Page 11 of Bratva Hostage

His eyebrows draw together. “I gave my word to Seraphina that you’d be protected.”

“That’s not an answer,” I snap. “What’s your endgame? Am I a hostage? A convenient pawn? Is there some arrangement where you trade me for something you want?”

He shakes his head. “That’s not how this works.”

“Enlighten me, then.” I set my hands on the table and lean forward. “Because all I see is a group of men locking me in a mansion under the guise of safety. You won’t let me leave. You won’t let me see my sister. You won’t even let me decide if I want your help or not.”

He takes a measured breath and pushes the papers aside. “You can move freely around the estate. You can eat whatever you want and do as you please, within reason. That’s not exactly a prison. Believe me, I’d know.”

I feel a stab of rage. “A gilded cage is still a cage, Dimitri.”

“Would you rather I leave you to be found by Thorne’s men?”

My mouth falls open, and I smack the table. “Don’t you dare pretend this is some grand favor you’re doing me. My father’s a monster, yes, but you’re cut from the same cloth. The only difference is that you’re on the winning side right now.”

He rounds the table and stalks toward me, eyes never leaving mine. “You don’t know me at all.”

My pulse spikes, and I refuse to step back. He stops a few inches away, close enough that I catch a hint of his aftershave. Sandalwood and musk, the scent of power and control.

“Then tell me. Tell me something I don’t know about you. Because I’m tired of living under your roof without understanding why this is my only option.”

He lifts his chin, and the muscle in his jaw twitches. “I’m a man who keeps his promises. That’s all you need to know.”

“That’s not good enough.”

I don’t know what makes me do it, but I close the distance between us. The edge of the table presses against my hip, and I brace my hands on it to avoid losing my balance. He’s taller and broader, and an undeniable heat radiates from him. Anger churns inside me, but there’s something else, too. Something that makes my heart race and sends a flood of warmth between my legs.

What is wrong with me?

This is the man keeping me captive, and here I am, practically panting for him.

But god, he is beautiful.

“You lock me away, treat me like I have no mind of my own, and then act offended when I question it.”

“You have no idea the lengths we’ve gone to in order to keep you safe. None.”

“Then show me. Show me why I should believe you.”

His nostrils flare, and without warning, he grabs my wrist and moves so fast that I find myself pressed against the wall before I can even blink. My head spins from the suddenness of it, and a burst of adrenaline rushes through my veins.

He plants one hand near my shoulder and keeps hold of my wrist with the other. I feel the tension in his grip, strong enough to hold me but not enough to truly hurt. My heart rams against my ribs, and I wonder what I’ve just awakened in him.

His voice drops to a hiss. “I could break you, Cecily. Do you understand that?”

A jolt of fear pulses through me, but it’s tangled with an unexpected thrill. “Then do it. Prove you’re just another thug who wants to bend me to his will.”

He breathes deeply, and for a second, I think he might. Instead, his hand on my wrist loosens, and he shakes his head. “That’s not who I am.”

I stare at his mouth. My anger, combined with something reckless, coils tight in my stomach. His breath slides over my cheek, raising goosebumps over every inch of my limbs. My heart thuds, and the next thing I know, I rise onto my toes and press my lips to his.

The moment I do, everything around me seems to melt into a buzz of sensation. I taste the salt of his skin and feel the warmth of his body. My fingers tangle in the material of his shirt. He remains rigid for a split second, and then his fingers slide down my torso and tighten around my waist.

It’s not gentle. It’s desperate and rough, like he’s punishing me for daring to do this. I have to brace my other hand against his chest to keep from falling over. His tongue slides over mine, and I shiver. He nips my lower lip, and the sharp little bite makes me whimper.

Heat explodes between us, and the room starts to spin. This isn’t a kiss. This is a claim, a mark of possession.

He shifts and pulls me even closer. His free hand drops to my lower back, and his thumb brushes over the strip of exposed skin above my jeans. His touch sends a shudder down my spine, and the pressure in my chest makes me light-headed.

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