The Bratva's Forbidden pregnancy

Fifteen

Sienna

"My God, you're beautiful," a random guy I'd never seen before said to me, his eyes scanning me from head to toe—not in a creepy way or anything. He simply had admiration plastered on his face.

I smiled. "Thank you."

He nodded and walked past us, me and my parents.

"That's the fourth guy in, what, two minutes?" Dad asked, beaming with pride, a hand tucked in the pocket of his black pants.

Mom glanced at her golden watch. "Hmm. A minute and twenty seconds, to be exact." She smiled at me.

I chuckled, my cheeks turning red. "Come on, it's not like I'm the most beautiful woman here today."

"Nonsense," Mom said, her heels clicking against the marble floor as we headed toward the silver doors. "Did you not look in the mirror? You're amazing, sweetheart. Isn't that right, honey?" she asked her husband, whose elbow her hand was locked in.

"Absolutely," he replied, smiling at me.

I didn't know what it was exactly about me that seemed to draw much attention, but I liked it. The dress I had on wasn't in any way alluring or sexy. This was a charity event, and I was wearing a long red dress—a pretty one, though.

We walked into the grand ballroom, filled with the who's who of high society, all gathered for this prestigious charity gala. The air was filled with soft strains from a live orchestra, and the atmosphere was alive with refined conversations between elegantly dressed men and women.

Dad's tux made him look twenty years younger, and so did Mom's golden gown adorned with tiny pearls that shimmered under the chandeliers.

A couple of tuxedo-clad gentlemen and bejeweled women approached us with warm grins.

"Paul and Natalie Summers," one of them, an old man with gray hair and a white trimmed beard, said to my parents. "It's so lovely to see you again. It's been ages."

Dad shook his hand. "Indeed, Mr. Winston." He looked at the young woman beside the man and nodded subtly.

She was no older than I was, a brunette with blue eyes that complemented her dress. Her slightly tanned skin was glowing, and the diamond pearls around her neck glistened beneath the warm glow of the lights above.

"Mrs. Winston," Dad greeted, acknowledging her as the man's wife.

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Summers," she said, her voice sweet and melodious.

The other associates with Mr. Winston greeted my parents, and they all exchanged pleasantries.

"Sienna, look at you, glowing in elegance," Mr. Winston said to me, laughing lightly.

I replied with a smile, uninterested in the nature of this conversation, but I couldn't be rude, so I just pretended to indulge him.

"I don't believe you've met my new wife," he said.

It was the way he'd said it, my new wife, that almost made me scoff out loud. It sounded like she was another car he'd just recently acquired. But no, I had not met this one yet.

Mr. Winston had a reputation for his six failed marriages in ten years, each ending in a divorce. Mom always said he had a weakness for gold diggers, women who were only after his wealth and status. That wasn't so far-fetched.

"Emily, meet Sienna. Sienna, meet Emily, my new wife," he introduced us.

Yeah, I get it, so please stop saying new wife, I thought to myself.

"Nice to meet you, Sienna," she said, shaking my hand.

"Pleasure's all mine," I replied, forcing out a smile.