Page 39 of Innocently Imprisoned By the Bratva

As soon as the meeting ends, Pippa gathers her things, avoiding looking in my direction. She slinks out.

I think she might be a little annoyed by Natalia. I promise to make it up to her a little later.

An hour later, I walk by her desk with a cup of coffee. “You look like you could use some,” I say, smiling at her.

She doesn’t bother looking up. “Just had some,” she says. To my surprise, she leaves the cup unattended.

I frown and walk away, already late for a meeting.

At the end of the day, I find Pippa just as she’s making her way toward the door, hoping to clear the air between us. "Hey! Wait up."

Pippa hesitates before reluctantly turning to face me, her expression guarded. My heart clenches at the sight of the distance she's trying to put between us.

"Can we talk?" I ask gently, desperate to make things right.

"About what, Lev?" Pippa replies, her voice cold and distant.

“It just seems like you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

“Have I?”

I think back to what happened today and begin to understand that perhaps she was more bothered by Natalia than I thought. I can't blame her for feeling hurt. I need to find a way to make her understand that nothing happened with Boris's old secretary.

"Please, Pippa," I plead, my voice cracking with emotion. "Just give me a chance to explain."

For a moment, Pippa looks like she might relent, but then she shakes her head and walks away, leaving me standing there. I can't let this misunderstanding fester between us, so I stride after her.

"Wait," I call out. She freezes but doesn't turn around, and I can feel the wall she's trying to build between us growing higher. "Can we go for a drive? Please?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady despite the storm of anxiety raging inside me.

There's a pause, and then she sighs, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Fine," she mutters softly. "But don't expect me to talk."

"Fair enough," I agree, simply grateful for the opportunity to make things right.

***

The city lights blur past, painting the car's interior with a kaleidoscope of colors. Pippa stares out the window, her expression guarded and distant. The tension between us is excruciating, and I find myself clenching the steering wheel tighter as we drive.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?" I attempt to break the ice, my voice tense.

"Sure," she replies flatly, not bothering to look my way. Her hands rest in her lap, fingers nervously playing with each other.

"Listen, Pippa," I begin, trying to navigate this delicate conversation. "I really want to make things right between us."

"Is that so?" Her tone is laced with skepticism, but at least it's a response.

"Absolutely. You’ve come to mean a lot to me, and I want to know what’s going on," I say earnestly, hoping she can hear the sincerity in my voice.

"Lev," she sighs, finally turning her face toward mine. "Maybe it's just easier if we're both honest with ourselves. We're free to date other people, right?"

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. The image of Pippa with another man torments me, gnawing at the edges of my self-control. Jealousy flares through my veins, and I can't help but imagine her with someone else—laughing, touching, kissing. I can't let her think that this is what I want.

I pull the car up and take it into an isolated alley, bringing it to a stop.

“What are you doing?” she asks, looking around herself nervously.

I turn to her, and look her straight in the face. "Is that what you really want, Pippa? To date other people?" The question comes out harsher than I intend it to, but the jealousy coursing through me is unrelenting.

"I thought it's what you wanted," she bites back, a hint of anger in her voice.

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