Page 40 of The Bratva's Captive

He stared and didn’t budge.

Please have a heart. Have a change of heart and let me go.I swallowed and blinked slowly, rushing to form my thoughts. “I’ve never wanted to be owned. Not by a man. I’ve never wanted to be sold or controlled. Possessed like a thing.”

He uncrossed his arms but made no move to speak or touch me. Under his dark stare, I realized that eye contact with him was a more potent captivity than his brute strength or the lock on the door.

“I’ve tried my hardest to stay out of trouble. To avoid getting near the bad men out there. I’ve tried to avoid the same fate the other dancers have met lately, and now…” I hated the slight whimper that escaped me. “And now I’m afraid. Please, just let me go.”

Deep down, I panicked for the baby he’d left me with. I wasn’t begging for my release, but for this child’s too.

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“What?” I shook my head, hopeful that he’d speak and not give me that silent treatment again, unnerving me with his stares.

“What are you talking about? The other dancers.”

“They’ve been taken from the club. Traffickers and other Mafia men take them at the end of the night and keep them for their own gains.”

When he raised his brows, seeming surprised, I frowned.

This is news to him?

I didn’t see how he could be oblivious about the fate of the dancers. I bet they targeted many clubs, not just Stanley’s. It didn’t matter, though. If he wanted to feign ignorance, whatever. I wanted to get the fuck out of here. He’d saved me, and I felt safe around him, but the idea of his kidnapping me contrasted against that sense of security.

What is wrong with me?

I was so hungry and tired that I was delusional to ever think this Mafia boss could be a source of comfort and security. He fucking kidnapped me!

I licked my dry lips. “Please, let me go, sir?—”

He huffed a sharp bark of laughter. “Sir?”

“What else am I supposed to call you?”

He rubbed his hand over his jaw, seeming amused again, but I wasn’t in a rush to be let in on the joke. He could laugh at me all he wanted. Just as long as I could be promised my release.

“Maxim,” he replied. “My name is Maxim. And I will allow you permission to do one thing.”

I gritted my teeth, fuming at his wording it like that. That I had to wait for him to grant me permission. Like he was my boss. The cocky smirk on his face suggested he was loving this power play way too much.

“I’ll let you rest here,” he said as he backed up.

I defied him, sitting up and trying to get out of bed again. Chasing after him too quickly, I got dizzy and clumsy, dropping back onto the mattress.

“You will rest,” he ordered as he backed up more. “Until I say otherwise.”

With that, he stepped out of the room.

A definitiveclickof the lock sounded after his exit.

I fisted the blanket in my hands and lost the fight with the scalding-hot tears. They streaked over my cheeks, evidence of the wretched anger that I aimed at myself for ever being caught like this—captive and owned.

My worst fear.

18

MAXIM

Sloane wasn’t the first person I’d kidnapped.

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