Page 2 of Bratva Prisoner
She glances up, and the full impact of those green eyes hits me like a sledgehammer. Up close, she’s even more stunning. Her lips are full and glossy, begging to be kissed. A light dusting of freckles across her nose gives her an almost innocent quality that directly contradicts the knowing look in her gaze.
“That depends.” Her voice has a slight rasp that sends heat funneling straight to my cock, and I have to adjust my stance. “Are you going to bore me with pickup lines, or do you actually have something interesting to say?”
Well, look at that. The pretty kitten has teeth.
“What if I told you I own half the city?” I offer, propping my elbow on the table.
She rolls her eyes and sputters her lips. “I’d say you sound exactly like every other guy who’s tried to impress me tonight.”
“And how many would that be?”
“Enough to know the difference between confidence and arrogance.” She sets her phone down and really looks at me for the first time. “Though I’ll admit, you’re better looking than most of them.”
“Most of them?”
“Don’t fish for compliments. It’s unattractive.”
I laugh despite myself. When was the last time a woman called me out like this? “What’s your name?”
“What’s yours?”
“Maksim Barkov.”
“Well, Maksim Barkov, I’m Alyssa.” She extends her dainty hand, which I take without a second thought. “And before you ask, no, I’m not from around here.”
There’s a surprising strength to her grip when she squeezes my palm. Everything about her seems to contain contradictions—innocent yet worldly, delicate yet strong, approachable yet completely untouchable.
“Where are you from?”
“Does it matter?”
“Everything about you matters.”
That earns me a genuine smile, and those dimples make another appearance. “That’s better. Still a line, but at least it’s an original one.”
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“I already have one.” She lifts a glass of something pink and fruity.
“Then can I keep you company while you finish it?”
“You can try.”
I claim the empty chair and settle in, suddenly more invested in this conversation than I’ve been in anything for months. “So what brings you to Viktor’s place?”
“Viktor?”
“The owner. He’s a friend of mine.”
“Of course he is.” She takes a sip of her drink and adds, “Let me guess—you’re one of those guys who knows everyone and owns everything.”
The corner of my mouth lifts.If she only knew. “Something like that.”
“How exhausting that must be,” she replies, fanning herself.
“You have no idea.”
She watches me with those incredible eyes, and I feel like she’s seeing right through whatever facade I usually present to the world. It should be unsettling. Instead, I’m the most turned on I’ve been in years.
