hotel rooms is none of our business. What are you inferring here?”

“Saskia was the model daughter until she started getting caught up with Felix.” My father straightens up in his chair, hands resting on his lap. “Stripping, swinging around poles and flying overseas with a man she barely knows is not like my Saskia at all.”

“So, you blame Felix?”

“I think he is dangerous.”

Fuck, here we go.

Felix looks at me gravely. He knows exactly what’s coming.

“Rumors exist for a reason,” says my father, reusing his earlier comment. “Felix might be charming, but there’s a lot of darkness inside of that man. This city breeds crime, and we think a billionaire CEO like Felix Pozharsky is innocent?”

Silence sweeps across the audience as people consider his statement.

“I’m not creating drama for the sake of it here, and you know the truth. The devil is hiding in plain sight, and he’s not being subtle about it, either.”

“The Halloween launch party,” states one of the journalists.

“Bingo,” says my father, pointing a finger at the journalist. “He sucks the life out of people, and now he’s doing the same with my Saskia.”