Page 71 of Captive Virgin of the Bratva

Her silence burns hotter than her words ever could.

“Say it,” I murmur.

Her brows twitch. “Say what?”

“That you felt it.”

She scoffs, but the sound lacks its usual venom. “You want me to admit I enjoyed being manhandled in a hallway like some kind of—”

“Like my fiancée?” I cut in, leaning closer. “Because that’s what you are.”

Her eyes narrow. “By force.”

“By necessity,” I correct. “Bydesign.”

She finally tugs her arms free. I let her.

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” she says, stepping back. “You dragged me into your world, and now you want me to thank you for it?”

“No.” I follow her retreat, slow and deliberate. “I want you to stop pretending it hasn’t changed you.”

Her mouth twists. “You think a kiss changes everything?”

I smirk. “No.Youdo.”

That makes her flinch, just slightly. And that’s all it takes. I see it. The crack. The part of her she keeps sealed behind fire and pride. Shewantsthis—us—but she hates herself for it.

She turns away, but I’m already there, catching her wrist again—gentler this time.

“You’re still mine, Elise,” I say softly. “Whether you scream it or whisper it or deny it.”

Her voice is quiet when it comes. “You terrify me.”

I nod once. “Good.”

Then—then I reach out and brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I won’t let anyone else touch you,” I whisper. “Not while you wear my name. Not while you breathe.”

She shudders at that, but she doesn’t walk away.

Chapter Eighteen - Elise

Ever sinceshewalked into the mansion with her perfect hair, her sleek dress, and her smug little smile like she already knew everything about Kolya, I’ve been unraveling in quiet, deliberate pieces.

I don’t even know who she was. He didn’t tell me—not really. He dodged it with arrogance and heat, turning the question into another game of power and possession, until I was too dizzy to hold on to the anger long enough to push for more. But her voice still echoes in my head. The way she looked at me like I was temporary. Like I didn’t matter.

It shouldn’t bother me. Itdoes.

I hate that it does.

I’ve kept my distance since then, held my tongue, measured my breathing when he’s near. He notices. Of course he does. Nothing escapes Kolya’s notice. He watches me like a hawk circling a wounded animal—curious whether I’ll limp or fight. But for once, he says nothing. No taunts. No touch.

I think that might be worse.

By midmorning, I can’t take the walls anymore. Can’t take the marble floors and silk curtains and quiet luxury that now feels like a coffin lined in gold.

“I want to go for a walk,” I say, interrupting his conversation with Boris in the hall.

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