Page 10 of The Bratva's Hostage

He chuckled, seeming genuinely amused. I frowned. I hated him. I hated him with every bit of life within me. He could see the hatred in my eyes, and it amused him even further. I wanted to stab him.

Maksim came closer. He was neither cautious nor hesitant. Here was a man who was constantly in control. Someone so used to power, that it had become an extension of who he was. He was so convinced that I couldn’t hurt him, and I was inclined to believe it.

He stopped only a few inches from me and crouched down. His face hovered in front of mine and my breath caught. A scent of musk mixed with raw masculinity filled our space sending a fog to my brain cells. He was oddly attractive, in a roguish way. His tousled hair, his two-day stubble, and his dangerous emerald gaze… I couldn’t deny that he was very alluring.

I froze as he focused his eyes on mine. He was intimidating, like a violent storm. I resisted the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. I felt exposed and all I wanted to do was run and hide.

I fought hard to hold his gaze, but I couldn’t. Eventually, I wilted and looked away, fixing my eyes on the shadows in the corner of the room. Anything, anything was better than those cold, deep eyes that threatened to reach into my soul and rip it to shreds.

He lifted my chin and turned my face to his. I felt a spark blossom from the touch, and heat spread rapidly through my body, starting from where Maksim’s strong and callused fingers touched my skin.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch me.” I snarled through gritted teeth.

“Are you afraid you’ll like it too much?” He said with sarcasm in his voice.

He pulled my chin closer, despite my protest. My heart hammered loudly in my chest, and I huffed, struggling for breath. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t fight. I wanted to see where this went. I felt a desperation so alien; that it shattered every inhibition I had for what I assumed was to come next.

Then he let my chin go and got up. I didn’t know when I’d closed my eyes, but I opened them to see a satisfied look on his face. Dammit. He’d played me like a fiddle, and I’d obliged him.

I put the pieces of my mind together, arranging my thoughts as I breathed freely once more. “I know about your men,” I said in a flat tone. “I’m guessing that’s why I’m here. I don’t think you plan to kill me. I’m just a bargaining chip to ensure the safe release of your men. Am I right?”

Maksim watched me silently, tapping his hand lightly against his side. He had a faraway look, and the silence grew thick around us. “That was our original plan,” he said finally.

He glanced at me, and I could see hesitation. I felt a slight chill in my arms. “What else?”

“Well, let’s just say this plan has been on hold since the news about Don Armando broke. He is the only one who has the power to secure the release of my men.”

I stopped listening, shifting against the restraints that now bit into my flesh. “What do you mean, ‘news about’ my father? What news?” I was shaking visibly, but I didn’t care. From the set of his shoulders and the grim look on his face, I was certain something had happened.

“Your father had a stroke,” he said without pity. “He was rushed straight to the ICU. It’s been several hours without a word.”

I sank into the chair, a deep exhaustion that was far from physical coming over me. At that moment, I felt the threads of my world start to unravel before my eyes.

Chapter 5 - Maksim

A cloud of thick tobacco smoke hovered lazily over my head. I pulled deep from the cigar and puffed slowly, adding another stream of white smoke to the small cloud that had formed.

There was a loud smash as the cue ball smashed into one of the striped balls on the pool table, sending it into one of the pockets. My younger brother Nikolai was playing pool with Fyodor. Although it was more accurate to say that he was bullying my second-in-command.

Nikolai grinned and Fyodor cursed under his breath. “Good shot, you lucky bastard,” Fyodor acknowledged Nikolai, with salty expressions.

Nikolai shrugged. He leaned forward and aimed again. “You call it luck…” he struck the ball with the cue again and another striped ball rolled into another pocket. “…But I call it skill, Fyodor. A distinction without much of a difference, I’m afraid, but still one regardless.”

I watched the exchange, mildly amused. I had learned a long time ago not to bother shooting pool with Nikolai anymore. He had enough lip for a thousand men, and he was considerably skilled… a lesson poor Fyodor was insistent not to learn.

“Look, it’s quite simple,” Nikolai said cheerfully, pushing his fine, dark hair from his face. “You insist on losing all your money to me. I insist on taking as much of it as my pockets can hold.”

“Play already!” Fyodor snapped. “Bozhe moy [my God], you talk more than a child who has just learned to speak for the first time! It drives me crazy.”

Nikolai winked at the frustrated Fyodor and pointed at a pocket with the cue stick. Wearing the smuggest look, I’d ever seen, Nikolai shot the black ball into the right pocket, with entirely more pomp than was necessary for a straightforward shot.

Nikolai rapped his knuckle on the table and with a mocking smile, said, “You lost again, Fyodor. Pay up. Do I rack the balls again, hmm? Maybe this time you could win. Then again, with your luck, I wouldn’t bet on it if I were you.”

Fyodor watched the ball drop with a hateful expression, his knuckles white from how tightly he held onto his cue stick. At that moment, I was sure that he considered putting a bullet between his friend’s eyes.

“Come on, Fyodor,” I said lightly. “You really shouldn't let Nikolai get under your skin like this.” I glared at Nikolai. “And you. Cut that out, Vy ponimayete? [Do you understand?] Besides, we have other more important things to discuss. Urgent and sensitive matters.” I puffed out another cloud of smoke and watched both men.

Fyodor grunted and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a wad of hundred-dollar bills and tossed the cash towards Nikolai. “Khuy tebe [fuck you], Nikolai. Go fuck yourself. One of these days, your luck will turn, and I will be ready to collect.”

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