Page 6 of Innocently Imprisoned By the Bratva

"Nice try, but I'm not giving you a phone," I say firmly. "I'm not taking any chances of you contacting anyone."

"Then what do you want from me?" she asks, exasperated. "How can I prove it to you?"

"Aw shucks, Darling. What made you think I was a judge or jury? You got nothing to prove to me here.”

I watch as she takes a deep breath, preparing to share more about herself in an attempt to prove her innocence. But it’ll be futile. I know how this works. She’s obviously going to lie. Her father taught her to.

“I’m an innocent bystander,” she whispers, almost to herself, looking out at the barred window.

"An innocent bystander who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time," I speak loudly so she gets the message and drops the act. “Convenient, isn’t it?”

"Or a coincidence!" she exclaims, her hands gesturing wildly. "Please, why can’t you deal with him directly instead of involving innocents in your mess?"

"Because, Sweetheart," I reply, "Lenny has a way of slipping through my fingers. And until I get what's rightfully mine, you're not going anywhere."

A soft gush of wind comes in through the grill in the window, and her soft brunette hair swooshes around her face, framing her gorgeous apple cheeks, moving away just enough to let me catch sight of her dimples.

I never noticed how pretty she was… until this moment. There's something about her—a fire in her eyes, a determination that I can't help but admire. She's nothing like her weak-willed, ass-licking father, and it makes this whole situation even more interesting.

"Since you have nothing more to say that would prove useful to me, Lilah," I say, smirking as I take in her defiant posture. “I think we’re done here now. Better make yourself comfortable. You’re going to be here a long, long time. You might as well get comfortable with that idea.”

With that, I turn to leave. The lock clicks into place, the sound echoing through the dimly-lit room. I lean against the door, smirking as I imagine Lilah pacing inside like a caged lioness. The thought of having her here, my unwilling captive, sets a thrill coursing through my veins. Lilah is unlike anyone I've ever encountered before—a spitfire with the courage to stand up to me, even in her current situation.

I shake my head and wipe the smile off my face. Now’s the time for such musings. I need to see if we’re any closer to getting our money back.

I walk to my office and call in one of my men.

“Daniil,” I say as soon as he enters. "Any news from Lenny?"

"Nothing yet," he replies. I frown and lean back, ready to dismiss him. I check all incoming communication on my end. No messages.

An hour goes by with no word from Lenny. Worry gnaws at the edge of my mind, but it's not about the Zolotov money. Instead, I find myself concerned for an entirely different reason. What if she speaks the truth and really is just an innocent girl caught up in this mess?

"Daniil," I say into the earpiece. "I need you to look into Lenny's whereabouts. Find out if there's any truth to what the girl said about this being a case of mistaken identity."

"Understood," Daniil replies curtly.

As I wait for my right-hand man to report back, I can't help but think about Lilah in that room, full of fury and frustration. She's nothing like the women I've known before—submissive and eager to please. She challenges me, pushes me to my limits, and somehow, I find it intoxicating.

Somehow, she’s embedded herself in my mind.

"Lev," Daniil's voice interrupts my thoughts as the door bursts open. "We found something. Lenny left his house, but we're still looking into where he went."

"Stay on it," I order, my heart racing. “I need that money back.”

“There’s something else.”

He slams his phone on my desk. An Instagram page pops up for Lilah Ramsey. There are tons of photos of Lenny and her on it. Daniil plays her current Instagram story.

It’s Lenny's daughter at some exotic beach resort. She's definitely not here, and she looks nothing like the woman I have captured. The girl in the pictures is skinny, with thin legs, flat breasts, and black hair.

A sinking feeling forms in my chest. I've made a grave mistake.

“Find Lenny,” I tell Daniil, dismissing him.

He closes the door behind him. The weight of my actions settles heavily on my shoulders as I realize I’ve got the wrong woman.

I quickly go on the internet and search for the name she gave me. A few profiles later, I find her on Facebook. Pippa Anderson is who she says she is. A college student who works part-time, on a scholarship.

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