Page 19 of Claimed Bratva Virgin

I caught myself before I envisioned his eyes again or the warmth of his body when he came close to me.

What the hell?

Why did it even matter what his motives were?

This man was snapping my ropes with his bare hands, obviously setting me free, and that was more important than musing over something undeniably stupid and impossible.

“Am I being led somewhere else?”

Rafayel did say he was going to send someone down to make me more comfortable, but I was being insulting when I started the rats and weasels taunt, and I could have sworn he was throwing his sarcasm right back with sickening content.

Tikhon stepped back, giving me some space to stretch my legs out. I stretched my hands above my head, feeling the air brush my bare stomach. Being a captive in a Russian underground prison didn’t come with privileges attached, like having a bath or breakfast in bed. That left me in the same clothes I’d used to race on the track. And I was certain I had the odor of a skunk by now.

Tikhon regarded me with a hint of amusement, his eyes not once straying away from my face. Strange that he appeared to have his shit together.

He bobbed his head toward the door. “Not being led somewhere. You’re free to go. Your father did as he was told.”

Shit.

We’d lost Jabril.

“How long?”

Tikhon knew what I was asking. How long did it take to break my papa? How long did it take before he made the decision to give up his pride?

I knew the answer before the big guy responded.

“One hour after he received the package, though it left us three hours ago.”

I couldn’t say I was completely sad. For a girl like me, having the reassurance of Papa’s love was worth more than a multimillion-dollar client. Enzo Colombo didn’t have a lot of love to give, but he made exceptions where Matteo and I were concerned.

What pissed me off was Rafayel’s triumph, knowing he was getting off on his victory. He’d predicted right: Send hair samples to the doting father, and he’d do whatever it took to let his little girl go.

Without a word, I let Tikhon lead the way.

Rafayel might have won today, but his luck was going to run out soon enough.

****

The iron gates automatically rolled back, and my Audi climbed up the winding gravel driveway while the Mediterranean house came up into view. As always, the exterior was brightly lit, making the vibrant bougainvillea by the wall appear like an artificial attachment.

A glimpse of the sturdy structure and flowing fountain at the center brought back the nostalgia, jogging memories of my younger days when Matteo and I would ride our bikes down the driveway and up again without a care in the world. When life was simple, and we had no knowledge of the illegal activities our father conducted behind closed doors.

At that time, it was just us, existing in a beautiful world with child-like hearts and naïve expectations of a future that could’ve as well been castles built in the air.

I killed the engine, and the stiletto heels of my knee-high cuffed boots dug through the stony ground as I walked up to the entrance.

A few of Papa’s men were already waiting for me.

“Benvenuta.”They acknowledged with curt nods, and I did a doubletake.

Most of them were unfamiliar and much younger. And I caught a pair of eyes wandering down the length of my body, lingering on the skintight burgundy jumpsuit and down the curve of my ass.

I raised a brow. “Eyes up here,fesso.”Silly.

He uncomfortably looked away, and the one beside him with green eyes and unruly hair snickered at his embarrassment.

Attractive young men with fresh haircuts, crisp white button-ups, and inexperienced eyes. New recruits, I supposed. If they were waiting outside, it meant Papa wanted them to get acquainted.

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