Page 28 of Forced Bratva Bride

“We need to talk,” she said.

“Good morning to you, too,” I said, keeping my voice even as I tried to hold back a smile at her matter-of-fact tone. “Sleep well?”

“Wonderfully. Nothing like being held against my will to guarantee sweet dreams.” Her sarcasm was sharp, and how I’d grown to love it.

I motioned at the chair. She sat and without asking, I poured her a cup of coffee and slid it over to her. Larissa wrapped her hands around the warm coffee mug and took a sip. She closed her eyes, and I saw the corners of her lips turn as she savored it. When she opened her eyes again and met mine, I chuckled. “You Italians and your coffee.”

“You know us,” she shrugged and, this time, smiled wholly.

“Spoilt brats,” I chuckled.

“Wait till you see us around our pasta,” she shook her eyebrows in my direction. The moment wasn’t lost on me. We were…playing. Like friends, almost.Almost.

I leaned back in, amused. But of course she didn’t let me enjoy the moment.

“Now that you know I'm innocent and can't give you any information about... whatever it is you think my brother did, you can take me back to him.”

I shook my head once, a clean, decisive motion. “That's not happening.”

“Why the hell not?” All five-foot-seven of her vibrated with indignation. “You said yourself deemed me innocent last night and apologized for making me see what went down.”

“I said you might not know anything consciously,” I corrected her. “There's a difference.”

“So what am I supposed to be, your prisoner until... when exactly?”

I stood, circling my desk until I reached the other side of the desk. She looked up at me through those curled lashes as I perched myself on the table right in front of her. “Until I'm certain your brother had nothing to do with the attack on our Vadim-Ustinov-Lebedev operation.”

Her brow furrowed. “The what?”

“We have an alliance now with the Vadims and Ustinovs. They’re powerful in the Bratva, and important to us. Until I know your brother won’t hurt our alliance, you stay here.”

“That's bullshit,” she spat. “Gastone wouldn't care about any Bratva. We’re the Mafia for—”

I raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

Her cheeks flushed pink. “Yes, I'm sure. My brother isn't stupid enough to start a war with you people.”

“You people,” I repeated, the corner of my mouth lifting. “Such diplomacy.”

“You're the ones who kidnapped me! My brother has never kidnapped anyone. That speaks volumes, doesn’t it?”

“I prefer to think of it as an involuntary protective custody arrangement.”

She made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a growl. “Are you always this insufferable, or am I getting special treatment?”

“I save my best material for Italian Mafia princesses with attitude problems.”

“I don't have an attitude problem,” she said, glaring up at me. “I have a problem with being held hostage by a man old enough to be my—”

“Careful,” I warned, although the age gap barb struck precisely where she intended it. “I might be seventeen years your senior, but I'm not decrepit yet.”

“I noticed.” The words slipped out before she could catch them, and I watched with satisfaction as her eyes widened slightly at her admission.

The tension in the room shifted, electric and dangerous. I cleared my throat. Suddenly, even the thought of this house being devoid of her stung my chest. Either way, it wasn’t so much that, as the simple fact that she was still my leverage, indicating I couldn’t give her what she wanted.

“Here's the deal, Larissa. I can't let you go until I know for certain that your brother isn't gunning for my family. But I'm willing to make you a deal.”

She eyed me warily. “What kind of deal?”

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