Page 16 of Forced Bratva Hostage (Dubrov Bratva #15)

Steam wisps off the top of my mug. I hold it in both hands, soaking the warmth from the coffee into my body as I sip it slowly.

We have to leave the cabin and go back to the mansion now, but I’m reluctant.

Last night was…

Once we got to the cabin, it became the most magical night I’ve ever experienced.

I don’t want to leave, because leaving means going back to the real world and maybe never getting to feel that way again.

My eyes drift over Andrei’s back. He’s scrounging around looking for more cookies that we can dip into our coffee.

Watching him, my heart is heavy, because I’m not naive. I’m fully aware that last night was just a heated, random thing that happened by accident and doesn’t mean anything.

Yes, it meant something to me.

Stupidly.

Because I’m losing control of my heart.

But it didn’t mean anything to Andrei. He’s a guy, of course, he would jump at the chance to have sex. That’s what guys do.

Holy shit, it was so fucking incredible, though.

I can’t believe it. I never imagined it would be that good.

Every movement, we felt so connected to each other, as though we were thinking the same things.

He took control of me and did things to me that I didn’t even know were possible.

Just thinking about it all makes my legs go weak.

“Yes, I knew there were chocolate ones in here somewhere.” He stands up, triumphantly holding a box of Oreos. “Do you like these?” he asks, smiling at me.

“I do.” Keeping my answers short stops my voice from shaking.

I don’t want to leave here.

I don’t want to go back.

And deep in the pit of my stomach, there is an aching throb of fear. V an tried to kill me. He almost succeeded.

I have no idea why, or if he will try again.

Shaking my head, I push away the nagging thought about Boris. I refuse to believe that my brother had anything to do with it. Andrei clearly thinks otherwise, but he doesn’t know Boris like I do. He’s my family. I’ve never done anything to him to make him angry with me.

It wouldn’t make sense for him to hate me enough to want to hurt me.

“ Hey, are you okay?” Andrei’s words are gentle as he brushes the back of his fingers over my cheek. I force a tight smile onto my face and nod.

“It was just—last night—I don’t—" Sighing in frustration, I stop talking. I don’t know what to say to explain the way I feel.

He pulls me into a hug, and I hold my coffee to the side to stop it from spilling.

“We’ll find out what was going on with Van. And at the mansion, you’ll be safe. We just need to be alert on the way there. I’ve already contacted the security team and told them what happened and to increase efforts around the perimeter. It’s going to be okay, Tia.”

He only started calling me Tia last night.

Before that, it was always my full name.

The smile that touches my lips this time is full and happy. I wish he felt the same way for me that I do about him.

I wish I weren’t just a tool for him.

And I still have no idea what he wants from me, in the end.

Stepping away from him, I push the stupid, immature thoughts from my mind.

It was just sex.

Nothing more than that.

I’ve probably got such intense emotions about it because it was my first time.

Andrei finds me a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt to wear, and we close up the cabin and climb into the car to head back to the mansion.

Every now and then, he glances at me, and once he even brushes his hand over my leg. I can’t figure out what he wants, though, so I stay quiet.

Last night we had a bad experience, and we were both flooded with emotions—what happened between us was like trauma release.

I turn to look at him and study his face while he watches the road, lost in thought. His chiseled features are complemented by the shadow of stubble over his jaw.

He has long, thick lashes that any girl would dream of having. His hair is messy and wild on top of his head.

A smile touches my lips, and I turn my face away from him.

He’s not yours, Tia.

***

At the mansion, Andrei makes sure I’m settled in before telling me he has a lot of work to do, and I can keep myself busy.

“If you need anything, though, just come and find me.”

“Thanks,” I smile, nodding. “I will.”

It’s still pretty early in the morning, and the entire place is busy. The guards are more active, patrolling everything, and Andrei is in a serious mood, obviously focused on his work.

With everyone else busy, I roam around to find something to do.

Upstairs, there is a sunroom, a beautiful space filled with bright green plants and exotic flowers. It’s my favorite room in the house, and I end up in there with a few pencils and charcoal sticks and a drawing paper, all spread out on the table in front of me.

