Page 2 of Innocently Imprisoned By the Bratva

With purposeful, determined strides, I close the distance between us. Her eyes widen as I reach out, gripping her arm firmly but not aggressively, careful not to leave any marks. "Come with me," I command, pulling her toward the door.

"Wait… what? Let go of me!" she cries, trying to yank her arm free from my grasp. But I only tighten my grip, unwilling to let her escape.

“Lev, wait,” Lenny yells from behind. “You’ve got this all wrong.”

"Sorry, Sweetheart, but I wouldn’t do that if I were you," I reply, smirking at her futile attempts to resist. "Your father crossed the wrong people, and now you're going to pay the price."

"Are you insane?" she snaps, her fear momentarily forgotten as anger flares in her eyes. I have to admit, it's an attractive look on her. But I don't have time for games or banter—there's too much at stake.

"Maybe," I concede, dragging her out of the doorway and into the driveway. "But you should really take that up with your dear old dad. He's the one who brought this on you."

"Lev, please!" Lenny's voice calls out from behind me, desperation lacing his tone. "She has nothing to do with this!"

The girl, Lilah, tugs against my grip, her voice meek. "Let go of me, please!"

The fear in her eyes is palpable, like the first crack of thunder in an impending storm. She tries to break free, attempting to kick me in the shin.

"Get your hands off me!" she tries again, her free hand clawing at mine.

Her resistance is futile but admirable. Her attempts to break free only fuel my determination. With a swift motion, I lift her off her feet and hoist her over my shoulder, carrying her toward my car like a sack of potatoes.

"Put me down! You’ll drop me!" she shrieks, pounding on my back. I’ll drop her? I’m kidnapping her here, and that’s what she’s afraid of? I shake my head, honestly amused.

“I’m stronger than you think,” I tell her, trying to hold back my laughter. She says nothing, but stops struggling. Is she honestly afraid I’d drop her? Jesus.

“Look, just let me go and I can explain everything,” she tries bartering with me.

“This isn’t a negotiation,” I make it clear. My focus remains on the end goal—getting our money back and teaching Lenny a lesson he'll never forget.

“If you don’t put me down right now, I’ll call the cops,” she gives me an empty threat. But, I hear the quiver in her voice. She knows she has no way to do that, considering she’s hauled over my shoulder, with no phone in sight.

"Keep this up, and I might just add interest to your father's debt," I warn, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “Got any siblings I don’t know about?”

I can't help but feel a thrill of satisfaction as she momentarily pauses her protests, perhaps realizing the futility of her situation.

Chapter 2 - Pippa

I walk as briskly as I can toward Mr. Ramsey's home, the autumn leaves crunching beneath my feet as I mentally calculate how many more hours I need to work this month just to cover my rent. The number is daunting, especially given how much classwork I have going on, but I refuse to let it break me down. Financial struggles are nothing new to me.

As a college student and academic scholar, I've managed to maintain an impressive GPA while working multiple part-time jobs to support myself. I’m no trust fund baby, nor do I have any family waiting around to help me, but that only strengthens my resolve to succeed on my own terms. I’m someone who has always made my own way in this world, and I will continue to do so.

"Thirty more hours in the next seven days," I mutter to myself, feeling exhausted at the thought. It may be a lot, but if there's one thing I've learned in my time at college, it's that hard work pays off.

I arrive at Mr. Ramsey's home, the large front door looming before me, a testament to his wealth and status. I've cleaned countless houses like this one, each with its own quirks and eccentricities. But in the end, they all follow the same script: sweep away the dust, scrub out the stains, and make it all gleam like new again.

The owners don’t want to be bothered with their own mess.

"Here we go," I sigh, fishing the spare key out of my bag. As usual, I expect Mr. Ramsey won’t be home today. But he always pays me on time and is generous with tips. So, I choose not to cut corners.

I unlock the door and step into the cool, dimly-lit foyer. My agenda for the day kicks in as I mentally map out my cleaning route for the day.

I shrug off my coat, hang it on the rack near the door, and get down to business.

As I walk down the hallway to get to the supply closet at the end of it, I stop when I notice movement from the corner of my eye. There, standing at the doorway to the living room, is a tall, lanky, and not to mention extremely handsome stranger.

Should I be worried that there’s a stranger in Mr. Ramsey’s room? He looks right at me, and smiles. I blush, looking away, suddenly feeling shy from the attention. He stands there with such confidence, unafraid. Perhaps he’s a friend or houseguest Mr. Ramsey forgot to mention. Suddenly, I feel like I’m the one who doesn’t belong here, disturbing his peace. Maybe I should ask to come back and clean another time.

Before I can look back up and apologize for the intrusion, I see him rush toward me and feel a strong arm wrap around my arm and he commands me to come with him.

---