Page 62 of Forced Bratva Prisoner

“For what?” I put the book down on the side table and tilt my head towards him, my eyes wide with curiosity.

“We’ve going for a drive. A change of scenery for you.”

“Oh my goodness, yes. I’ll be ready in five minutes.”

I bolt out of the living room to grab a different top. My jeans are fine, but I want to find something better than this hoodie.

I choose my soft cashmere jersey and an olive-green jacket. Then I bolt downstairs with a grin on my face.

“Ready.”

“That was quick,” Leon says, pushing the front door open.

In the car he asks, “When last did you go to a spa?”

“A spa?” I know I sound like a broken record repeating him, but I don’t understand the question.

“You know, a luxury spa. To have a massage or get your nails done or do a beauty treatment—things like that.”

I laugh. “I’ve never been to a spa. Do you really think that’s the kind of thing my father would let me go to?”

“I suppose not.” He shrugs. “Well, I own a few of them. They are a front for my actual business, which is money laundering. I thought I would show you around one of them because it’s quite close by.”

“Oh, awesome. I’d love to see that.”

He straps himself in and makes sure I am, too, then heads out onto the road towards his business. He seems proud to show it off to me—excited, even.

We park outside and he holds the car door open for me.

Walking in, the staff are happy to see him.

“Mr. Dubrov. We didn’t know you were visiting today,” the lady at reception says, coming around the counter to greet him.

“Hi Shakira, I wanted to show my wife the facility. Are you busy today? Can we walk around?”

“You know we are always busy, but of course you can walk around.”

“How are the kids? Is your little one adjusting to the new school okay?”

“She’s doing so well. Thank you again for having her put in the private school. I can’t tell you what it means to my family.”

“Shakira, your daughter is gifted, and she deserves the best school. It was no problem at all.”

“Can I make you and your wife some lunch or coffee, or a cocktail?”

“We will definitely have something a little later. For now, I just want to give her a tour.”

“You just shout when you need me.”

Leon walks into the facility, leading me by my hand. I can’t help but admire how friendly and kind he is to each of the staff members who come to greet him. They obviously really like him. The fact that someone treats their staff well means a lot to me, because they are people who deserve respect just as much as anyone else. That’s something my father never learned.

“This place is amazing,” I comment, admiring how luxurious it looks. But I can’t brush off the feeling that it reminds me of my father’s setup. He has luxury restaurants which are covers for his money laundering businesses, but then in the basement of those restaurants he has torture chambers.

“Um, beneath this place—do you have the torture chambers in the basement?”

Leon turns to glare at me in horror.

“Torture chambers?”

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