Page 11 of Accidental Bratva Daddy

She twists in my grip, and the movement causes her to brush against me in a way that sends a jolt of heat straight to my core. From the way Natalia suddenly stills, her breath catching, I know she felt it too.

"Why?" she whispers, her voice breaking on the word. "Why did you kill him?"

The pain in her voice cuts through me like a knife. For a moment, I consider lying, spinning some tale that would make me look less monstrous in her eyes. But something about Natalia demands honesty, even when the truth is ugly.

"It was a mistake," I admit, my voice rough. “One I wish desperately that I could take back. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. That night… was supposed to be different.”

Our eyes lock, and suddenly I'm transported back to that night in her hotel room. The softness of her skin, the taste of her lips, the way she'd moaned my name as she came undone beneath me. The memory is so vivid, so visceral, that for a moment I forget to breathe.

Natalia's eyes darken, her pupils dilating as she holds my gaze. I can feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest against mine, her heart racing in time with my own. The air between us crackles with tension, equal parts desire and barely contained violence.

A soft moan escapes her lips, the sound so reminiscent of our previous encounter that it takes every ounce of my self-control not to claim her mouth right then and there. The heat between us simmers, threatening to boil over at any moment.

I want to tell her everything. To explain the mistake, to make her understand. But as I look into her eyes, blazing with a mixture of fury and unmistakable desire, I know that words are useless right now. Whatever happens next, it's clear that the dynamic between Natalia and me has shifted irrevocably.

And God help me, but I'm not sure I want to stop it.

6

Natalia

My heart pounds against my ribcage as I stare into Luka's steel-blue eyes. His body presses me against the cold concrete wall, his grip firm but not painful. The heat radiating from him is intoxicating, a stark contrast to the chill of the basement room that's become my prison.

"Are you going to behave now?" Luka asks, his voice low and rough.

I want to spit in his face, to claw at him until he bleeds. But the memory of his earlier words echoes in my mind. A mistake. My father's death was a mistake. The thought makes me dizzy with a confusing mix of relief and renewed anger.

I roll my eyes, forcing nonchalance I don't feel. "I'll behave," I say, my voice steadier than I expected. "If you answer some questions for me."

Luka studies me for a long moment, his gaze so intense I feel like he can see right through me. Finally, he nods and releaseshis hold, taking a step back. The sudden absence of his warmth leaves me feeling oddly bereft.

"Ask your questions," he says, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

I take a deep breath, trying to organize the chaos in my mind. "You're not just a businessman, are you?" It's not really a question. I know the answer, but I need to hear him say it.

"No," Luka replies, his expression unreadable. "I'm the leader of the Volkov Syndicate."

The words hang in the air between us, heavy with implication. I knew, of course. I'd pieced it together from the fragments of conversation I'd overheard, from the way his men defer to him. But hearing him say it out loud makes it real in a way it wasn't before.

"A crime syndicate," I clarify, needing to hear the full truth.

Luka doesn't flinch. "Yes."

The confirmation sends a shiver down my spine. This man, this dangerous, powerful man, is the same one who held me so tenderly that night in my hotel room. The same one who made me feel things I'd never felt before. The same one who killed my father.

"Why?" I demand, unable to keep the fury from my voice. "Why did you do it? Why did you kill my father?"

Luka's jaw tightens, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "I told you, it was a mistake. The hit was meant for your uncle, Viktor."

"But why?" I press, taking a step towards him. "What could my uncle have possibly done to warrant a death sentence?"

Luka runs a hand through his hair, a gesture so human it catches me off guard. "Your uncle isn't who you think he is, Natalia. He's Kirill Baranov, the head of a rival organization. He's been using your family as a shield for years."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I stumble back, my legs suddenly weak. Luka reaches out to steady me, but I flinch away from his touch.

"No," I whisper, shaking my head. "That's not possible. Uncle Viktor... he's just a businessman. He can't be..."

"I'm sorry," Luka says, and to my surprise, he actually sounds sincere. "I know it's a lot to take in. But it's the truth."

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