Page 75 of The Bratva's Captive

“Oh?” She didn’t pause with the batter for whatever she was making. “The life of a dangerous Mafia boss can be a boring existence? I find that hard to believe.”

I rested my chin in my hand, watching her. I wasn’t commenting on my life. I was suddenly curious about hers. “Have you always been this stubborn?”

She nodded, not even having to think about it. “Yeah, I’ve always been this stubborn.”

“How come?” I had to imagine that if she wanted to be adopted or let into a family, she’d be a people pleaser and try to suck up to others for their approval and to be accepted and cared for.

“Because I had no one but myself to rely on. I won’t compare my life to yours. I’m sure you’ve had it harder than me, but I didn’t exactly have a good childhood.”

As she glanced at me, I had to admit that our childhoods wouldn’t have ever been similar. I was born into wealth and at a different time than she had been stuck in the foster care system. She was fourteen years younger than me, but it was easy to forget that difference. With how tough and stubborn she was, she acted like a woman older than her peers. Her stubbornness and attitude weren’t for the sake of being a rebel or putting on an act. It was because she had to be tough to get by.

“The only time anyone gave me attention was when they figured I could be used for something.”

She met my gaze then, almost daring me to argue that wasn’t what I’d done with her.

“Did they?” I would track down every single fucking asshole who’d tried to hurt her when she was a child.

To my relief, she shook her head. “No. They never could. I fought them off. Older kids in some of the homes would try to force me into doing things I didn’t want to do. That was when I learned to fight back and slip away. Then when I got older, I figured out that I had to be quick and sneaky to avoid situations I didn’t want to be stuck in.” She shrugged. “Self-defense has been a running theme for quite a while.”

“Not anymore,” I said.

She didn’t agree or argue with that, pouring the batter onto a stovetop griddle.

“That explains your desire to be independent,” I commented.

“Is that a compliment?”

“It can be.” I stood, coming to stand with her as she poured more circles for what had to be pancakes. “But it can also be a flaw.”

“You’d rather me be a weak person and need someone else to handle my problems for me?”

I’d rather you just be mine.

“No.” I stood behind her, hugging her with her back pressed to my chest. She leaned against me as she monitored the pancakes. “But I’d rather you give up this idea that you have to do anything for yourself.”

“Like make pancakes?” She huffed. “I used to enjoy cooking for myself.”

“Then cook. I told you to preoccupy yourself. I don’t like this mindset that you can only rely on yourself.”

She sighed, resting against me. “How can I not? You told me that you don’t commit.”

“I’m committed to making a child with you.”

“Okay, then you’re committed to getting this heir you need. You’re not committing tome.”

“Would you want me to?”

What the fuck? Why am I even suggesting this?

“I’m not going to expect anything from you, Maxim. It would be stupid to when you’ve been upfront from the beginning that you are in control.”

I smiled, resting my check against the top of her head. “So you admit defeat?”

“Never.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Why should I trust you? Why should I believe you if you ever said I could lean on you no matter what?”

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