Page 14 of Innocently Captured By the Bratva

“I said I have a solution, and if you’d only listen, we can put this madness to an end.”

“I don’t want to hear a thing you have to say!” she shrieks, her voice echoing down the hallway.

”Fine then! Have it your way. But you’re staying right here until you’re willing to hear me out. This is for your ownprotection, Quinn!” I say, and kick open the door to her room. I turn her around to see it and let go of her.

”Your accommodations, Ms. Desmond,” I say, unable to keep a hint of sarcasm from my voice.

Quinn doesn't respond, her eyes fixed straight ahead at the room as I reach for the key to unlock her handcuffs. The metal falls away with a soft clink, and I watch as she immediately rubs her wrists with relief.

”Was that really necessary?” she mutters, flexing her fingers.

I shrug, pocketing the cuffs. “You didn't exactly give me much choice.”

Her eyes narrow. “Don't expect a thank you.”

”Wouldn't dream of it,” I reply, fighting back a smirk. “Get some rest. We'll talk more in the morning.”

I barely have time to step back before Quinn's hand shoots out, gripping the edge of the door. Her emerald eyes flash with defiance as she glares at me.

”Don't count on it,” she hisses.

The door slams in my face with enough force to ruffle my hair. I hear the lock click immediately after, followed by the muffled sound of her heels stomping across the room.

I can't help but chuckle, despite being frustrated. “Stubborn little firecracker,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair.

For just a moment, I lean against the wall opposite her door, staring at the polished wood, wishing I could see through it. The memory of Quinn in my arms, her body pressed againstmine, floods my senses. I can still feel the warmth of her skin and the curve of her ass.

”Get it together, Zolotov,” I growl to myself, pushing off the wall.

***

I toss and turn in my bed, the sheets tangling around my legs like restraints. Sleep eludes me, and my mind is a chaotic whirlwind of strawberry-blonde hair and fiery green eyes. Quinn's defiant glare haunts me, and her words echo in the stillness of the night.

”This is ridiculous,” I mutter, punching my pillow.

I sit up, running a hand through my disheveled hair. The clock on my nightstand mockingly displays 3:27 AM. Fantastic.

“It's just for her safety and my benefit,” I tell myself, pacing around my room. “Keep her close, keep her safe. Besides, I need her to help me take Charlie down a notch or two. I’m going to put him in his place, and she’s going to help me do it.”

Though the words leave my lips, I know they're a lie. The way my heart races when I think of her, the electric charge I feel when we're close—it's more than just strategy.

I pause at the window, staring out at the city lights. “She's eleven years younger than you, for Christ's sake,” I growl. “And she hates your guts.”

But the rational part of my brain is quickly drowned out by the memory of her scent, the feel of her body against mine as I held her still.

”This is going to be a problem,” I sigh, leaning my forehead against the cool glass. “Nothing good can come of this.”

As dawn breaks, I've made a decision. I'll keep Quinn close and protect her from Charlie, but I'll maintain my emotional distance. It's the only way to keep control of the situation.

But as I hear movement from the guest room, my pulse quickens.

This situation is going to be the death of me.

Chapter 7 - Quinn

I jolt awake, my heart pounding as if I just ran a marathon. I slept fitfully, my subconscious replaying frustrating conversations with Mark before transforming them into passionate imaginary encounters that set my skin ablaze.

It was just a series of nightmares,I tell myself, forcing myself not to think of how tightly he laced his hand around my stomach and pulled me away from the stairs to hold me against him. I still remember every inch of our bodies making contact, the way his presence slithered into me and made my heart race. I shake my head, trying to clear the fog of sleep and unwanted attraction.

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