Page 54 of Ruthless Bratva King

He tilts his head, studying me with an expression that borders on amusement. “Do you think those admissions aren’t already influenced by money? I simply leveled the playing field for you.”

I throw my hands in the air. “That’s not the point! I wanted to earn my place, Dmitri. On my own merits. Not because someone bought it for me.”

His calm demeanor infuriates me. “And I’m telling you, this is how the world works. Connections. Influence. Money. You can choose to accept it or fight against it, but it won’t change the reality.”

My fists clench at my sides. “You had no right?—”

“I have every right,” he interrupts, his voice turning steel-edged. “You’re mine now, Elena. Your safety, your future—it’s my responsibility.”

“Responsibility?” I snap. “I didn’t ask for you to bribe the college!”

“No,” he says, his tone softening just enough to send a shiver through me. “But I did it anyway. Whether you like it or not, I’ll take care of you. That’s not up for debate.”

I open my mouth to argue but stop when I see the look in his eyes—unyielding, possessive, and utterly certain. The kind of certainty that brooks no opposition.

“You’re impossible,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest.

“And you’re too stubborn,” he counters, stepping even closer. “But I’d rather you be furious with me and have what you need than see you struggle. Your talent deserves to be nurtured, Elena. Even if I have to break a few rules to make that happen.”

For a moment, I think about how much easier it would be if I could hate him for what he’s done. But instead, I feel a flicker of something dangerous—gratitude mixed with a reluctant kind of admiration.

“I have to go handle the man who came to the door,” he says calmly, getting to his feet. “What do you need to keep you busy for a while?”

Caught off guard by his directness, I fumble for a response. “Uh … sketchpads. And maybe a computer?”

He raises a brow, his amusement clear. “That’s all? You could’ve asked for a helicopter. Or a couple of sports cars.”

The corners of my mouth lift despite myself. “I’m a simple girl, Dmitri.”

He chuckles, the sound warm and rich, momentarily lightening the weight of the conversation. “Not simple. Unique.”

My cheeks heat at the compliment, and I glance away, pretending to busy myself with straightening the silverware. “I just don’t need much.”

“I’ll make sure you have everything you need.” He stands, towering over me, his presence commanding even in this quiet moment.

As he turns to leave, an impulse grips me. Before I can second-guess myself, I rise and grab his arm.

When he looks back at me, his dark eyes questioning, I lean up and press a kiss to his lips. It’s soft, quick, but full of the emotions I can’t yet put into words.

“Be careful,” I whisper.

His gaze locks onto mine, something unspoken passing between us. Then he nods, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Never had anyone give a shit before.” He kisses me back. “Could get used to it.”

38

ELENA

Iglance at my phone for the hundredth time, willing it to buzz, ring—anything to connect me to Dmitri.

After an hour, it does. The relief that washes over me is immediate and almost embarrassing. I swipe to answer so fast I nearly drop the thing.

“Dmitri?”

“Miss me already?” His voice is low and calm, that edge of smugness tugging at the corners of his words.

“Not even a little,” I lie, pacing back and forth.

He chuckles, a warm sound that sends a shiver down my spine. “A man is about to knock on your door,” he says. “The laptop will be left on the step. They’re under instructions not to come inside. Only open the door once they’ve gone. I’ll call you later.”

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