Page 15 of Bratva Prisoner
But Alyssa sees it.
She pauses beside the fountain to dip her fingers in the water, and something in my chest pulls taut at the simple gesture. When was the last time I appreciated this place the way she’s appreciating it right now? When did I stop seeing my home as anything more than a fortress to conduct business from?
Her path leads her deeper into the gardens, past the rose beds my grandmother tended until her death ten years ago.The roses still bloom every spring, maintained by a team of gardeners who know better than to let any part of this estate fall into neglect. Alyssa stops to smell a particularly vibrant red bloom and closes her eyes as she breathes in the scent.
The pure pleasure on her face makes me wish I were there to see it in person rather than through a computer screen. She’s discovering parts of my world that I’ve taken for granted, finding beauty in things I walk past every day without noticing.
Her exploration continues toward the back of the property, where the formal gardens give way to more natural landscaping. She’s heading for the pool area, though she probably doesn’t realize it yet. The Olympic-sized pool and surrounding terrace are hidden behind a carefully designed screen of trees and flowering bushes, creating a private oasis that most guests never discover.
I switch to a different camera feed, one that covers the pool area. The temptation to continue watching from here wars with a sudden desire to see her reaction in person. This might be the first moment of genuine peace she’s had in a long time.
That thought makes my decision for me.
I stand up and stretch as I make a choice that’s probably going to get me in trouble. Following her through security cameras is one thing. Following her in person crosses a line I shouldn’t cross, especially not when she’s clearly enjoying some solitude. But I can’t seem to stop myself from moving toward the door.
The walk to the pool takes me through the main floor of the house and out through the kitchen. I nod to the chef, who’s preparing what appears to be enough food to feed a small army despite Alyssa’s declared lack of appetite. The man has been with us for three years, hired away from a Michelin-starredrestaurant in Paris, and he takes personal offense when anyone skips his meals.
Harrison intercepts me as I pass through the main hallway, appearing with that uncanny timing he’s perfected over the years.
“Sir? Is everything all right?”
“Fine. Just checking on our guest.”
“She declined dinner but mentioned she might be hungry later. I took the liberty of having Chef prepare some light options that can be served whenever she’s ready.”
“Good thinking.”
Harrison’s discretion is one of the many reasons he’s been with our family for over a decade. He doesn’t ask why I’m stalking through my own house, and he doesn’t comment on the fact that I’m clearly more invested in our houseguest than the situation warrants.
“Will you be dining this evening, Sir?”
“Later. Maybe.” My attention is already turning toward the back of the house. “Hold all calls unless it’s a family emergency.”
“Of course, Sir.”
I slip out through the side door that leads to the pool area, moving quietly through the landscaped pathways. The sound of running water from various fountains masks my footsteps as I step between trimmed hedges and flowering trees.
The pool area is my favorite part of the estate, designed for both relaxation and privacy. Tall hedges create natural walls, while strategic plantings ensure complete seclusion from the main house and neighboring properties. It’s where I come whenI need to think, when the weight of family obligations and business responsibilities becomes too much.
My father had the pool installed when I was twelve, claiming the family needed a place to entertain during the summer months. What he really wanted was a sanctuary where he could escape the constant demands of running a criminal empire. I understand that I need more every year.
The sound of splashing water reaches me before I see her, and I realize she’s found the pool. I move closer, keeping to the shadows of a massive oak tree.
What I don’t expect is to round the corner and discover her standing at the edge of the water wearing nothing but white lace panties and a matching bra.
My brain short-circuits.
I’ve seen beautiful women in various states of undress more times than I can count. I’m not a monk, and I don’t pretend to be. But watching Alyssa slide out of her clothes makes me forget every other woman I’ve ever known.
Her body is perfect—soft curves and smooth skin that seems to glow in the fading daylight. She’s smaller than I remember, more feminine away from the harsh neon lighting, but there’s strength in the way she moves that speaks to hidden resilience. When she raises her arms to pull her hair into a messy knot on top of her head, the movement lifts her breasts in a way that makes my mouth go dry.
I should leave. I should turn around and walk back to the house and pretend I never saw this. She deserves privacy and the right to explore her temporary home without being watched by the man who’s supposed to be protecting her.
Instead, I step deeper into the shadows of a flowering hedge and watch her test the water temperature with her toe.
She smiles—the first genuine, unguarded smile I’ve seen from her since we met—and the sight of it barrels into my sternum, knocking the wind out of me. Whatever walls she’s built to protect herself from the world disappear in that moment, leaving behind a woman who’s young and beautiful and completely unaware of her effect on me.
She leans down to cup water in her palms and lets it trickle through her fingers like she’s testing whether it’s real. The gesture is so innocent, so purely joyful, that it makes my chest ache.
