Page 13 of Forced Bratva Hostage (Dubrov Bratva #15)

My shoulders are tight with stress. The way I spoke to Tatiana earlier this afternoon is bothering me.

I didn’t mean to be so harsh. Her brother is a total dickhead, and I don’t want to be anything like him.

But when she compared me to him, I could see the resemblance. I was nasty, cold and abrupt to her.

He’s kept her locked away, a secret to the rest of the world. I always thought he was trying to protect her, but the more she speaks of him, the more I realize she’s been living in hell.

She was protected from the world to the point where she didn’t even get to have a life.

Part of me keeps insisting that her being upset is not my problem and I need to ignore it. She is here for one reason—to play a part in the revenge I have planned against her brother. Nothing else matters.

But she’s still a human being filled with emotions, spirit and needs.

Who am I to treat her like shit? That’s not the person I want to be.

What harm would a night out do, anyway? If I were right there with her and we took some guards … I can go dancing with her for a few hours, and we can both blow off some steam.

Fuck knows I need it just as much as she does.

My other voice snaps at me, She’s your prisoner, not your friend, not your partner, not your real wife. I let out a sharp breath to push the voice away and stand up from my desk.

It’s eleven. If she gets ready now, we can get to the club at midnight, just when it’s picking up.

Walking through the house, I head towards the guys standing guard near the kitchen. I want them to bring the car around and come with us.

The kitchen is quiet. Their usual chatter isn’t drifting through the air.

“Marcus, David, can you two please—" I come to a halt as I stare at their bodies, lying crumpled against the open back door.

What the fuck?

Hurriedly, I pull my gun from the side holster and kneel next to Marcus, pressing my fingers to his neck to check if he’s still alive.

He is.

His heart is beating slowly, with a steady rhythm.

“Marcus?” I hiss, keeping my voice low.

I lean over to check on David, too, and spot the note tucked just beneath his jacket.

My heart is racing as I tug it out and unfold it, my eyes darting everywhere, expecting an ambush.

But the note is written in a familiar, neat cursive.

Tatiana’s handwriting. It has the same style she used when she signed our marriage certificate.

To whoever reads this:

I’m sorry I had to drug them, but there was no other way to get past. It’s just a few sleeping pills that I put in their water bottles. They will be fine. I promise they’ll wake up. I didn’t use too much or anything.

T.

I smirk as I read it for a second time.

She drugged my guards, but was soft-hearted enough to leave a note so that no one worried about what had happened to them. She felt guilty for doing it. That’s amusing.

Standing up, I slide the gun back into its holster and shake my head. “What am I going to do with this girl?” I sigh.

I slide my phone out of my pocket and open the security camera app.

Searching through footage of the night, I get to the part where she snuck out the back door.

She takes the keys from Marcus, heads out to the black SUV, and climbs in.

She drives out of the estate in his car, and the guards at the front think it’s him, opening up the gate without checking.

Dammit.

So, she left twenty minutes ago.

I flick to the tracking app to locate the SUV. While it’s loading, I hurry to my car and climb inside.

She’s got a head start, but I know where she is, and I can catch up easily.

At the gate, leaving the mansion, I stop and inform the guards about what has happened and tell them to go and help David and Marcus, to carry them to a bed or something, because if they stay like that all night, they’re going to wake up hurting.

Then I follow the tracker into town, towards one of the popular clubs on main street. So she is going dancing, after all, with or without my permission.

It makes me smile to know that she refuses to let anyone hold her back. Even as a prisoner under my control, I actually don’t seem to have much control over her at all.

She finally came up with an idea that worked for her escape, and she carried it out perfectly.

I’ve been trying to decide if I should go straight over to her and let her know she’s been caught, or if I should watch her for a while first. By the time I get to the club and park outside, I’ve made the choice. I want to watch her and figure out what she’s up to.

She might be here to dance, but I imagine she’s here for other reasons, too, and it might benefit me to know what they are.

Tatiana is standing at the bar, looking a bit tense. She looks out of place and stiff. She leans over the bar counter to shout over the music so that the barman can hear her. He nods and leaves to get her whatever drink she ordered.

From a corner on the other side of the bar, I have my eyes glued to her.

It’s loud in here, with bass vibrating through the air, pulsing like it has a life of its own.

The dance floor is packed, and every now and then, the DJ shoots a thick cloud of smoke over the crowd, which catches the lights and lasers and creates quite a show.

The barman sets two drinks in front of Tatiana, and my chest tightens, my eyes start darting around to find whoever she is with.

But to my relief, she picks up the one drink, which turns out to be a shot of something, and downs it, then takes the other drink and sips it. I order a drink and continue to watch her.

After a while, I decide to move closer to get a better view of her. But I still want to stay out of sight.

Tatiana leans against the bar, watching the crowd, still tense and awkward. She moves a little, dancing in time to the heavy beat. The little black dress she’s wearing is covered in sequins that catch the colorful lights and lasers, dancing over her body.

It’s a thin-strapped, tight dress that dips low in front, showing off her gorgeous cleavage and that tiny waist of hers.

I clench my jaw, fully aware that I shouldn’t be watching her in that way. But I can’t help it.

She’s gorgeous, and that night in the pool is still haunting me.

