Page 32 of Brutal Reign (Bratva Kings #3)

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

HOPE

Sunlight burns against my closed eyelids, dragging me reluctantly from sleep. For one blessed moment, I forget where I am.

Then it all comes flooding back.

My eyes fly open, taking in unfamiliar surroundings. Kin’s elaborate dinosaur paradise comes into focus around me. Artistic murals cover the walls, and a couple of toys sit on the nightstand. Decorating this room probably cost more than most people’s cars.

I bolt upright, heart slamming against my ribs. “Kin?”

There’s no answer, and judging by the unmade twin bed on the far side of the room, he’s no longer here.

I scramble out of bed, searching the space and the adjoining bathroom, but he’s not in here, and the door is hanging wide open. Shit! How could I not have realized my son had left the room? I must have been out cold after the craziness of the last day.

My lungs squeeze as I imagine my little guy wandering around this strange house, lost and scared. I grab my robe thrown over a nearby chair and belt it hastily, and rush into the hallway, disoriented by the mansion’s unfamiliar layout.

“Kin!” I call out, my voice edged with desperation.

I swore to myself I wouldn’t let Kin out of my sight for even a moment. And here I am, barely twelve hours in, and I’ve already blown it completely.

I make my way to the main staircase, taking the steps two at a time, blood rushing in my ears. When I reach the main floor, I spin in a circle, trying to remember which direction the kitchen is in. I was half-asleep when Yarik escorted us down for a meal yesterday.

When I hear voices coming from the back of the house, I freeze. One of them is unmistakably Kin’s, his high-pitched chatter carrying down the hall. The relief is intense, but it’s quickly replaced by fresh anxiety. Who is he with?

I push through the door to the kitchen, wild-eyed and breathless. “Kin!”

My son sits at the massive kitchen island, happily licking jam from his fingers, while Pavel sits beside him, coffee mug in hand, looking completely at ease.

The scene is so ordinary, domestic even. Morning light spills through the glass doors, and the air smells like coffee and something sweet. Aside from the mess on the counter, everything looks calm, especially Kin, who seems perfectly content.

“Mama!” Kin’s face lights up with genuine happiness. “Pavel made me pancakes!”

“I see that.” I force myself to breathe and smooth down my wild hair.

“There’s more for you.” Kin gestures to a stack of misshapen and, frankly, lumpy-looking pancakes.

“Thanks, but I’m not very hungry. Coffee would be great, though,” I say, eyeing his mug with jealousy.

“I can get that for you.”

Pavel rises from his seat, moving to the counter, where a fancy-looking espresso machine sits.

In jeans and a simple black T-shirt, he looks like some kind of Viking god.

The dark fabric clings to his chest in a way that makes it impossible not to remember how that solid wall of muscle felt pressed against me.

Stubble shadows his strong jaw, and when my gaze drops to his mouth, I’m reminded just how talented it is.

Focus, Hope!

“Pavel can’t cook,” Kin announces matter-of-factly. “But he tried really hard.”

A surprised laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it.

I catch Pavel’s mouth quirking up in amusement. “Everyone’s a critic.”

I sink into the chair beside Kin, the adrenaline finally draining from my system. This morning was a wake-up call. Even though everything turned out fine, I can’t let my guard down like this again.

“I was scared when I woke up and couldn’t find you,” I admit, brushing a hand down Kin’s cheek.

“Me too, but Pavel showed me on the camera that you were sleeping.”

“Camera?” My eyes snap up to meet Pavel’s as a coffee cup lands in front of me.

He shrugs, not looking the least bit apologetic. “I have security cameras in every room of the house. Standard procedure.”

“I see,” I bite out, hoping my acidic tone communicates how I feel about the invasion of privacy. Kin is watching me closely, so I hold back from unleashing on Pavel. But we will definitely be discussing this later.

“What’s up with the jam?” I ask, pointing to the jar.

“It’s the Roossian way to eat pancakes,” Kin explains.

“Not pancakes, remember? Blinis,” Pavel corrects.

“Right.” Kin nods seriously. “Bleenies.”

“You’re learning. Next, you’ll be drinking black tea with a sugar cube held between your teeth.”

“Huh?” Kin’s head tilts to the side.

Pavel’s eyes crinkle at the corners, amusement softening his features. “Also a Russian thing.”

Pavel passes me the sugar bowl, our fingers brushing.

I’m surprised to see him here at all. Simon barely took meals with us, which suited everyone just fine.

Other than our late-night raids of the fridge, we were never allowed to set foot in the kitchen.

We had to wait dutifully in the dining room to be served; the whole feeling was cold and impersonal.

Often, I would sneak some fruit and pastries onto the terrace and have an impromptu picnic with Kin there.

Still, it’s only day one. Plenty of time for things to go downhill.

Pavel cuts a piece of the misshapen pancake already covered in jam and offers it to me on a fork. I look down at his offering, then back up at him. There’s a challenge in his eyes.

“Come on, angel moy. Kin and I made them together. Give it a try.”

My eyes narrow because he knows he’s got me trapped. Kin is watching, and I can’t refuse in front of my son. I lean forward and take a bite, the sweet tartness of the fruit mixing with the slightly dense pancake. I make a soft sound of approval and lick a drop of jam from my lower lip.

Pavel’s gaze locks onto my mouth, his smugness evaporating into something more intense. Heat flares in his eyes, and I feel an answering warmth spread through my chest. The kitchen suddenly feels smaller, thick with tension.

“See? Told you she would love it,” Pavel says to Kin.

“I helped mix!” Kin announces proudly.

Before I can respond, the kitchen door swings open and Yarik walks in. He surveys the disaster zone with visible horror. There’s flour dusting every surface, sticky batter congealing on the counter, and a stack of bowls piled haphazardly in the sink.