For hours, I’m lost in the drawing, completely relaxed and loving every moment of it.

I’m focused and I practically forget the rest of the world until the sun reaches a point where it’s shining through the window and glaring right into my eyes.

Leaning back, I stretch out and yawn.

What a beautiful day.

It’s so strange how I can do whatever I want here. I can draw, read, swim, roam around, make food—I can be myself without getting the sense that I’m bothering anyone.

It’s something I've never felt at home.

If I went into the kitchen at Boris’s estate to make a coffee, I would tiptoe, moving quietly and shuffling around in secret. I would have to make sure that everything was exactly as I found it in case I got shouted at for not putting it back the right way.

I was never allowed to relax in our sunroom or read in the library; I had to choose a book and go right back to my bedroom.

No one ever wanted to see me. They didn’t want to know I existed. As long as I stayed hidden, things were okay.

There isn’t a single moment where I can remember just being myself. Like this. Right now.

With my art things spread over the whole table, not caring if I’m in anyone’s way—this is new to me.

No one is judging me.

No one is reprimanding me.

Is this what life is supposed to be like?

“Hey, you.”

His voice behind me makes me jump.

I turn in my chair to face him. “Hi,” I smile.

“What did you draw?”

I bite the inside of my cheek and shyly push the portrait towards him. He touches the edge of the paper and turns it so that it’s facing the right way.

“Wow. You’re really good, Tia,” he says, with genuine surprise.

“I used to draw a lot in my room. There wasn’t much else to do.” I shrug. “But drawing here, in the sun room, it’s so much nicer.”

He reaches up and spins his finger through one of my curls. “Are you hungry? I know how you get when you’re hungry.” He chuckles. “We want to avoid that before it happens.”

“Funny,” I sass back at him. “I am a bit hungry, though. I didn’t realize it was so late already.”

“Dinner is almost ready downstairs. If you want to come and eat with me?”

“That would be nice. I’m just going to wash up first. My fingers are covered in pencil shavings and charcoal.” I wiggle my blacked fingers in front of him to show him.

“A true artist,” he smirks. “I’ll be downstairs. I’ll wait for you.”

I scrub my hands until the water runs clean, then run a brush through my hair and touch gloss on my lips.

It’s just dinner at home, but I want him to think I’m pretty. It’s silly, but I can’t help it.

Downstairs, I walk towards the dining room and the delicious smells of roast and vegetables.

My mouth drops open when I walk into the dining room and see the incredible spread of food on the table.

“This is so much food—and so much effort,” I stammer, seeing the leg of lamb, roast potatoes and creamy mushroom sauce. Never mind the other bowls filled with colorful veggies of different flavors.

“I thought it would be fun to have something a little different,” he shrugs. Standing up from where he was sitting, he walks around to the other side of the table and pulls a chair out for me.

My heart flutters as he pushes the chair in behind me, and I get comfortable. “Can I pour for you?” he asks, holding a bottle of red wine.

“Yes, please.”

I’m a princess, and he is my prince. At least I can pretend for a moment.

Andrei sits down again and smiles at me across the table.

His eyes are piercing and bright, so green I am reminded of the tropical leaves in the sunroom upstairs.

“Do you want a bit of everything?” he asks, leaning over and taking my plate.

“Yes, please. It all looks so good. I want to try everything.”

“Who taught you how to draw?” he asks while he slices lamb and puts it on my plate.

“I taught myself. I started by tracing pictures from magazines. Then, after practice, I could eventually just draw the portraits from memory.”

“Your detail with the shading is incredible, though. That’s not a skill everyone is born with. You have a natural talent. Didn’t you ever want to go to art school or study it?”

I laugh loudly. “I wasn’t allowed to go to college,” I shrug, wondering why Boris never let me go. Dad and I used to talk about it when I was little. He wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer, and I wanted to work with animals.

But when I finished high school, Boris told me it wasn’t safe for me to go to college. He said it would be a waste of money.

At the time, I was so upset, but I just took his word for it.

How would it be a waste of money?

His comment doesn’t make sense.

