Page 36 of Hunt Me (Dmitriyev Bratva #1)

Without saying another word, he nodded behind me.

I looked over my shoulder to see a door.

There was nothing I could do but obey him.

I hated the word and the thought. I wasn’t that kind of woman, which was why he wanted to break me.

I’d heard the conviction in his voice, even thought he’d had a lilt while explaining exactly what he wanted to do.

My legs were shaking, but I did what I could to keep from allowing him to see how nervous I was around him. Once inside his home, I was surprised how modern and beautiful the kitchen was. He instantly flicked on a light, tossing my duffle to the floor.

He moved around me, heading toward a cabinet. It was late, although time had no relevance in his world. My mundane life as I’d known it seemed far removed from everything around me.

“What do you drink, Bristol?”

“I’m not thirsty.” When he stopped moving altogether, I rubbed my arms. “Whatever you’re having. I’m not picky.”

His laugh was slight. “You should always ask for what you want, Bristol.”

“Fine. Then whiskey. I’ll take a weapon and a car at the same time.”

“Ah, a woman of discerning tastes.”

“No, just a woman who needs liquid courage.”

“Courage you have. Unfortunately, a weapon is out of the question,” he continued.

“You forget I’m a trained kickboxer.”

“You’re right. Thank you for reminding me.” His chuckle was even darker than before. He was thoroughly enjoying my discomfort.

He took his time pouring two glasses, foregoing ice. As he turned, he studied me as intently as any other time. “Come with me. We’re going to talk. There’s no need for you to be concerned about what you will tell me.”

The man was so sure of himself, as if I’d simply fall into line like I was certain everyone else around him did. He nodded toward a doorway, waiting until I headed toward it to move himself.

Without wearing any panties, I felt so entirely exposed and the scent of him lingered on every surface of my skin. What drove me crazy was the scent of his aftershave. It was woodsy and dark, forbidden with exotic spices and touched with citrus like a sweet kiss of spring.

There was no getting away from him. Lights came on as soon as we moved from one room to another. At least I was able to have a better understanding of the prison he was about to lock me in.

His house was magnificent, so beautifully decorated that I was in awe. Everything had a place, completely organized. His tastes were exquisite. I don’t know what I’d expected, but this wasn’t it.

He finally led me to a beautiful and cozier room with a fireplace. There were bookshelves on two sides, full of books and art. As soon as I walked inside, I had to take a moment to admire his collection.

His presence was as electric as before, the heat of his massive body keeping me on edge.

“You seem surprised,” he stated in his deep baritone.

“I guess I am. I didn’t think you had time to read.”

Reaching around my waist, he waited until I accepted one of the thick tumblers. When I did, our fingers touched. I sensed I’d shuddered visibly. He lowered his head until his hot breath cascaded across the back of my neck. “Reading is essential when learning to run an empire.”

He moved around me, heading to one of the bookshelves, pulling a book from the shelf.

“My father was an avid reader, which surprised not only his enemies, but his allies as well. He taught his children the importance of education, enlightenment that couldn’t be bought and sold.

The greatest leaders in the world were highly intelligent and continued their education. ”

“Is that what you’re trying to be, a great leader?”

The way he fingered the leather-bound edition was with reverence. “As least as good as I can be.”

“Which is why you graduated from Harvard, excelling in academics.”

His eyes twinkled as he lifted his head. “I’m curious how much you learned about me and my family.”

“Not nearly enough to understand your intentions.”

“With you or with business?”

“Everything.” I took a sip of my drink mostly to calm my nerves. Just being around him was otherworldly.

“With you my intentions are simple. I will gain the truth and try and shield you from whatever war could occur due to Sergio’s murder.”

“War. You make it sound like your business is nothing but a battle zone.”

He studied me, his brow furrowing. “There isn’t a successful business of any type in the world who doesn’t feel like the playing field is often a battleground, Bristol.”

“That’s not what we’re talking about. You intend on exacting your own form of revenge.”

His expression shifted to one of amusement. “Isn’t that what every attorney does when arguing a case?”

“We work within the law. If any of the stories I’ve heard about your family are the truth, you believe you’re above the law and create your own rules suiting your purposes.”

