Page 5 of Innocently Imprisoned By the Bratva

Lilah frowns and looks away. She’s intriguing. She juts out her lower lip, trying to keep a face that says she’s not afraid when every fiber of her trembling body being says otherwise. “I know you’re from the Bratva, and that’s enough for me to make a conclusion on what kind of a man you are.”

“Have you ever read a book, Lilah?” I ask.

“What?” she sputters, looking confused.

It takes everything in me to not laugh. I keep a straight face and tell her it’s best not to judge a book by the cover.

"It’s not just the cover,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “You kidnapped me, threatened me with guns. After all this, what am I to feel but threatened? Is it wrong of me to assume the worst?” her voice cracks, and tears spring to her eyes, which she quickly wipes away on the sleeve of her arm, clearly not wanting me to see her vulnerability.

A quiet silence falls over the room as she turns her back to me, and stares out of the window. I see her back rise and fall, like she’s crying quiet tears. For some reason, it annoys me. She isn’t in any actual danger here, for the love of God.

“Look,” I say, circling back to the topic at hand. “When someone messes with the Zolotovs, they pay the price. That’s about it. It’s nothing personal, love.”

“Perhaps,” she says at last, after a few moments of silence and then turns around to face me. Her eyes are red, wounded. “But no one’s going to be paying a price here because—news flash—Lenny Ramsey isn’t my father.”

“Afraid, are you? Enough to try to hide who you are?” I snarl back, enraged that she’s still set on playing games.

“Of course, I’m afraid,” she cries out, desperately. “But also just as honest. Please,” she rushes forward, her arms outstretched in a plea. “You have to believe me!”

"I have to believe nothing you say," I narrow my eyes.

“Then all of this would be for nothing,” she shakes her head. “Lenny isn’t going to come for me, because I’m not his daughter. What… what will you do with me, then?” her eyes widen in fear.

“Oh. I don’t know,” I shrug, thinking that two can play this game. “Kill you, maybe?”

She startles, almost jumping off the ground and backs away from me in rushed movements. It takes everything in me to hold back the chuckle threatening to spill out. Does she truly believe I’d kill her? I’m just having some fun, playing games, that’s all. It’s not like she’s doing anything different, by pretending to gaslight me into thinking she’s not who she is.

“Come on now,” I say, at last, needing her to look less afraid. “If you comply, it’ll just be easier for you.”

“Comply?” she suddenly looks up, that same rare fleeting flash of anger in her eyes. “Fine. You want me to lie? I’ll lie. I’m Lilah. Keep me here for however long you want, but eventually, you’d realize what a futile mission this has been.”

I stare at her, noticing the fire blazing in her chocolate-brown eyes. I can tell she's battling with fear, annoyance, and anger, yet determination seems to be winning as she lifts her chin defiantly. It's an interesting sight, one that piques my curiosity. I never thought the meek doe would have a fight in her, but I’m beginning to realize when she believes something is wrong, she’d fight it. No matter what, no matter whom against.

"Listen," she says, her voice now a defeated whisper. "I don’t know how many times I’ve got to tell you this. You've got this all wrong. I'm not who you think I am."

"Sure, and I'm not the guy holding you hostage," I retort, crossing my arms and staring down at her.

"Lev, seriously," she pleads, desperation creeping into her tone. "I'm not lying.”

“Nice try, Lilah,” I say dismissively, rolling my eyes. “But I know a liar when I see one, and right now, I see one standing in front of me.”

“I get it,” she says, stepping closer to me, her frustration evident in every word. “Your family was betrayed by Lilah’s father, and you want revenge. But I didn’t do anything to deserve this. I’m just a college student trying to make ends meet. I clean Mr. Ramsey’s home, that’s all.”

I scoff, shaking my head. “Do you really expect me to believe that? You? A cleaner?”

Her father’s obviously trained her well to ensure her identity remains a secret, should such a situation ever arise. Clearly, she’s a good student.

"Believe whatever you want," she snaps, glaring at me, her patience wearing thin. "But when you find out you're wrong, don't come crawling back to me for forgiveness. Just FYI," she bellows at me. “My name is Pippa Anderson!”

She’s now furious. I swear, her emotions? They’re a rollercoaster. In one conversation, she’s gone from terrified, to judgmental, to protective, to furious. One thing’s for certain. She’s going to keep me on my toes. Usually, I’d be bored by now, but she keeps me reeled in, interested to see how long she can play this game of false identity.

"Trust me, Sweetheart," I say, smirking at her feisty attitude. "I might come crawling for many things, but forgiveness won’t be one of them."

She takes a deep breath, visibly trying to calm herself down. "If you won't believe me, at least let me prove it to you."

"Prove it?" I raise an eyebrow, intrigued by her proposal.

"Give me a phone," she demands, extending her hand. "I'll show you texts, pictures, anything you need to see that I'm not Lenny's daughter."

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