Page 4 of My Bratva Stalker

A strong, chiseled jaw, dusted with dark scruff, like he’s too busy running his empire to bother shaving.

His hair—thick, dark, streaked with silver at the temples.

His mouth—hard, unsmiling, and still managing to hold a sensual fullness.

But it’s his eyes that stole the air from my lungs, the only time we met. They burned straight through me. Cold, sharp blue. Notbright, not clear—dark, deep, endless, like the part of the ocean where ships disappear.

I shouldn’t be thinking about him like this. He’s my father’s boss. And even worse, he’s Bratva. A man my father works for—managing the financial side of his empire, cleaning money, keeping the books untouchable.

I know just enough to understand that Viktor isn’t a man people defy.

He barely looked at me. Men like him don’t look at women like me.

“Dad,” I whisper, shaking my head. “You don’t ask men like Viktor Maksimov for favors.”

His eyes burn into me. “This isn’t a favor, Marie. This is for your safety.”

I swallow hard, my hands curling into fists.

The texts. The open door. And now, the fucking rose.

Months of feeling a presence.

My father grips my shoulders, his expression grim. “Baby, listen to me.” His voice lowers, turning rough, like he doesn’t want to say what comes next. “If someone is bold enough to leave evidence in your home, this isn’t just some random creep.” His fingers tighten. “This is someone dangerous, someone I can’t handle alone.”

That shakes me. My father is not a weak man. He’s handled himself in situations that would send most men running. Butnow, he looks… powerless.

“I need you to trust me,” he murmurs. “Viktor can protect you in a way I can’t.”

The words settle heavy in my gut.

I don’t want to go. I don’t want to walk into that man’s world.

But I can’t stay here. So I grab my bag.

Viktor

She’s coming.

My hands grip the arms of my chair, my entire body wired, locked, fucking shaking with it.

I should wait. Should sit here calmly, let her walk into my house, let her fall into my trap without a single flicker of suspicion.

But I won’t. Because I’ve waited long enough.

The sleek black car pulls into my driveway.

My breath stops.

The door opens.

And then—she steps out.

My vision blurs with raw fucking need.

She looks so small, so soft, so fucking perfect.

Her deep brown skin glows under the porch lights, her thick thighs shifting, her body built to take everything I’m going to give her.

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