“Who doesn’t believe in the law of the greater good? You said so yourself. You abide by right versus wrong. So do my family and millions of others. With every misdeed there are consequences that must be paid.”

I shook my head. “Agreed to a point. However, there’s a major difference between those who pledge to honor the letter of the law already in effect and those who create their own rules on a whim.”

“You have me curious.”

“You act without positive proof. You act based on anger, not on evidence.” I walked closer, daring to be bold enough to take the book from his hand. “ To Kill a Mockingbird .”

“You seem surprised again.”

“I am. Why select this book?”

As he’d done before, he crowded my space. “Because the brilliantly written story is about the roots and consequences of racism and prejudice and how good and evil can coexist in a community.”

“Good versus evil, a cornerstone of my beliefs.”

“Right versus wrong.” He smirked as if testing me.

I had to think about why he seemed fascinated by this story in particular. “Your family was persecuted when they came to America. They were treated as outsiders.”

“Very good. Yes, they were. They came here seeking to remove themselves from the Bratva and the heinous crimes. They’d believed they could lose their heritage and start over.

But that wasn’t allowed. They were treated not only as outsiders, but as evil personified because of their thick accents alone.

I was just a boy, but I was bullied, beaten by kids whose parents looked the other way.

Teachers looked the other way. We had to prove ourselves, but even after doing so, they were still mistreated, lied to.

And betrayed. They returned to their own ways. ”

“Through violence and bloodshed?”

He cupped my face, peering down at me with even more extreme emotion than I’d seen before. “Maybe initially, Bristol. There’s no reason for me to lie to you. That’s what my father and uncle knew by birthright; using force to get what they wanted. And after a time, the bullying stopped.”

“By force.”

Every laugh, every sound he made held some bitterness.

“Yes, by force, but that’s not where my family is at today.

At least for the most part. Both men sacrificed to make better lives for their wives and children, believing in the American dream.

That didn’t change when they developed the Bratva in Las Vegas.

They worked hard and after a few years were able to capitalize on their efforts.

You might not believe me, but in building an empire, they worked tirelessly while living in squalor just to put food on the table. ”

“The American dream.”

Another bitter laugh. “Yes, it took time, but we built something we are proud of. I refuse to allow anyone to take that away.”

“Sergio was more than an employee or even just a friend. Wasn’t he?”

As he brushed his thumb across my bottom lip, pulling it open slightly, he took a deep breath.

“During the years I was bullied, my father was too busy to pay attention. He was never home and when he was, he wasn’t capable of being supportive.

I was an angry kid, incapable of controlling my rage.

And my fear. Sergio became another father, a man who truly taught me about right versus wrong and that being Bratva was about more than the violence and bloodshed you mentioned, but also about loyalty and respect to both old and new ways.

Plus, he also taught me that intelligence was often the best weapon to be used.

Along with my father’s love of reading, I discovered a new world, gleaning everything I could about dozens of subjects from books and encyclopedias back in the day when they were still around. ”

He laughed from his memory.

But I sensed his extreme sadness. Suddenly, a rush of emotions tore through me.

“Sergio sounds very wise.”

“Yes, and I take his death personally.” He took the book from my hand, sliding it back onto the bookshelf. “Which is why you should be able to understand my frustration with you for not providing me with the truth.”

“Being in this position isn’t something I asked for or wanted. No one in their right mind would.”

“Touché.”

The sudden tension between us was fraught with questions, yet I had no idea what to say to the man.

“There are other aspects of importance with To Kill a Mockingbird including courage and compassion. Without both within our society, people cannot thrive. That’s why I believe in the law. The framework allows all of us to explore the opportunities that we justly deserve.”

“Very wise for someone so young. Also, very na?ve. Unfortunately, evil often undermines acts of goodness, making futile the very compassion you mention.”

“How very sad it must be to be so jaded. What about joy? What about love? Don’t they counteract the evil in your world?”

He pointed to a chair, silently directing me to sit. I didn’t argue, taking a seat while he moved to the couch. “In my world, love can be used as a weapon. Many a woman has professed her love only to be found with a knife behind her back.”