Page 25 of Innocent Bratva Hostage

He looked like he was considering whether to tell me or not. He made his decision after a moment, though. “We’ll talk about it next time. For now, I think you should just have some fun with your fiancée.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but Giselle cut me off before I could even start. “Thank you very much. You’re so sweet.”

Before I could steer Giselle away, someone else interrupted.

“Yezhov,” a deep, smooth voice called out, drawing my attention.

I turned to see Viktor Volkov, an associate from the Bratva in Russia, standing beside us with a glass of whiskey in hand. He was a tall, well-groomed man with sharp blue eyesand a reputation for being both charming and dangerous—a combination I wasn’t particularly fond of at the moment.

“Volkov,” I greeted curtly, keeping my arm around Giselle’s waist. I didn’t care that I was acting extra possessive of her tonight as long as it kept the other men away from her.

His gaze slid to her with blatant interest. “And who might this stunning woman be?”

“My fiancée,” I said, my voice firm. “Giselle Rae.”

A slow, knowing smile curled on Viktor’s lips as he took her hand and pressed a kiss against her knuckles, much like Antonio had done. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Rae.”

Giselle, ever the charmer, responded with an easy smile. “Likewise, Mr.—”

“Please, call me Viktor,” he said with a smile, holding her hand just a second too long before finally letting go. His attention remained fixed on her as he took a sip of his whiskey. “I didn’t know you were engaged to such a gorgeous woman at that.”

I could sniff his intentions from a mile away. Bloody horny bastard. It was the first time I’d ever felt the need to put a bullet between someone’s head for something that wasn’t related to mafia business.

A slow smile played on my lips. It was more like a warning for him to steer clear. “Now you do.”

He ignored my warning and smiled even wider at Giselle. She smiled back. I regretted telling her to smile; I should have told her to do the opposite. “Would you do me the honor of a dance, Miss Rae?”

I stiffened, my grip tightening on Giselle’s waist. “She—”

“I would love to,” Giselle interrupted, turning to face me with a teasing glint in her eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing.

She was trying to drive me to the edge with jealousy, and it was working.

My jaw ticked, but I didn’t argue. I simply held her gaze, silently warning her that this game she was playing was dangerous. She only smiled, slipping her hand into Viktor’s as he led her toward the dance floor.

My blood simmered as I watched them dance.

Viktor pulled her close, his hand pressing against the small of her back while they moved to the slow rhythm of the music.

She looked up at him, laughing at something he whispered, and I felt my fingers curl into fists.

This was what jealousy felt like. It was something I’d never imagined I would be in the position to experience, yet here I was, veins bulging and eyes red. I could barely think straight or keep my composure.

I grabbed a glass of whiskey from the table behind me and finished it in one long gulp. The liquor burned down my throat, but it did nothing to dull the bitterness curling inside me as the world blurred, leaving only the sight of both of them together to burn into my memory.

Viktor spun her around, wrapping his arm around her waist this time and bringing his face closer to hers.

That was all it took for me to snap.

I slammed the now empty glass on the table, and before I knew it, I was striding over to them. I didn’t care to hide my displeasure as I pulled Giselle away from him and hauled her closer to myself.

My brows furrowed. “That’s enough dancing with my fiancée.”

A sly smile tugged at the corner of Viktor’s mouth. “Your fiancée is a delight to be around. I must’ve kept her longer than I intended because I genuinely enjoyed her company.”

Delight.

I almost chuckled at the word. The sly fox really thought living in England for a couple of months made him British.

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