“This kitchen has survived gunfights with less damage,” he says, his accent thick. His eyes land on Pavel. “Did you...cook?”

Pavel shrugs. “I made breakfast. Is that cooking?”

“It’s cooking for someone who’s never made a damn thing in his life.”

Kin perks up suddenly, pushing his plate away. “A deer!” He points excitedly to the window, where sure enough a graceful doe is picking her way across the vast lawn behind the house.

Yarik’s expression softens. “Ah, we have many. Would you like to see it closer?”

Kin gives me puppy-dog eyes, knowing I’m a sucker. “Can I?”

My first instinct is to keep Kin close, but he’s so excited, and I can keep an eye on him through the massive glass doors that lead to the garden. “Okay, but don’t wander off.”

Yarik nods and leads my son through the back door with a gentle hand on his shoulder. And then they’re gone, leaving me alone with Pavel in the messy kitchen.

I rise from my seat, desperately needing more caffeine. I fumble with the buttons, trying to remember how Pavel made it work.

“Let me,” he says, appearing behind me. His large hands cover mine, gently moving them away from the machine. His chest brushes my back, and his familiar scent, clean and masculine, floods my senses.

Suddenly, I’m transported back to London, making tea after hours of Pavel worshipping my body.

He’d appeared in my cramped kitchen like this, overwhelming the small space with his size.

His hands had roamed from my waist to cup my breasts as he kissed my neck, and then he’d swept everything off my little kitchen table and lifted me onto it.

He’d used his mouth and fingers to make me come until I was boneless and shaking.

A wicked pulse stirs between my legs, but I grit my teeth against it. When he sets a perfect cup of coffee in front of me, I’m so lost in the memory that it takes me a moment to realize it. When I finally meet his eyes, they’re burning with awareness.

His mouth curves up as he settles back against the counter, arms crossed, biceps bulging beneath the sleeves of his fitted T-shirt. Tattoos stretch across his thick forearms, wrapping around them like inked temptation.

I tear my gaze away, cheeks flushing. I’m suddenly hyperaware of my disheveled state—wild hair, bare feet, wearing nothing but a thin silk robe—while he looks like he belongs on a billboard.

“Thank you for being with him this morning,” I say, fiddling with the belt. “I didn’t realize I’d slept so late. I nearly had a heart attack when I couldn’t find him.”

“You needed your sleep.”

“About those cameras in the bedrooms… Pretty creepy, don’t you think?”

“Bathrooms are camera-free, but everywhere else is monitored. Standard security protocol.” He shrugs like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Even in a secure compound, you can never be too careful.”

His words are a reminder that this compound is hard to get into… and just as hard to escape.

I glance toward the garden, where Kin is crouched beside Yarik, both of them watching the tree line with fascination.

Pavel pulls something from his wallet and slides it across the kitchen island: a platinum credit card.

I stare at it, not touching the piece of plastic. “What’s that for?”

He shrugs. “Clothes, toys, books, jewelry, cars... I don’t care. There’s no limit. Buy whatever you or Kin want.”

I narrow my eyes. “What’s the catch?”

With Simon I had a strict monthly allowance, and all my purchases were carefully monitored. So being handed a card with no rules feels like a trap.

“Why does there have to be a catch? I’ve never had a wife before, so excuse me if I’m getting something wrong, but I thought it might be nice to spoil you. Take care of you.”

I can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes. “Right. And I can buy whatever I want?”

“Within reason. You want a Lambo, buy it. You want a gold bathtub shaped like a dinosaur, go for it. But maybe no exotic animals. They’re too much work to take care of.”

I shake my head, somewhere between exasperation and amusement. “I honestly can’t figure you out, Pavel Fedorov.”

He moves in, caging me between his arms and the island, his body heat sinking into my skin. His voice is a low rasp against my ear. “There’s nothing to figure out. I have money, and I want to spend it on you. You and Kin.”

I swallow, throat tight. What I wouldn’t give to believe him.

To stop dissecting every kindness for ulterior motives, to stop waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But life has taught me one thing: men don’t hand over unlimited credit cards because they’re feeling generous.

There’s always a price, always strings attached.

Before I can get swept up in his pretty words, I press a hand to his chest and push him back. His eyes darken, but he doesn’t argue.

“Dinara will give you a tablet,” he continues. “Use it to order whatever you want online and have it delivered here.”

“A tablet?”

“Yes, so you can shop or do what you like. No outside communication, obviously, but you will have access to our intranet.”

My heart does a little leap. Access to a device means a way to reach Uncle Chen. An intranet is a private network, and I’m sure it’ll be locked down tight, probably monitored too. But every system has vulnerabilities if you know where to look, and I’ve picked up some tech skills over the years.

Before I can question him further, Yarik and Kin burst back into the kitchen.

“We saw a deer!” my son exclaims. “It was so close!”

“Really? That’s so exciting, sweetheart.” I smooth down my robe, trying to ignore how Pavel’s eyes seem to track my every movement.

Yarik launches into a story about the local wildlife, and Kin listens with rapt attention, but I can’t focus. My mind is racing. I’d written off any chance of contacting Chen, but the tablet opens up possibilities.

There’s still so much I have to figure out, like how we’d manage to get off the compound, but two hundred million dollars could solve a lot of problems, including how to slip past Pavel’s security.

I need to be smart. Stay aware and alert, so if there’s ever an opportunity to leave, I’m ready. And it starts with learning this place inside and out.

“Yarik,” I interrupt gently, turning toward the older man. “Remember that tour you offered? I’d love to take you up on it today.”

His face breaks into a genuine smile. “Wonderful.”