When her drink is finished, she orders another shot. The alcohol must be working, because she’s looking a lot more relaxed than when she first got here.

After the shot, she turns towards the dance floor with a smile on her lips. Slowly, she makes her way through the crowd to an open space near the edge of the dance floor.

Watching her dance is almost like a violation. She has no idea I’m here. She has no idea my eyes are hungrily taking her in.

Her body sways and dips and turns to the beat. The more she dances, the more she lets go, and I can easily see the freedom in her movements, a stress release she’s so desperately needed.

This side of her is new to me, and I admit, I’m really enjoying it.

Waving my hand in the air, I get the barman’s attention and order myself a tequila. I’m going to be here a while if I intend on letting her dance away her stress—and I have no problem with that.

She’s too beautiful, too fascinating—as long as I have my eye on her, she isn’t going anywhere. There’s no harm in letting her have fun. Besides, watching her is as much fun for me.

There are over a hundred girls in this club, and I haven’t even noticed them. She has my full attention. And it’s not only because she is my prisoner. Everything about her is captivating. She’s magnetic to me.

There is a smile on my face as I watch her.

In my mind, I’m going over all the things she’s been doing lately. The pranks, mischievous and playful but never harmful, show her naughty side. The incident in the pool showed her sexy side. The way she never backs down and refuses to let me control her showing her strength.

Everything about her is beautiful in a different way.

Fuck.

No.

I shouldn’t go down that rabbit hole. She is my prisoner, my revenge plan, a means to an end, and I can’t go getting caught up or distracted. I think I need to get her out of here. It’s time to go.

I push away from the bar, annoyed with myself, ready to put an end to this night. My loyalty is to Grig, and every choice I make that leads me away from completing my plan for revenge or getting distracted and delayed is a choice that I’ll have to live with forever.

My jaw is already clenched tightly when I look towards the dance floor, towards her, and see a man hitting on her. The moment I see him reach out and touch her waist, my annoyance triples, and the muscles along my jaw feather with tension.

But my feet stopped. I pause, wanting to see how she will react to his advances.

Why would I care? I don’t know, it doesn’t matter. I can’t bring myself to move forward.

The guy is good-looking, fit, and confident. There is no reason she should turn him down. She’s a beautiful girl, and he’s an attractive guy. My stomach knots as I watch and wait.

At first, she’s polite, turning her back on him and taking a step away, but he follows her. She looks over her shoulder and shakes her head—no. She’s not interested. But he ignores her and slips his hand around her waist, tugging her back against his chest.

She becomes more adamant, pushing him off and turning to glare at him.

He laughs and lifts his hand, touching her cheek, wrapping it around the back of her neck, and tugging her towards him again.

She shoves his hand away, and a sour expression touches his face. Her rejection has annoyed him. And before he can do anything stupid, I’m already stepping between them, cutting in and putting an end to this.

“Hi, gorgeous, did you miss me?” I ask, turning my back on the guy, blocking his view of her.

“Hey, I was dancing with her,” he blurts out loudly, tapping me on the shoulder. I turn to face him fully.

“You were dancing with my girl?” I ask, tilting my head to the side and shooting him a warning look. It’s like he only just noticed that I’m bigger than him. His brows shoot up in surprise.

“Um. No, it’s fine. Whatever,” he stammers, stepping away and fading into the crowd.

When I turn back to Tatiana, she looks horrified.

“Andrei,” she says tightly. “What are you—um, how long have you—"

“Are you having fun?” I ask, staring down at her. She narrows her eyes.

“Are you going to drag me back to my prison?” she snaps.

“Actually, I’m enjoying the music.”

She scrunches her nose, pulling her mouth tight, trying to decide what game I’m playing.

But then, in a flash, her expression changes. She pushes her chest out and her shoulders back, and a sneaky smile plays over her face.

She steps closer to me, reaching her hand up and placing it on my chest, and starts dancing again. Her body brushes against mine, and my heart races faster.

At first, I’m arguing with myself, telling myself not to touch her, to keep my hands to myself, but with the way she is moving against me, it’s impossible.

I grab her around the waist and spin her so that her back is against my chest. My hand drifts over her ribs, across her stomach, holding her tight as we move together.

She leans her head back, and her hair spills over me.

Lights and smoke fill the air around us.

My entire body is alive with her, the heat, the softness, the slight sheen of sweat glittering over her.

My hand moves up around her throat, and I rest my fingers over her neck as we dance.

Everywhere I touch her, sparks ignite.

She turns to face me again, and those gorgeous blue eyes stare up at me as though she’s the only one in the entire world who has ever really looked at me.

My heart leaps into my throat.

My hand brushes up her spine, my fingers tracing the naked skin of her neck and spreading into her hair.

I shouldn’t do this.

But her lips are full and soft, her mouth slightly open, her eyes glittering.

I lean forward, locking my hand at the back of her head.

With inches between our lips, I pause, telling myself again that I should stop—but it’s too late.

Her hands slip around my waist and close the space between us, and I press my mouth to hers.

It’s like a wildfire igniting inside me.

She presses harder against me as the kiss deepens.

Music vibrates through my body and into hers.

Why isn’t she pushing me away?