Page 71 of Bratva Prisoner

“Why?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.

“Because you looked like you needed someone to give a damn about what happened to you. And because the thought of anyone hurting you makes me want to burn the world down.”

“That’s a little extreme.”

“Not when it comes to you.”

We eat in comfortable silence after that, both of us lost in our thoughts while the city goes on far below. The wine relaxes me, and for the first time since Troy entered my life, I feel genuinely at peace.

“Tell me about before,” Maksim eventually prompts. “What did you want to be when you grew up?”

“A marine biologist. I wanted to explore the ocean, discover new species, and maybe work on coral reef preservation.”

“What changed?”

“Reality. Marine biology doesn’t pay the bills, especially not when you’re putting yourself through college. Business seemed more practical.”

“Do you regret it?”

I consider the question while watching a hawk circle overhead. “I used to. But if I’d stuck with marine biology, I never would have ended up here.”

“Here, being a picnic with a criminal?”

“Here being the first place I’ve ever felt like I belonged.”

The admission surprises us both. I didn’t mean to be quite so honest, but the wine and the peaceful setting have lowered my usual defenses.

“You belong at Ravenshollow,” Maksim declares with absolute conviction. “You belong with my family. You belong with me.”

“Maksim…”

“I know it’s quick. I know you have every reason to be cautious about getting involved with someone like me. But I can’t pretend this is just physical.”

My heart pounds against my ribs as I process what he’s telling me. This powerful, dangerous man is laying his feelings bare, making himself vulnerable in ways that probably don’t come naturally to him.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that somewhere along the way, protecting you stopped being about duty and started being about something else.”

“Something else, like what?”

He reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Something else, like caring about you more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. Like wanting to give you the world and asking for nothing in return except the chance to make you happy.”

The words should terrify me. They should trigger every alarm bell I’ve developed about men who want to take care of me. Instead, they make me want to close the distance between us and show him exactly how much his honesty means to me.

“I care about you, too,” I whisper. “More than I should, considering how we met.”

“How much more?”

“Enough that I worry about you when you’re handling business at the docks. I want your family to like me because they matter to you, and the thought of leaving makes me feel hollow inside.”

“Then don’t leave.”

I groan and answer, “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

Because I’m terrified of needing someone this much, I think but don’t say. Every man who’s ever claimed to care about me has eventually used that care as a weapon, and falling for Maksim feels like jumping off a cliff without knowing if there’s water below.