Page 25 of Innocently Imprisoned By the Bratva

"Zolotov," Lev supplies, smirking as if he's aware of the stir he's causing.

"Ah, yes. Thank you, Mr. Zolotov," the professor acknowledges before turning back to the class. "Any thoughts on that idea?"

I raise my hand, eager to engage in this intellectual dance playing out between Lev and me. "While user-generated content is valuable, it's important to maintain control over the narrative. Brands need to ensure that their messaging remains consistent across all platforms."

"Very true, Ms. Anderson," Professor Jenkins agrees. "It's essential to strike a balance between authenticity and consistency."

As the discussion continues, I find myself more and more captivated by Lev's intellect. He counters my points with well-constructed arguments, and I do my best to match his wit. It becomes increasingly difficult to deny the intellectual connection we share. He becomes my sparring partner, and I am having the time of my life with it. At last, he’s a man who can hold his ground against me, who has much more to offer in a conversation than I initially thought he could.

And I must admit, I’m smitten by the revelation because there’s nothing worse than being stuck with a man who can bore you to death.

***

Lev starts accompanying me to my classes most days of the week, and though I try to focus on my studies, I can't help but be distracted by his presence. When he's not participating in the lectures, he spends his time doodling in a notebook or staring out the window, lost in thought.

My eyes are constantly drawn to him, taking in the way his eyes narrow when he's deep in concentration or how his lips curl into a smirk when he catches me looking. I'll quickly avert my gaze, cheeks flushing with embarrassment, but the magnetic pull only intensifies with each stolen glance.

"Focus, Pippa," I chastise myself internally, attempting to concentrate on what’s happening in my class. But even as I do, I know that Lev Zolotov has taken up residence in my thoughts, and it's becoming increasingly harder to evict him.

***

The following Monday, I decide to get a kickstart on studying for a couple of upcoming tests. The library is a sanctuary of silence and solitude, the perfect place to escape Lev's relentless presence and focus on my studies. However, as I hunch over a table laden with textbooks, I quickly realize that my plan has failed. Lev leans against a shelf opposite me, his eyes glinting with mischief as he watches me struggle to concentrate.

"Lev," I hiss through gritted teeth. "Can you please go somewhere else? I really need to study."

"Aw, come on, Pippa," he drawls, smirking at my frustration. "Don't you enjoy my company?"

"Right now? Not particularly."

"Fine," he sighs dramatically, pushing himself away from the shelf with his foot. "I'll leave you alone… but only if you tell me what I can do around here to entertain myself."

“Fine,” I say, shaking my head. “Go find me a copy of Great Expectations for my literature paper. It has to be hardcover.”

“Has to be?” he raises his eyebrow.

“I hate reading paperback fiction. It’s far too common,” I flick my hair back over my shoulder.

“Consider it done, my Queen,” he gives me a dramatic bow. Around us, a few girls begin to giggle. I blush and shoo him away.

No more than five minutes pass before a familiar figure approaches my table. It's Tim, a guy from my marketing class who has never shown any interest in me before. He flashes a charming smile and leans in close, making me uncomfortable.

"Hey, Pippa," he says smoothly. "I was wondering about that guy who’s been following you around.”

“What about him?” I ask with a straight face.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“No,” I say, stone-faced.

“Well, in that case…” His face lights up. “I was thinking we should go out sometime. How about this Friday?"

"Um, thanks for the offer, Tim, but I'm not really interested," I respond, trying to sound polite yet firm.

"Come on, Pippa," he persists, leaning even closer. "Just one date. You never know—we might hit it off."

“I’m just not interested, Tim. So sorry.”

“What? Why?” he asks, looking shocked that I said no. “We don’t have to go out and all if you don’t want to. We can hang out at my place, too.”

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