Page 29 of Innocently Captured By the Bratva

“Oh, I might need a drink to register the praises you might accidentally send my way,” she says sassily and spins on her heel.

She's not going to make this evening easy for me, I can already tell.

As Quinn turns to leave, I instinctively reach out and grasp her wrist, the heat of her skin searing into my palm. She freezes, her eyes widening as they connect with mine. The air between us crackles with tension, and I can feel the pulse beneath my fingers quickening.

“Not so fast, Desmond,” I murmur, my voice low and dangerous. “We're not done here.”

She arches a brow, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. “Oh? And what else did you have in mind, Zolotov?”

I tug her closer, our bodies nearly touching. The scent of her perfume wraps around me, intoxicating and alluring. “A dance,” I say, my gaze locked on hers. “You and me, right now.”

Quinn hesitates, her eyes searching mine. I can see the internal battle raging within her, the desire to give in warring with her stubborn determination to resist me. “I don't think that's a good idea,” she whispers, but her body betrays her, swaying slightly toward me.

“Afraid you can't handle it?” I challenge, my lips curving into a smirk.

Her eyes flash with indignation, and I know I've hit a nerve. “I'm not afraid of anything,” she hisses, her free hand coming up to rest on my chest. “Least of all you.”

“Prove it with a dance. We have to show people we’re together, remember?”

I let go of her wrist and reach out my hand, an invitation and a challenge all in one. She gazes at it for a prolonged moment, her chest rising and falling with each quickened breath. Then, with a bold lift of her chin, she places her hand in mine.

As I lead her onto the dance floor, I can feel the eyes of the room on us, curious and speculative. But I don't care. All that matters is the woman in my arms and the fire burning between us.

We move together, our bodies in sync despite the tension. Her hand rests on my shoulder, and mine on her waist, the satin dress smooth beneath my palm. The heat of her skin ignites a fire within me, threatening to consume us both.

Quinn follows my lead with ease, her movements graceful and fluid. Yet there's a noticeable distance between us, adeliberate space that signals her resistance. She’s determined to stay in control, to show she’s unaffected by my closeness. But I can see the flush creeping up her neck and feel the rapid flutter of her pulse.

Around us, the whispers grow louder and the glances become more pointed. I catch snippets of conversation—speculation about the notorious playboy and the beautiful stranger in his arms. Quinn tenses, her steps faltering as she realizes the attention we're attracting.

I twirl her out and back in, her back to me, before waltzing to the front. My eyes linger on hers, but hers dart around the room nervously.

“Why are they all staring at us?” she asks, her voice tight. “It's like they've never seen two people dance before.”

I pull her a fraction closer. To help her relax, I try to tease her a bit. “Maybe they’re wondering what a wonderful woman like you is doing with a man like me.”

My little quip works for she relaxes a little with a chuckle. “They might be right about that.”

“Or,” I suggest, “they’re probably assessing us as a couple.”

“Assessing us?” Her eyes widen at my comment.

“Uh-huh.” I give her a playful wink. “We haven’t even kissed as yet. Right about now, some of those men are placing bets on which one of us wants out of this relationship. We’re missing the steamy passion these folks love to lap up.”

She shivers, her fingers curling into the fabric of my suit jacket. “I'm not here to be a spectacle, but are you suggesting we kiss?” she retorts, but there's a breathlessness to her words.

“Then why are you here?” I challenge, my hand sliding lower on her back, edging toward dangerous territory. “Why agree to make people believe we’re together, knowing the risks?”

Her eyes meet mine, green and gold and full of thoughts I can’t pry out. And then, to my surprise, her lips curve into a smile that borders on a warning. “Fine. We can put on the show they so want.”

I grin, the thrill of this turn of events coursing through my veins. I had only teased her to help her calm down, but this outcome is more than I hoped for. “Be careful what you wish for, Quinn. You might just get more than you bargained for.”

“I doubt it,” she whispers, leaning up and whispering in my ears, before bringing her face an inch away from mine.

I let my hand drift lower on her back, savoring the way her breath hitches at my touch. She leans in closer, her lips just a hair's breadth from mine. The world around us fades away, with the music and the crowd becoming little more than background noise.

Right now, there is only Quinn—the scent of her perfume, the warmth of her skin, the tantalizing promise of her lips so near to mine. I feel the anticipation rising, the desire to claim her, to make her mine.

My fingers tighten around her waist, pulling her flush against me. Her hands glide up my chest, coming to rest on my shoulders. We're so close now, our breaths mingling, our heartbeats racing in tandem.

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