Page 47 of Bratva Prince
Willow took that risk and looked at what happened to her—betrayed by her best friend and boyfriend.
Still, she took the risk. Hell, she was braver than me. She took the chance, despite knowing what could happen—albeit completely unexpected.
So why couldn’t I?
Swallowing hard, I faced Willow, which in turn meant I was facing my fears if we’re sticking with the metaphorical crap. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Facing her was one thing, but seeing her reaction as I bared my soul for her to see… I couldn’t do it with my eyes open.
“I felt it,” I muttered, feeling completely juvenile in the moment. My cheeks grew warm, despite the chilly air. I cleared my throat and tried again.
“From the moment you tumbled over me, spilling your cocktail all over my chest, I’d felt this—I don’t know—drawto you. Like, I couldn’t get away. I couldn’t leave you alone and I wanted to be around you. Call it kismet, but I didn’t want to leave your side.”
Finally, I’d opened my eyes to see her watching me intensely. Avoiding her gaze, I looked away, unable to bear any more of her scrutiny.
Groaning, I pulled at my hair. My voice rose as I said, “Do you have any idea how frustrating this is? Whenever I’m around you, I feel so out of control. My emotions are heightened and I can’t restrain them.Ilike being the dominant one, but I can’t be that with you.”
Willow cupped my cheek, guiding me to face her. “Ivan.” Her voice was soft, and for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t snapping at me. She gazed at me with an adoration that made my insides flitter and flop.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so cold to you these past few weeks. I was just soangrywith you for wanting to take me to my father. I opened up to you in ways I’d never done with anyone else—and I mean that in more ways than sex. I told you things that even my closest friends never knew. And you betrayed my trust.”
My head dipped down in shame. Though I knew she felt betrayed, she’d never explained it to me so thoroughly. Her words were less an accusation, but more of a release—as if she’d been holding onto them for too long.
I hurt her.
It was as simple as that; I hurt her. And she was right to be angry. I’d made a stupid assumption based on facts that I thought lined up to perfection. My assumption was wrong. Drugging her, taking her to Moscow, holding her for ransom—all of it was wrong.
Granted, we never made it that far, but the intentions were there.
And now I felt like shit, knowing the anguish I’d caused her when she’d only ever been honest with me.Fuck.
I grabbed her hand that cupped my face, and peered up at her soft expression. “I’m sorry, as well. I was cruel and careless. Vindictive when it didn’t concern you. It’s my fault we’re stuck in this mess. I’m sorry, Willow.”
She shrugged, playing it off. “Eh, I guess I could be stuck on an island with worse. At least I’m not trapped here with Dominik.”
“I thought you said I was the worst person to be stuck here with?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow.
She chewed on her lip, looking down. “Yeah, well, I guess we were both wrong, weren’t we?”
The sound of the rain filled the night air, and we both remained silent for several minutes, pondering these new realizations and admissions of our guilt and attraction.
“You know, you really should get out of those wet clothes, and I’m not saying that because I want to see you naked. Though, I wouldn’t mind the image, either. But if it makes you feel more comfortable, you can cover up with the blanket.”
She nodded and I turned away, allowing her the privacy to undress. Despite the intimacy we’d shared in Crete, or the reconciliation from moments ago, she didn’t want me to see her body, and that was fine. I didn’t need to see her naked to be content with her company.
I stayed facing the inside of the cave until she tapped my shoulder to let me know she was done. When I turned around, the blanket was wrapped around her body, and she held it out on one side, inviting me to share it with her.
“It’s too cold to sit there in the nude. We should huddle together for warmth.”
My eyes flickered over her body briefly, an impulse I couldn’t control. I gulped, scooting closer until our bodies were side by side beneath the blanket.
The wood was too wet to start a fire, so we sat there in the entrance of the dark cave, without heat or light.
“Tell me about your family,” she said, resting her head on my shoulder as we leaned against the wall of the cave. “I know you have two brothers, but you never mentioned your parents.”
I tensed against her at the mere thought of my father or our recent history with our mother. “My childhood wasn’t what you’d call a happy one. Sure, I had Misha and Dimitry, but that was about the extent of my happiness.”
Her finger traced my chest in soothing circular motions as she listened to me talk about my past.
“My father was a wicked son of a bitch, kind of like yours. He was controlling and cruel. He relentlessly beat and tortured us, especially my brother Dimitry. For some reason, he took a liking to me, and referred to me as the Prince. That’s how I got that nickname. Most people think it’s my love of fancy vehicles and my collection of jets and boats, but it wasn’t. It was my father who started it.
