Page 12 of Bratva Prisoner
“How many people live here?” I ask as we pass through what he casually refers to as “the morning room.”
“Just me, most of the time. Harrison lives in the staff quarters, along with a few other people who help keep the place running.”
“Doesn’t it get lonely?”
I immediately want to take it back. We barely know each other, and here I am prying into his emotional state like we’re old friends.
But Maksim doesn’t seem offended. If anything, his smile becomes more genuine, less guarded. “Sometimes. But I stay busy with work, and my brothers visit often enough to keep things interesting.”
“Brothers?”
“Five of them, plus some have wives. We’re a close family, despite what you might think about people in my line of work.”
There it is again—another hint about the mysterious “business” he’s involved in. I file it away with all the other clues I’m collecting, trying to piece together exactly who Maksim Barkov really is.
We climb a staircase that belongs in a palace, complete with a carved banister and oil paintings of stern-looking men who share Maksim’s strong jawline. The second floor is just as impressive as the first, with gleaming hardwood and Persian rugs that probably have their own insurance policies.
“This is your room,” he explains as he stops in front of a door about halfway down the hall.
The space beyond steals what’s left of my breath. It’s easily three times the size of my apartment, dominated by a four-poster bed that looks like it belongs in a medieval castle. The windows stretch from floor to ceiling, offering a view of gardens that seem to go on forever. There’s a sitting area witha fireplace, a desk that’s probably an actual antique, and a bathroom visible through an open door that’s bigger than most people’s bedrooms.
“I can’t stay here,” I say automatically, even though my feet are already carrying me deeper into the room.
“Why not?”
“Because this is insane. I don’t belong in a place like this. I’m nobody special, just some girl with terrible taste in men who got herself into trouble.”
Maksim closes the door behind us and leans against it while he watches me with those light blue eyes that seem to see straight through my defenses. “You’re staying here, Alyssa. End of discussion.”
“I don’t have money to pay for a room like this.”
“I’m not asking for money.”
“Then what are you asking for?”
“Nothing you’re not willing to give.”
The cryptic answer sends a shiver down my spine, though whether from fear or something else, I’m not sure. I walk to the windows, partly to put some distance between us but also because I need a moment to work through everything that’s happening.
The view is straight out of a fairy tale—rolling lawns, formal gardens, and in the distance, what looks like a small lake with a gazebo on its shore. It’s the kind of place where princesses live in Disney movies, not where broke college graduates hide from psycho ex-boyfriends.
“Think about it logically,” Maksim offers, and I realize he’s followed me to the window. “Where else are you going to go?Back to hotel hopping with money you don’t have? Keep running until Troy eventually corners you somewhere you can’t escape?”
“I could leave the city,” I suggest with a shrug. “Start over somewhere else.”
“With what resources? You told me yourself that your savings are almost gone.”
He’s right, and we both know it. The practical reality of my situation doesn’t leave room for pride or independence. I’m broke, exhausted, and running out of options.
“What do you get out of this?” I ask, spinning around to face him. “Really. Why help someone you barely know?”
“Because I can.” He inches closer, and suddenly, the enormous room feels much smaller. “You need help, and I have the resources to provide it. The alternative—you ending up back in Troy’s hands—is unacceptable to me.”
“Why is it unacceptable? You don’t owe me anything.”
“Maybe not. But I’m claiming you anyway.”
The possessiveness in his voice should terrify me. Instead, it sends heat pooling in my stomach, awakening feelings I have no business entertaining. This man just promised to protect me from my psycho ex, and here I am fantasizing about what it might feel like to be claimed by him in entirely different ways.
