Page 22 of Innocently Imprisoned By the Bratva

"I don't want your money," I assert, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Come on, Pippa," he coaxes, holding out several bills. "Take it. Consider it compensation for not making my life more difficult. I’d just prefer it if you didn’t work those jobs, and it’s fair if I compensate you for it."

My fingers tighten into fists at my sides, the anger so strong, that I could punch him. "You know, Lev, most people work hard for their money." I can't help but let the bitterness creep into my voice. "They don't just have it handed to them."

"Is that what you think I do? Just get money handed to me?" He crosses his arms defensively, and despite the anger boiling within me, I notice how the motion makes his biceps flex.

"Isn't it?" I shoot back, refusing to be distracted by his infuriatingly attractive physique. "I don't see you cleaning houses or juggling college classes."

"Listen," he snaps, his stormy grey-blue eyes flashing with irritation. "I'm not trying to take away your precious independence or whatever. I just thought I'd make both our lives easier. It's not like you ever ask for it."

"Maybe because I don't need it!" I practically shout, my face hot with fury. "I've been managing just fine on my own, thank you very much, and I don’t intend to start taking your pitiful handouts.”

"Fine!" Lev throws his hands up in exasperation. "Don't take the money, then. But you are not going back to cleaning other people’s houses!”

"You’re a jerk," I reply icily, my heart pounding in my chest.

"And you’re a stubborn woman," he mutters under his breath, but I catch it all the same.

"Better stubborn than a control freak," I retort, my nostrils flaring as I march toward the door. This conversation is going nowhere, and I refuse to stand here and argue with him any longer. With that, I slam the door behind me, leaving him standing in the hallway—no doubt fuming with frustration. But I don't care. I refuse to let anyone, especially Lev Zolotov, dictate the terms of my life.

Chapter 9 - Lev

I pace back and forth in my room like a caged bear, unable to escape the thoughts that consume me. Pippa's words ring in my ears, her accusations of entitlement stinging more than I'd ever admit. I clench my fists and fight the urge to punch the wall.

"Damn it," I mutter under my breath, feeling an unfamiliar sense of vulnerability. My usual reckless behavior wars with this newfound desire to prove Pippa wrong. I find the whole situation unfair, given how she knows nothing about me. At the same time, it confuses me to feel this angry over her words, when her opinion shouldn’t matter so much. She’s my captor, so why am I walking around, beating myself up over some words which probably meant nothing?

"Could it be that she’s right?" I ask myself, stopping in my tracks. I’ve seen how self-made she is, without even a grain of the support I’ve been given my whole life. Is that why to be called entitled by someone so self-sufficient hits harder than it should? "Am I really just another entitled bastard who thinks the world owes him something?" A bitter laugh escapes my lips, the sound mocking and hollow. It's not a question I ever expected to ask myself, let alone all because of a woman.

But maybe she is right. Memories rush back of my brothers picking up the pieces from the chaos I’ve caused. I think back to the time when I was in Russia as a child and stole the neighbor’s dog because I wanted a pet. My brothers bought me my own dog, returned the one I stole, and had to compensate the owner for the distress I caused him. I think back to a few years earlier, when I got into trouble with the mafia in New York, undercutting them in the gambling world on their terrain, ignoring the agreements my brothers had made between the Bratva and the mafia. In their quest to buy me forgiveness, Boris had to pay out over ten million to the mafia.

They never said a word to me. I groan and place my head in my hands. Time and time again, I’ve fucked up, and Boris and Damien have paid the price.

I take a deep breath, reeling from the weight of my own mistakes. Pippa's words echo in my mind, a constant reminder of my shortcomings. With a heavy heart, I make a decision. I can't change the past, but I can try to be better. For my family. For myself.

Instead of trying to change her to be a little more like me, perhaps I need to change and see things from her perspective and imbibe a little more of her. There’s no doubt that by this point, I admire her. Is it so wrong to want to take a page or two out of the habits of a person I respect?

After I reflect, I realize she might be right in her anger. Knowing who she is, how she thinks, it is honorable that her pride won’t allow her to take money she hasn’t earned.

Maybe I need to make some amends. To show myself I can change, more than anything else.

I take a deep breath and step out of my room. The hallway suddenly feels too long and narrow, like the walls are closing in as I approach Pippa's door. My heart hammers in my chest, each heavy beat reminding me that this is uncharted territory.

I’ve never tried to make amends before.

"Get it together, Lev," I mutter to myself, trying to quell the nervous energy coursing through my veins. Clenching my fists by my sides, I stand in front of her door, hesitating for just a moment before raising my hand and knocking.

"Who is it?" Pippa's voice comes from behind the door, guarded but curious.

"It's me, Lev," I reply, struggling to keep the tremor out of my voice. "Can we talk?"

There's a pause, followed by the sound of shuffling within the room. The door cracks open, revealing Pippa's wary eyes peeking out at me. She studies me for a moment, clearly debating whether or not to let me in. Finally, she sighs and opens the door wider, stepping aside to allow me entry.

"Alright," she concedes, crossing her arms over her chest as she looks me up and down. "What do you want?"

"Look, I… I wanted to apologize," I begin, forcing the words out even though they feel foreign on my tongue. "For interfering in your financial matters. It was wrong of me, and I'm sorry."

Pippa raises an eyebrow in surprise, clearly not expecting the apology. Her skepticism is palpable, but there's also a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes as she regards me warily.

---