Page 21 of Forced Prisoner By the Bratva

Erik was fully dressed in his usual impeccably tailored suit. Not a single strand was out of place; his dark hair was slicked back, revealing his sharp jawline and piercing green eyes.

When he met my gaze, a flutter flickered in my chest, and my breath hitched in my throat. I blinked, breaking eye contact with him as I pulled back a chair and sat on it, my gaze fixed on the dishes.

I sensed his eyes on me, and it made my skin prickle and my heart skip a beat. Too intimidated to look in his direction, I focused on the mouth-watering delicacies spread before me.But even the tantalizing aromas of these strange dishes couldn't distract me from the weight of his gaze.

“Good morning,” he greeted me, his voice deep and husky.

“Good morning,” I replied with almost a whisper, my eyes never leaving the table.

Breakfast featured a variety of dishes that looked and smelled incredible. However, since they were all traditional Russian delicacies, I had no idea how to eat them. There were platters of sliced meats, baskets of warm bread, and a bowl of fresh fruit that seemed to glisten in the light.

Of all of these, one in particular caught my attention—a stack of thin, delicate pancakes that looked almost like crepes. They were served with a dollop of creamy white sauce and a sprinkle of chopped herbs. But as enticing as they looked, I had no idea what they were or how to eat them.

My stomach growled in protest as I stared at the meal, unsure of how to go about it.

Erik's gaze still lingered—I could feel it. But he didn't say a word until he was done with his breakfast. He dabbed the napkin over his mouth and asked, his husky voice sending shivers down my spine, “Never had blini before?”

I raised my head and met his gaze for a fleeting moment, my response witty and sarcastic. “I've been too busy eating regular pancakes to try the fancy Russian kind.”

His lips twitched at the corners, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. Erik let out a dismissive scoff and went silent, leaving me to my struggles.

He didn't say another word until he was done with his coffee, and when he rose to his feet, I assumed that he was done with me for the morning at least. But was he?

Erik strolled over to my chair, his steps graceful, slow, and deliberate. My heart raced in my chest as he approached mewith a blank expression. A million thoughts overlapped in my mind as I had no idea what he was up to or if my sassy response had pissed him off.

I followed him with my eyes until he stopped behind me, his wonderfully rich cologne filling the air around us. My chest rose and fell slowly as he leaned closer, his skin brushing against mine. He picked up the fork and whispered in my ear, “Like this.” He showed me how to roll the thin, pancake-like blini with a small amount of filling.

I swallowed, my body subtly shivering at this close proximity. His hand brushed against mine, stirring up a flicker of emotion as he passed the fork back to me.

“Just like that,” he said, his voice a low whisper, deep and husky. “Easy.”

I could feel his breath on my skin, his lips barely inches from the nape of my neck. Reflexively, I tilted my head to the side as if inviting his lips and his touch. A spark of electricity jolted my body at the thought of his mouth on my skin.

It was nearly impossible to resist this unexpected temptation. How did he manage to spark such a fire within me without even trying so hard?

Erik straightened and, seconds later, dematerialized. His footsteps retreated, leaving the room with an air of nonchalance, as if he hadn't just spooked me.

I released a sharp exhale, my chest rising and falling from all that anxiety. It took me a minute to get a hold of myself, struck by his effortless ability to get under my skin.

I shouldn't feel this way; his presence shouldn't have this much effect on me, yet I can't help it. It feels as if I'm spellbound, enchanted. The worst part is that deep down, I think I like the feeling. I try to pretend I don't, but it’s not something I can easily ignore.

I could hide my emotions from him; I denied the feeling he'd stirred up inside of me, but I knew the truth.

For a man I professed to hate, Erik sure was slithering his way into my heart, gradually altering my perception of him.

I dropped the fork in my plate and rubbed my temples, confusion setting in.

Chapter 10 – Erik

“What's taking so long?” I grumbled under my breath, glancing at my watch.

My patience was wearing thinner by the second and I could feel a pang of irritation swelling within me. Time was of the utmost importance to me, and I hated wasting a second of it.

However, tonight, I'd wasted more than a few seconds—I'd wasted almost an hour waiting for my wife to get dressed. What on earth was she still doing up there? Did she not know that we were already late?

This never used to happen when I was an eligible bachelor. Never. And now, there I was, standing like a dork in the lounge, all thanks to one woman. I couldn't sit in one place anymore—I tried doing that, but it just didn't cut it for me.

I paced back and forth, constantly checking my gold watch every now and then. Half an hour; that was how long I'd been waiting for her, how long she'd tested my patience.

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