Page 10 of Prince of Control (Bratva Heirs #1)

Chapter Five

Lara

Starting classes at a school I didn’t know I’d be attending a week ago is an out-of-body experience. I don’t have the energy to return Brash’s texts or calls.

He no longer matters. He’s not part of this life.

Benjamin–or Baron, as others call him–asked me questions about myself over breakfast. He wanted to know what made me want to study modern languages. How many languages I speak. What I hope to do as a career.

I found him easy enough to talk to. As easy as it was to ride behind him on the back of a motorcycle hanging onto his rock-hard abs. He’s appealing–there’s no denying it.

But I’m not falling for any of it. I’m some pawn in a game they’re playing, and I don’t have a choice. I won’t forgive him for that, no matter how charming he might be.

I go through the day, just focusing on finding my way around and getting oriented.

I don’t have any headspace to think about Benjamin–or “Baron,” as the girl at the cafe called him–and his declaration that I’m his. Like a piece of property.

There’s a sliver of me that also loves the way he takes care of me, but I want to stomp that piece of my heart into the sidewalk and grind it under the heel of my boot. I can’t let myself be attracted to him. I can’t allow myself to be seduced by his courtesy.

Although I may be feeling as possessive about him as he is about me because when the girl at the cafe blushed and spoke his name for one brief moment, I thought he’d slept with her, and I wanted to scratch his eyes out.

Is he a player? And what is this party everyone’s talking about? What is the dungeon? I meant to ask him about it at breakfast but forgot.

I exit my class and round the bend only to have a short, round young man barrel into me and drop his books.

“ Blyad’ .” He looks up from under a mop of unkempt hair. Then says in accented English, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” I reassure him in Russian, stooping to help him pick up his books and the papers that went flying everywhere.

His face lights up. “You’re Russian?”

I hand him the papers I collected. “ Da. YA iz Moskvy. ”

“I’m Denis,” he says as we both stand. He shifts his mess of books and papers to one arm and extends a hand.

I clasp his hand. “Lara. Nice to meet you.”

“I just started here. It’s a relief to know I’m not the only Russian on campus.”

“You’re not. I just started here too, actually.” I draw in a long breath and sigh it out.

It’s been a day. Considering how early I woke up, I’m ready for it to be over. Too bad I still have a marriage ceremony to get through.

“Actually, there are a bunch of Russian-Americans as well,” I tell him, thinking of the occupants of Baranov House.

“Not the same.” He dismisses them with a wave. “I guess I’m homesick.” His apologetic smile is lopsided.

My stomach twists. “So am I.”

“I don’t mean to be too forward, but I would love to get a drink or coffee with you.” He sends me a hopeful puppy look. “–just as friends,” he adds quickly. “I know you're out of my league.”

Aw, the guy is a dork but totally likeable. I hesitate. What’s the harm? Denis is homesick and needs someone he can talk to. I suspect Baron won’t like it. But that’s his problem, isn’t it?

“Sure,” I say. “Let’s do it.”

“Tonight? At Whisper’s End?” He names a corner street bar I saw near the bakery this morning.

“Not tonight. How about tomorrow?” I suggest.

He beams at me. “Tomorrow it is. Five o’clock?”

“Sure. See you there.”

I round the corner only to find Leo with his back propped against the wall. He’s looking at his phone, but a chill washes over me. He must’ve been standing there listening the whole time.

He sends me a white-toothed smile. “ Privet , Lara.”

I stare back at him. I can’t think of anything to say because my mind is churning over the fact that I’m being spied upon.

“How’s your first day? Need help finding anything?”

“ Nyet ,” I snap and toss my head, walking as quickly away as I can without running.

My eyes burn as I push open the door and stumble outside, dying to be free. Not of the building but of my life.

Of this crazy situation.

Of Benjamin Baranov and whatever his sinister plans are for me.