Page 7 of Forced Bratva Hostage (Dubrov Bratva #15)

Tatiana spins on her heel and walks out of my home office with way too much confidence in her step.

What the hell just happened? Why isn’t she in her room? How did she get that lock open?

My mind is racing with questions, but more than that, I am filled with intrigue. This girl is nothing like I expected her to be.

I turn to face Madeline, and she looks as surprised as I am.

Madeline stares at me with her brows knitted tightly and a wide, confused smile over her lips.

“Who in the world was that?” she asks.

“A guest,” I answer quickly.

“A guest who called you her husband? ” She tilts her head to the side and throws me a look that says, What bullshit are you up to this time, Andrei?

Maddie and I have been friends since I was a kid.

Our families have known each other for decades, and our fathers worked together, so it was a natural progression for me to hire her when I needed an accountant for my businesses.

Never mind that she’s the best accountant in the city, and I need someone who can manage my books in a very specific way.

Maddie is a beautiful woman, and we are very good friends, but nothing more than that.

I don’t know if I’m not her type, or if she’s not mine, or if it’s just the fact that she has been more of a sister to me than anything else, but there was never a spark between us.

“She didn’t say husband. She must have said something else,” I shrug.

“Mm.” Maddie pulls her mouth tight and shakes her head. “Yes, something else. Sure. What is she doing here?”

“She’s just a guest,” I say again. “One with a bad attitude. She’s getting on my nerves.” I stare at the open door, still confused about how she got the lock open.

“Are you saying that someone is managing to rattle your patience? Now that is unheard of,” Maddie muses.

Huffing in agitation, I gather up the paperwork we were going through and shuffle it into a neat pile. “I didn’t realize how late it was. Sorry for keeping you so long,” I say.

“That’s okay. I never sleep, anyway. But I do still have other stuff to get to tonight, so I’m going to get out of your way. You can e-mail me that list of inquiries and I’ll get the budget together for next month.”

“Thanks, Maddie. I appreciate it.”

After walking her to the door, I wave goodbye and turn back inside, my thoughts on Tatiana.

Should I go and make sure she’s in her bedroom now?

Even though she got out of the room, it’s clear she couldn’t get out of the mansion, so I’m not worried about that—but how am I supposed to handle this situation?

My wristwatch glints as I tilt it towards me.

It's past two. It’s late, and I need sleep.

I’ll deal with Tatiana in the morning.

Walking into my room, I tug my clothes off and toss them over the chair, then climb beneath the covers and snuggle against the softness. I’m not just tired. I’m exhausted. It’s not like everything went according to plan these last few days, but at least it’s coming together now.

Tatiana’s sassy comments drift through my thoughts. I bet she has had a shitty day. Guilt stirs somewhere inside me, and I shove it away. If I start feeling bad about what she’s going through, then everything will come crumbling down.

I don’t have time for guilt, not like that.

But lying there in the dark, staring at the ceiling and the soft patterns made by the moonlight, I can’t help thinking about her.

She is nothing like I expected her to be.

I was prepared to meet a spoiled, weak little brat of a girl. Someone scared and meek, and pampered. One hundred percent, I did not expect her to be able to pick locks or have the confidence to then come and tell me about it.

She spoke to me like she had no fear at all.

But that can’t be true. Behind all of that attitude, there has to be fear. I’ve taken her from her home, everything she knows, and she has no idea what to expect.

I toss in bed, sighing and trying to stop my thoughts from churning. Sleep, dammit, Andrei. Just sleep and forget about the girl.

Maybe I should check in on her, to make sure—to ease my worry.

No.

Leave it alone.

***

It took me forever to fall asleep, but in the morning, when warm rays of sunshine touch my pillow, I wake up refreshed and ready for the day.

At some point last night, between sleep and dreams, I decided how to deal with Tatiana.

I’m going to move her to the room opposite mine. It’s much bigger, it has its own living room along with the ensuite, and she will be more comfortable in here. And I can have better locks put on the doors.

Somehow, having her closer to my room makes me happier, too. Just so that I can keep an eye on her, not for any other reason.

After getting dressed, I head right to her room, before going downstairs for coffee. The door pushes open easily, as it still isn’t locked. I knock lightly on the wood as I push it inward.

“Tatianna, are you awake? I was thinking you could move to—"

Where is she?

The bed is empty. I walk over to it and touch the sheets. They’re cold—but they do smell like her. The entire room smells like her. Intoxicating and taunting.

After checking the bathroom, I confirm she’s definitely not here.

I should have locked the door again and posted a guard right outside it. I’m making life difficult for myself.

Hurrying downstairs, I expect to find her in the living room or the kitchen, but she’s not there, either, and when I ask around, none of the staff have seen her.

What the fuck?

“How could she get past everyone? What the fuck were all of you doing?” I snap at the guards near the back door.

“Sir, we’ve been standing here all night, just as you requested.”

I shake my head and walk away, starting the search through the entire mansion.

Room by room, I hunt for her, getting more agitated as time slips past. How could I be so stupid? She is the key to everything, and without her, I have no plan.

Storming through the kitchen, I shove the door open that leads through the wine cellar to the garage.

I’m panicking. She’s nowhere, and that’s impossible.

In the garage, I find the lights on. All of them.

The door of my Pontiac Firebird is open.

I lean into the car, searching for anything that might tell me what happened.

There are wires hanging out beneath the panels by the pedals on the driver’s side. It’s clear she’s tried to outwire the car, but she hasn’t pulled out the right wires—just the fact that she tried, though, is interesting. And surprising.

What else does this girl have up her sleeve?

I stand up, narrowing my eyes as I search around the rest of the garage. She isn’t hiding anywhere in here, but I find an open window, too tiny for me to fit through—but she’s half my size.

Fuck.

Did she get out of the mansion and into the garden?

The garage door slides open, and I bolt out of it, past the guards patrolling the driveway, around the pool. There is no sign of her.

Thick nausea floods me, getting worse by the second.

I’m jogging, my eyes darting left and right, my breathing heavy.

I run past the washing lines at the back of the house into an area where there are no guards, because there is no exit here.

And that’s when I find her.

At the back of the property is a wall so impossibly high, stone with natural rock features that the rain runs down in winter, it is a death trap for anyone who might consider trying to climb it—

Which is exactly what Tatiana is doing right now.

She’s already a few meters up from the ground, and her legs look shaky. She has no way of knowing that the top of the wall is covered with electric fencing and her climb will be for nothing.

I don’t know a single person on this planet who would have looked at this wall and thought it wasn’t a death trap.

Her determination is astounding.

With amusement, I wonder if she has limits to what she’s willing to do to escape her situation. By the looks of things, she’s even willing to risk her life.

My curiosity grows while my eyes trace over her ass, tight in the jeans she’s wearing. This is a great view of her. Her body flexes as she moves, carefully pushing the toe of her sneaker onto the next rock while she adjusts her grip.

I fold my arms over my chest as I stare up at her, squinting against the sunshine. Watching her take each step, I notice that she’s getting more and more nervous. If she dies, she’s useless to me.

The plan was a bad one, but this girl is so stubborn she’s refusing to let go of it.

I clear my throat, waiting for her to notice I’m watching. But she doesn’t.

“How’s it going?” I ask loudly.