Page 45 of The Bratva's Prisoner Bride

My brows furrowed slightly as I skimmed over the message at first, expecting it to be from Ivan. But upon closer inspection, I realized the number wasn't in my contacts.

The text read:

Need youR help...be ready.

At first, the confusion had me completely in its clutches until that single letter stood out to me. Then, it sank in, and my stomach dropped.

It wasn't random or a typo...no, it was perfectly intentional.

That was how my brother would let me know it was him contacting me whenever he used a different phone for whatever reason, and to prevent naming himself in the process just in case anything were to happen.

It had become a normal thing, but to see it again after knowing he was being held by the Fokins made me even more confused.

He had strings he pulled often, but how would he have gotten a cell phone where he was locked up?

It didn't make any sense.

There was a chance one of his men was trying to prepare me for something if it didn't come from Rurik directly, but even if that was the case, I didn't want anything to do with it.

The thought of hearing from my brother again after being without him for weeks made my stomach turn.

My hands shook faintly while I swiped to delete the message. Regardless of what was going on behind the scenes, I didn't want anything to do with it.

I didn't want to hear from or see Rurik. Not when I finally had the chance to be out of his clutches.

Going from my brother to Ivan didn't start out ideally; there were fundamental differences in how I had been treated by both, and after it was said and done, I didn't want to go back to how things were.

Regardless of his faults, Ivan seemed to be trying, and if the cell phone was any indication, he was starting to trust me.

Forcing the text out of my mind, I went about my business, grabbing breakfast before I made my way to my at-home studio.

After running my ideas by Ivan, I landed on a few pieces of furniture to occupy the space, along with some storage units, drying racks, and, of course, a few different easels, depending on what I needed them for. Along with the perfect natural light that came in through the windows, the room really did look like a studio, and it quickly became the room I frequented the most in the house.

I started the day off with some color theory and practiced manipulating oil paint since it was new to me. Then, I got started on a new piece. Of course, I still had that portrait Ivan wanted in the back of my mind, but I wanted to take my time on it.

Veronica had brought me lunch and different drinks throughout the day, asking me questions and looking over some of my work while she did.

While I didn't feel quite as guilty for pestering her as I had before when I had nothing better to do, I was beginning tomiss our chats. Luckily, she would sometimes sit with me in the studio during her breaks, and it was nice to fall into that sort of routine.

Eventually, as the day grew later, I made my way to the living room to unwind a bit. With my phone in hand, I paused upon entering the space when I noticed something new about it.

My eyes widened slightly at the sight of one of my paintings hung up on the wall, right in line with the sitting area to provide the perfect view of it.

I was surprised to see it there, hanging like it was a painting worth millions that Ivan had snagged at an auction. Instead, it was something I made myself, and he was showcasing it like he would for something valuable.

I softened at the thought, unable to hold back how touched I was by it.

He didn't need to do anything remotely like that. He could've left the walls plain and empty like most other rooms in the house, confining my art to my studio. Yet, he was displaying it freely, and something about that made me feel a bit better about our situation.

"Looks nice up there, doesn't it?"

Glancing over my shoulder, I watched as Ivan approached with a light grin, moving to my side.

Still trying to grapple with the thoughtful gesture, I managed to nod before taking another look at it. "It does...but you didn't have to hang it up."

In a way, it was slightly embarrassing, almost like a parent hanging up a class project. But more so, it seemed like a sincere attempt to not only connect with my art but also with me.

And that was a nicer thought than I imagined.

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