Page 41 of The Bratva's Prisoner Bride

His lip pulled at that, and his eyes gleamed while they took me in. "Not at all...everyone starts somewhere, right? I'd rather it be me exposing you to this anyway."

Something about that vaguely possessive statement made my insides squirm in a good way.

"Then I won't stop you."

His light amusement lingered, brightening up his features in a way that brought back the charm I had seen before.

Seeing this sweeter side of him felt like a heavy dose of deja vu, reminding me of how perfect he had been to me before everything. Before my involvement with my brother tanked my connection to the Fokins.

It was comforting in a way to know that he was still capable of showing that side, even if I had been the reason why it went away in the first place.

I couldn't tell if he meant 'Zoey' deserved to be treated to such nice things, or if that applied to my real self, but either way, I didn't want that pleasant side of him to leave.

After a beat of silence, he gave me a look that spoke of his curiosity. "I'm well aware that I don't know enough about you, and I know that's contributing to your boredom...but I'd like to know more."

My brows went up fractionally at that, not knowing what to say. Ivan conceding to any capacity was shocking.

He continued, "I found that drawing of myself in the kitchen earlier..."

Embarrassment flushed through me in a warm wave at the mention of it, and I internally shrank.

I forgot all about it, and I had to admit, the thought of him seeing it made me squirm.

Yet, he didn't seem even remotely angry. That was the most shocking part of all.

After a moment, Ivan let go of an amused huff. "Honestly, it was quite good. Have you practiced?"

Despite the tendrils of shame that remained at the thought of him seeing the furious doodle, I pulled in a breath and nodded. "Yeah, I used to paint when I was younger. I didn't have much to do when Rurik forced me into hiding, but he would keep me preoccupied with whatever drawing supplies he could find. When I got older and had more freedom while helping him, I did what I could to get better paints and brushes."

Ivan listened intently to every word I said, looking genuinely interested in what I had to say. "Sounds like it was therapeutic for you, in a sense."

"I suppose it was...but it's been a while since I've painted anything."

He shrugged. "Even so, it seems like that skill is still there. That's more than most people can say."

Feeling strangely bashful at him, insinuating I had any kind of skill, I smiled faintly and picked at the last of my meal. "I wouldn't mind taking it up again."

"And I wouldn't mind seeing more of what you can do," he murmured, apparently meaning every word.

Despite myself, I felt moved by how supportive he seemed of the idea.

He had no reason to try...if he really wanted to, he could've just ignored me entirely and kept going as he was. He could've tossed me aside and continued to torment me.

But there was something different about how he looked at me...the way he spoke and looked sincere in his intentions.

It was startling but also nice.

Somehow, he didn't seem quite as brutish as before, and I found myself preferring it.

Chapter 17 - Ivan

I didn't know what was happening to me, but a part of me wasn't entirely against it.

Sitting across from Daria at that table, nestled in the restaurant I once envisioned bringing her to, seemed to put it all into perspective—one I hadn't considered since starting my plan to make her pay for everything.

Watching her smile made me realize I had exactly what I wanted before. Back in Mexico, I wanted nothing more than to have her as my own...to see her in ways that other people wouldn't have the privilege of seeing. I had been so infatuated with her that I was willing to risk it all just to have her in that position.

Daria was my wife, and while there was no need to play any kind of games to get her, it seemed like the chase was changing.

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