Page 44 of Innocent Prey of the Bratva

I wait in the main hall, pacing in slow strides near the front windows. I don’t want to admit how long it’s been since I looked forward to something so simple.

She’s been quiet since dinner. Distant. Like she’s been trying to rebuild her walls after letting them slip. And who could blame her? She told me something so private, and I walked away and left her hanging.

But now she’s coming with me. And fuck—I’m glad.

I think about what she said. “I’m a virgin.” That one sentence has haunted me since it left her lips. It should have been a warning, a line drawn in blood.

Stay away, Kaz.

But I don’t want to. More than ever—I want her.

Not just her body. I want the fire behind her eyes, the way her voice shakes but never breaks, the quiet resistance of someone still trying to hold on to who they are.

When she finally walks down the grand staircase, I swear the air leaves my lungs.

She’s wearing a soft lavender dress that drapes around her frame like it was stitched for her skin. Her hair is loose, still damp at the ends, and she walks slowly, like she’s not sure how to move around me.

“You’re beautiful,” I say before I can stop myself.

She freezes halfway down the stairs, then blushes. Actually blushes.

A soft pink crawls across her cheeks, and she looks away like the compliment is heavier than it should be. “Thank you.”

I walk to the front doors and open one for her. “Shall we?”

She walks past me, and for a second, the scent of her shampoo hits me, and my knees almost buckle.

We get into the back seat of the car—her on one side, me on the other. Maxim’s driving, as always. I glance at Violet as the gates slide open and we pull into the world beyond.

She presses her face lightly to the glass, eyes wide. Curious.

And just like that, I know. This day is going to ruin me.

As the car glides through the streets, I can’t take my eyes off her.

Violet hasn’t stopped looking out the window since we left. Her fingers are pressed lightly to the glass, her eyes flicking from one passing building to the next like she’s drinking itall in. It’s barely noon, and the city is golden—bustling, alive, stretching for miles. It looks nothing like the cold, polished walls of my estate.

“I wanted to tell you something,” I say, voice low. “It wasn’t just about showing you the city.”

She turns slightly, one brow raised, cautious.

“I think someone’s after you.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m not stupid, Kaz.”

“Listen….” I almost hold her hand. “Whatever’s going on, someone either wants to use you against me—or they think you’re a threat. And until I figure out who it is…I’m trying to keep you alive.”

She doesn’t say anything to that, but her shoulders drop slightly.

And maybe it’s just my own delusion, but I think a part of her believes me, too.

She leans her cheek against the window, a small crease between her brows like she’s trying not to show how scared she still is. I study her quietly—how delicate her features are, how her eyes linger too long on the children crossing a busy market street, how she inhales softly at the sight of a street vendor’s display of roses.

God, she doesn’t belong in my world.

But I want her here anyway.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks suddenly, her eyes snapping to mine.