Page 30 of Innocently Imprisoned By the Bratva

I scowl in return.

Chapter 12 - Pippa

I still can't wrap my head around it: Anoushka, the vivacious woman sitting beside me, is Lev's sister. The car glides smoothly along the city streets, and I can't help but blurt out my thoughts. "I had no idea Lev even had a sister!"

Anoushka lets out a light laugh, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Yes, it seems my dear brother has been keeping secrets. Like you, for example. I must admit, I was surprised when I heard the rumors.”

“Rumors?”

“Why yes. Word spreads fast around our compounds, and some of his kitchen staff told mine that he’s been taken smitten by his captive. Perhaps you don’t know, but he’s made sure everyone knows that you must be catered to with the highest of service.”

“Really?” I ask, amused.

Anoushka nods furiously.

“And,” she changes the gears to the car. “My brothers have been saying he’s been spending less time at work. We realized it’s to spend more time with you! While he’s been trailing you, we’ve been trailing him, and we couldn’t be happier that he’s finally becoming a little more serious about life. Especially a woman.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s that,” I blush, afraid Anoushka might be getting ahead of herself.

“He's always been a bit of a ladies' man, you know. I’m telling you, he’s acting different around you. Earlier, it was always some supermodel or C-list shallow actress every other weekend. He hardly went on a second date with the same person. It was a different girl every night. But now, he hasn’t been on the dating scene since you came into his life, that is."

"Are you serious?" I try to hide my surprise, but the thought of the brooding, intense Lev being a womanizer doesn't quite compute.

"Absolutely," she confirms with a nod. "And yet, here he is, housing you and spending all this time with you. It's like you've got him wrapped around your finger, Pippa."

My cheeks burn at her comment, and I quickly look away from her penetrating gaze. "I don't think that's true," I mumble, though a tiny part of me wonders if she's right.

"Maybe not," Anoushka acquiesces, her sly grin betraying her disbelief. "But it sure looks that way to me."

Before I have a chance to respond, she suddenly changes gears, excitement lighting up her face. "You know what we should do, Pippa? Let's skip the coffee and go shopping! Just us girls."

"Shopping?" I repeat, hesitating. My heart races at the prospect—I'm not exactly a fashionista.

Anoushka sees my reluctance and waves it off. "Oh, come on! It'll be fun! Trust me, I have an eye for these things. And besides, when was the last time you treated yourself?"

Her enthusiasm is contagious, and despite my initial protests, I find myself agreeing to go along with her plan. Besides, it’ll help me bond with her.

"Alright," I finally say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "Let's do it."

***

The moment we step into the high-end boutique, surrounded by Anoushka’s armed guards, Anoushka's enthusiasm is palpable. She immediately starts pulling garments off the racks, assessing each with a critical eye before adding them to an ever-growing pile in my arms. I can't help but feel out of place in this fancy store.

"Try this on!" Anoushka exclaims, holding up a slinky red, full-sleeved dress that looks like it was designed for someone much taller and slimmer than me. "It'll look stunning on you; I just know it."

I raise an eyebrow, unconvinced, but she shoves the dress into my arms before I have a chance to protest. "Anoushka, I don't think—"

"Trust me," she interrupts with a wink. "Now go try these on, and I'll find some more options."

I do as she says. The tight fabric clings to every curve of my body, making me feel exposed. As I step out of the fitting room, Anoushka's eyes light up.

"See? I told you it would look amazing!" she gushes, circling me like an excited puppy. "You just needed a little push outside your comfort zone."

"Really?" I ask skeptically, tugging at the hem of the dress. "I feel… I don't know, like I'm trying too hard."

"Absolutely not," Anoushka insists, her hands on her hips. "You're beautiful, Pippa, and you deserve to wear clothes that make you feel confident and sexy."

Her words catch me by surprise, and I find myself blushing at the sincerity in her voice. As much as I try to dismiss her compliment, a tiny part of me is thrilled at the thought that someone like Anoushka thinks I'm beautiful.

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