Page 70 of Bratva Prisoner
Because somewhere along the way, this stopped being about keeping her safe and started being about keeping her forever.
Chapter 20 - Alyssa
Playing house with a Russian mobster shouldn’t feel this natural, but here I am packing sandwiches like we’re any normal couple heading out for a romantic afternoon.
“Ready for our adventure?” Maksim asks as he carries the picnic basket to his car, looking ridiculously handsome in jeans and a t-shirt. It’s nice to see him outside his usual suit and tie.
“Where exactly are we going?” I ask as I ease into the passenger seat.
“You’ll see,” he replies as he pulls onto the street. “It’s a surprise.”
“I hate surprises.”
“You’ll like this one.”
The drive takes us up winding roads that climb steadily away from the urban landscape below. Trees line both sides of the highway, and the farther we travel, the more peaceful everything becomes. After weeks of warehouse visits and family gatherings, the prospect of uninterrupted time with Maksim has me practically bouncing in my seat.
“Here,” he announces as we pull into a small parking area that overlooks the entire city.
The view steals the breath from my lungs. Miles of buildings stretch out below us like a miniature model, and the harbor sparkles in the distance where cargo ships move like tiny toys across the water. We’re high enough that the noise of traffic becomes a distant whisper, replaced by birdsong and the rustle of leaves overhead.
“This is incredible,” I breathe as Maksim spreads a blanket on the grass near the edge of the overlook.
“I come here sometimes when I need to think. It puts things in perspective.”
“What kinds of things?”
“Business decisions. Family problems. Beautiful women who turn my world upside down.”
The last comment makes heat creep up my neck, but I try to play it off with a chuckle. “Must be quite a problem, that last one.”
“The best kind of problem. The kind you don’t want to solve.”
We settle on the blanket with the city spread out in front of us like a living map. Maksim unpacks the basket and produces gourmet sandwiches, fresh fruit, and a bottle of wine that has a name I can’t pronounce.
“This beats warehouse lunches,” I comment before I bite into what might be the best sandwich I’ve ever tasted.
“The chef outdid himself. He’s been experimenting with new recipes since you mentioned you liked the pasta he made last week. He wants to find more dishes you like.”
“He’s cooking for me now?”
“Everyone at Ravenshollow is invested in keeping you happy. You’ve become something of a favorite.”
Over the past weeks, I’ve grown attached to the staff who treat me like family rather than an unwelcome intrusion. Harrison always has my coffee ready before I ask for it, and the gardener shows me new blooms whenever I walk through the grounds.
“I’ve never had that before,” I admit as I lean back on my elbows to take in the view.
“What?”
“People caring about my happiness just because someone they care about cares about me. My parents barely cared about their own happiness, let alone mine.”
Maksim fills my wine glass and replies, “Family isn’t always about blood. Sometimes it’s about the people who choose to make your well-being their priority.”
“Is that what you’ve done? Made my well-being your priority?”
“From the moment I saw you in that alley, yes.”
The sincerity in his voice makes my heart race in ways I’m not prepared to handle. This man has upended every assumption I had about dangerous people, about controlling relationships, and about what it means to be protected rather than possessed.
