Page 48 of Bratva Prince
“He told me that he liked me the best because I was cunning and intelligent. Which was silly because my brothers are, too. But he praised me for my ability to get out of sticky situations. That was possibly the only praise he’d given us. He was so… merciless and brutal. It became too much to bear, so we killed him. Well, Dimitry technically delivered the final blow, but we’d plotted it together. After that, Misha took over the family business.”
“You mean, being involved with the bratva?” Willow asked, intrigued by my story. She didn’t even waver at my mention of killing my father, and I realized that was because she understood. If she could, she would probably kill her own father.
I also realized that at least I had my brothers to help me get through it. Willow was alone. She didn’t have siblings to support her or keep her spirits lifted. She had to do that on her own. In a way, I’d formed a newfound respect for her.
“Yes. We were born into it. Raised in the lifestyle. Truth be told, it’s all I’ve ever known. I’ve often wondered what life would’ve been like if I’d been born into a normal family. One with loving parents who supported me and treated me with respect. But what’s the point of thinking “what if?”
Willow nuzzled her face closer, in the nape of my neck. I wrapped my arm around her, scooting her into my side. “What about your mother?” she asked.
“My mother? That’s one rabbit hole you don’t want to go down. My mother disappeared years ago. We’d all assumed she was dead until recently when we found out otherwise. She was there when Dimitry’s wife was kidnapped and shot by the man who did it, but disappeared immediately after. It’s like she’s always running away from us, no matter how hard we try to find her.
“Is that so much to ask, to learn the truth behind why she left us with our tyrant father? Why has she refused to ever show up in our lives? Hell, we have someone following her in Saint Petersburg because we don’t know how else to find information.”
Talking to Willow about my past was surprisingly enlightening. I’d finally released some of the torment of the past that had been holding me back. Things I could never say to my brothers because I didn’t want to admit that our mother’s absence, or our father’s tyranny, affected me so much.
Speaking about it out loud healed me. Not fully, but enough to lighten some of the load that was weighing me down.
I glanced down at Willow who was watching me. Her eyes held something deeper, and I saw a heat flash through them as her fingers slid along my chest and around my neck. She directed my face toward her and kissed my cheek softly.
“Thank you for sharing that with me. I know it wasn’t easy admitting something so personal.”
I guided her face back to mine, brushing my lips against hers. “Thank you,” I whispered, and she pulled me back into the kiss, deepening it as she slid her tongue into my mouth.
The energy between us had shifted so many times—from anger, resentment, and betrayal to a peaceful understanding—I had no idea what to expect.
Or maybe I did.
She pulled away and looked at me, her gaze holding millions of questions, but only one would be spoken out loud.
“Ivan, will you please stay with me?”
I knew what she meant. She wanted me to stay by her side, be with her. It was what I’d wanted in that moment, too.
“Yes,” I answered, and she pulled me into another kiss.
23
Willow
His lips were soft, like the cloud I was floating on when I felt his touch against my skin. Tender, unlike the lustful, passionate touch I’d felt before. As his fingers brushed against my shoulder and to my back, it left a trail of goosebumps that prickled against the cool air.
The blanket had fallen to our waists, our hands too occupied elsewhere to bother holding it up. As the kiss deepened, his arms wrapped around me, pulling my body against him.
Our flesh touching sparked the flame that had been doused the past few weeks, growing from a burning ember to a bright fire that ignited my very soul.
Because when we kissed this time, there was love and respect. Our feelings were more than an alcohol-infused night when a man tried to grope me and Ivan saved the day.
It was because we’d been through more in these past weeks than we ever had before on both a physical and emotional level. Together, we’d survived this island. We’d survived a plane crash. Together, it felt like we could survive anything.
And that thought brought me a peace I never imagined I could feel.
His lips traveled from my mouth to my ears, and he gently bit my earlobe, making me shiver against his chest. It unleashed the side of me that wanted more with Ivan. The side that I’d let free that night in Crete.
I grabbed his hand, sliding it to my breast, and he pinched my nipple, teasing it with his fingertips. My head fell back, and he dove into my neck, sucking gently at my nape.
The sizzle of electricity traveled through my limbs as my legs wrapped around his in response, pulling him closer. He pushed against me, hard and firm, making me wet, throbbing against him.
Heat pooled in my belly, anticipating where this was leading. And I wanted it. Oh, did I want it.
