Page 53 of Virgin Bratva Prisoner

“I’m one hundred percent sure. I already know you aren’t a big fan of thislifestyleand I want to get to know therealyou.”

Oleg chuckles at me, shaking his head. “Alright. Follow me then.”

He leads me through the restaurant, crowded and noisy, with a jazz band playing on the stage near the edge of the room. We walk around the dance floor, towards the big doors to leave.

We head back out to the car and climb inside. The hostess comes running after us, looking very worried. “Sir, was something not to your liking, I can have your table changed, we can—“

Oleg shakes his head and holds up his hand. “No, Sarah, thank you. Everything is perfectly fine. We just had a change of heart and decided we would prefer to do something else tonight.”

“Oh, um—“ she looks shocked. As though no one has ever walked away from a booking at this place. I wonder what it even took to get a table here. It’s so popular I bet it’s booked months in advance.

The engine revs to life and Oleg pulls away from the over-the-top restaurant and the crowds of mafia-connected families.

I am so curious about where he is going to take me, but I don’t ask—I want it to be a surprise. It’s more fun that way. All I know is that I would rather see his favorite place than some fancy overpriced restaurant full of snobs.

“When last were you in this city?” I ask instead.

“About two months ago. We host some of the bigger meetings here. When all the families need to connect and discuss important business. It’s always a bit chaotic. There is somewhere I go to get a break from the meetings.”

“That’s where you are taking me now?”

“Exactly.”

He reaches out and brushes his hand over my thigh. My heart stutters, my breathing gets a little faster. Then he pulls his hand back, leaving me wanting more.

We don’t drive far before Oleg pulls the car over in a parking space near the beach.

“Is your favorite restaurant here somewhere?” I ask, no longer able to contain my curiosity.

“Not quite,” he grins, enjoying the mystery he is creating.

When we are out of the car, he holds out his hand and I place my hand in his, smiling as I thread my fingers between his.

We walk along the promenade in the cool evening breeze until we reach a food truck. An old man leans out of the window.“Oleg, it’s been a while my friend.” He grins down at Oleg, his wild grey hair thinning and his smile creating deep cracks on his face.

“It has, I’ve brought my wife along—she wanted to know my favorite place in this city—so here we are.”

“Wow, your wife? That is a surprise. It’s lovely to meet you.” He smiles at me and nods his head then turns his attention back to Oleg. “So, two of the usual?” He chuckles.

“Two of the usual.”

The old man disappears from the window and Oleg pulls me against his side as he looks towards the ocean. The sounds of the waves are already relaxing me.

I look at him and ask, “what did you order?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” His entire posture has changed, being here instead of that restaurant. There is a smile on his face, a light shining in his eyes. He has taken off his jacket and slung it over his shoulder, the sleeves of his shirt are rolled halfway up his forearm.

He looks really good like this.

It’s not long to wait before the food truck owner hands Oleg two take away boxes. “Did you put extra salt and vinegar on?” Oleg asks. “Of course,” the gray-haired man replies as though the answer should be obvious and he’s even offended Oleg asked in the first place.

After saying thanks and good-bye, Oleg leads me down to the beach where the rock pools start. The wind is a little stronger here, but the air is still warm. He drapes his jacket over my shoulders. Then, he takes a seat on a large smooth rock at the edge of the smooth white sand. He taps the rock next to himself to invite me to sit as well.

When we are comfortable, he hands me one of the take away boxes. I lift the lid and laugh.

“Fish and chips,” I say with a wide grin.

“The chips are nice and soft too, with extra salt and vinegar all over them. The best way.”

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