Page 28 of Forced Bratva Wife

“My father.”

“Bingo.” Lev’s dry sarcasm was obvious, and I met his stare again.

I shook my head. “I’m not him. I didn’t do this.”

“Maybe not directly.” Lev’s eyes roamed over me again before returning to my face. “Besides, I’ve learned well enough that nothing in this life comes for free. You didn’t help out of the goodness of your heart. You want out. You’re not getting that.”

With a slight scoff of my own, I glared at him. “Of course, I want out. But I’m not dumb. I know you’re not just going to free me because I helped a guy. Besides, you seem pretty damn cynical for someone who’s currently the head of his own crew of thugs. You’re living on quite the bankroll, aren’t you? Bet you can have whatever you want.”

I didn’t know why I insisted on pushing back so much. I knew it was dangerous and wouldn’t help my case in the slightest. But there was something about the way he challenged my ideas about the world, about how my stomach knotted up with butterflies whenever he was close, that made me want to talk back to him—to push his buttons, press my luck, to see what he’d really do.

I was clearly more of a masochist than I’d ever realized because I was basically signing my own death certificate.

He smirked, his arm going to the bedpost above my head so he could lean against it. “How do you think I got here, sweetheart? I learned damn fast to keep people at arm's length, never trust a word they say. You get burned when you do that, and I don't want to make the same mistakes again."

My heart was trying to beat out of my chest, and I had even less room to think, to breathe, with Lev practically caging me against the post.

“Mistakes?”

He seemed to study me, debating what he wanted to say. But then, a flicker of softness touched his ochre stare.

“Loyalty means a lot in this business. It means a lot to me personally.” When I cocked a brow, he sighed. “Let’s just say that I used to have more family working alongside me, and now I’m intimately familiar with what burying a brother in the dirt is like.”

I gasped quietly, my mouth falling open as I gawked at him. Had he really killed his brother? Or, at the very least, helped to ensure he was dead? Because…because the guy had clearly betrayed him. Holy shit.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Lev could clearly read my reaction. “You wouldn’t have liked him. He was much more fond of kidnapping than I am, and he got himself a shot in the back when he tried to walk out after murdering our mother.”

My stomach seized up as my eyes flared wider.

I didn’t think it could get worse, but obviously, I was very wrong. Lev’s brother had killed his mother? Enjoyed kidnapping? Yeah, he sounded like a real piece of work in the worst possible way. As I digested what Lev had said, I looked up into his eyes. Behind that usual bravado and distance, there was something I could recognize now, something that I’d seen in my own expression—pain.

“I’m sorry. That’s…words can’t describe how terrible that is.”

Without thinking, I reached up, touching his cheek with my hand.

“I can’t understand, but I can empathize. What I’ve learned about my father is something I wish I was still ignorant about.” My voice cracked as the open wound that was my mother’s death ached all the harder. “I guess we’ve both lost the women who raised us.”

“Yeah. I’ll admit you’re handling it pretty well, little one.” He smiled at me, and the honesty behind it floored me.

“Thanks,” I smirked back at him, rolling my eyes ever so slightly. “Life is a piece of shit sometimes, huh? Well…”

Shit, was I really going to say this? But I felt more connected to Lev right now. I understood so much more about him with that reveal, and hell, the truth was I liked him.

I liked how he stood up for me. I liked how he actually seemed to give a damn about what happened to me. Closed off or not, Lev was doing a lot for my safety that he wouldn’t have if he didn’t feel at least a little of the same.

So, fuck it, right?

“You’re not horrible, Lev. You’ve seen it. Lived it. And you survived. I admire that strength of yours.”

My thumb stroked over his cheek, and for a moment, his eyes softened. He let the words in. But then, as soon as it was here, it was gone.

Lev pulled back, tension coiling his body tight, and it was like he’d slammed the door shut between us—decidedly not addressing that comment. “I’m showering.”

He walked to the door, locking it. When he crossed to the closet again, he stripped off his pants, leaving him in his briefs. I couldn’t stop my mouth from falling open again, damn near salivating over the sculpted curves of his muscles.

I could see Lev’s shoulders as he turned and paid more attention this time. His shoulders were broad, sculpted, and decorated with yet more tattoos. This time, it was the words “death is the constant” written in fancy script. They made my chest pinch, but the desperate need to see him so near naked was only increasing.

My body heated, an ache setting up shop between my legs, and before I could think better of it, that hungry part of me demanded I say something.

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