Page 65 of Virgin Bratva Hostage

“What do you want to do today?” I ask as I walk into the dining room. She is busy gathering the empty plates to carry them to the kitchen, so I immediately start helping her with that. Anything to stay busy and avoid giving away the anxiety I feel.

“Mm. Every month, on the last weekend of the month, there is a market held in the park—the one right in the city center. They have interesting little things to look at and some amazing foods. We can roam a bit and have lunch there—if you like?”

“That sounds perfect,” I smile, taking the plates from her and adding them to what I’m carrying. “Why don’t you go get ready?”

Ruslana goes upstairs and I drop the dishes off in the kitchen.

How am I going to get through an entire day without letting her know what’s worrying me?

I message Dex.

Me: Rodion Kuznetsov has made contact. He denies any involvement in the attacks. Have you found any evidence yet? Please, get back to me urgently.

Dex: I’ll check in with everyone now and see if there is any new information.

***

Ruslana looks beautiful. We are roaming the park and wandering from stall to stall. She brightens up as she admires little trinkets and handmade items. Her long, flowing white dress catches the soft breeze every now and then and I stare ather for too long, wondering what she would look like in a real wedding dress.

“Oh my goodness, you have to taste this,” she grins, lifting a piece of cake to my mouth. I bite into it and salted caramel flavors spread across my tongue. “Wow,” I mutter.

“It’s so good. I’m definitely getting some to have at home,” she declares, ordering two slices in a takeaway box.

A genuine smile touches my lips, thinking about how she refers to my place as home. I would love for her to live with me.

Her energy is infectious. She has this beautiful sense of happiness around her. Everyone she speaks to at the market brightens in her presence.

I brighten in her presence.

I don’t feel like myself when I’m around her—I feel like someone better than me.

And that makes me want to be better for her.

I shake the thought from my mind as she slips her hand in mine and pulls me to the next stall.

All afternoon we walk together enjoying a slow day. Warm sunshine splashing down on us. The scent of fresh-cut grass and tall trees drifting on the breeze.

Ruslana is carrying two big brown paper shopping bags and looking thrilled about it. She has freshly roasted coffee beans, salted caramel cake, lavender bath salts, body lotions, candles and new, handmade coffee mugs which she thinks will look great in the kitchen.

She gets so excited about the little things that I end up getting excited about them too.

The sun is dipping lower on the horizon and she says, “Let’s go home, make some fresh coffee in our new mugs and eat salted caramel cake out in the garden.”

“That sounds absolutely perfect,” I agree. And it does. It sounds like the way I would want to end every day—with her by my side.

At home, Ruslana rushes to the kitchen just as my phone starts ringing.

“I’ll be right there,” I call after her, stopping in the foyer to answer the call in private.

“Royce, what can I do for you?”

“Sir, we have the evidence we need. Everything points to the Kuznetsovs.”

“Dex said—“

“Dex told me that he denied it—the leader of the family—but he was lying to you. The evidence is clear.”

“You aresure about this? One hundred percent sure?”

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