“Would you have studied art if you got the chance to go?” Andrei asks, setting my plate of food in front of me.

“You’ll laugh, but when I was really little, I thought I could go to college and learn how to speak to animals,” I giggle.

He laughs with a loud, rolling, warm laughter that makes my heart somersault.

“Don’t worry. When I was young, I wanted to be a cowboy. I was determined to become a bull rider.” He shakes his head at the memory.

“I think you’d make an excellent cowboy,” I laugh, picturing him in the hat with the boots and the horse. Actually, he’d make a damn sexy cowboy.

My cheeks get warm at the thought and I bite my lip, looking at my food and trying to change the subject.

“This looks amazing,” I mutter, picking up my fork.

“Tomorrow night, I think we should get takeout. I wanted to invite you out to dinner, to my favorite restaurant, but I’m not sure if that’s a good idea after what happened at the club.” He sighs, agitated.

“Takeout sounds great,” I smile.

“I like to get a little bit of everything. So I end up ordering from four or five different places and spreading it all out over the table to enjoy the different flavors.”

“That’s much better than just getting one thing,” I laugh.

I can tell that Andrei is going out of his way to try and take my mind off what happened with Van last night.

He’s putting in effort, with this meal, and talking about having fun tomorrow night by ordering takeout—he’s trying to distract me to make me feel better, and I really appreciate the gesture.

“What’s your favorite restaurant to order from?” he asks.

“Oh.” I blush with embarrassment. “I’ve only ever had takeout once. Boris didn’t like to get it for me, he said it was a waste.”

“Oh,” Andrei says, his mouth pulling tight. “Well, I guess that’s even more reason to try them all.”

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he leans to the side to pull it out, glancing at the screen below the table. His entire face changes, his brows knitting and his jaw clenching.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, worried by his reaction.

“Nothing,” he says, trying to sound casual. But he stands up from the table. “Excuse me for a second. I won’t be long, you can carry on eating.”

I nod, holding my fork, watching him walk out of the dining room.

As soon as he’s out of sight, I stand up and hurry to follow him, peaking around the corner just as he goes into one of the rooms.

I tiptoe to the doorway, and my heart clenches when I hear Boris’s voice.

What is going on?

I can’t make out what he’s saying.

Andrei swears under his breath, and I turn to run back to the dining room.

That was definitely my brother speaking. It must have been a voice message. Beneath the table, my foot is tapping with anxiety while I wait for Andrei to come back.

He walks in with his face turned down. He’s upset.

“Who was it?” I ask, trying to be calm.

“It wasn’t anything important.”

“Yes, it was.” I blurt out, my face going slack with panic. “It was Boris. I heard his voice. Please don’t lie to me.”

I had every intention of playing it cool to try and get the information out of him, but clearly that idea went down the drain.

I press my lips together and wait tensely for him to shout at me for snooping.

He sits down, sighing loudly, and rubs his hands over his face.

“I don’t think you should listen to it,” he says.

“Don’t be ridiculous. If my brother sent a voice message, I should definitely listen to it,” I snap back, my anxiety getting the better of me. Why wouldn’t he want me to hear what Boris has to say?

For a long moment, Andrei is quiet, until he reaches into his pocket and sets his phone on the table.

He navigates to the message and presses play, pushing the phone towards me so that I can hear.

Boris’s voice comes towards me, and my stomach spins nervously.

It’s a contradiction of emotions, to hear him because on one hand, he is my brother, and on the other hand, I have a deep sense of fear towards him.

“Tia, hi. It’s me. I want to let you know that I am determined to work things out with Andrei. You don’t have to worry. I will come to some kind of agreement with him to resolve our issues, and then we can get you back home where you belong. I hope you are well.”

A smile spreads quickly over my face.

“He wants to fix things,” I say happily. “He’s going to work things out with you. That’s amazing.”

My heart is beating happily as warmth spreads through me. My half-brother does care about me. He would never try to resolve past issues if he didn’t. And he wouldn’t bother trying to negotiate with Andrei if he was the one who wanted me dead.

Van was clearly working alone.