Page 22 of Innocently Captured By the Bratva

Lara nods grimly. “He does and has tried to put Charlie in his place. But proving anything against Charlie is like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands. He's cunning, manipulative, and has powerful connections that protect him from the consequences of his actions.”

Silence hangs heavily in the air between us. Knowing what I know now about Letvin makes my skin prickle. To imagine he was in my apartment, to think about what could have happened, suddenly helps me understand where Mark is coming from. A mild wave of gratitude washes over me. Mark might be part of the Bratva, but he’s not evil. He might have kidnapped me, but it was only to keep me safe. He’s never had any ill intentions toward me.

Both these men, from the same world, couldn’t be more different.

I meet Lara's gaze, my own expression resolute. “Thank you for sharing that with me,” I say sincerely. “It's helpful to have a better understanding of the dynamics at play here.”

Lara nods, a glimmer of respect in her eyes. “Of course. You're part of the family now, Quinn. It's important that you know what you're getting into.”

As we continue chatting and our conversation flows more easily, I genuinely enjoy Lara's company. Her insights and anecdotes paint a vivid picture of the Zolotov family, allowing me to see them in a new light—as a complex tapestry of individuals, each with their own motivations and desires, who love nothing more than their family.

At the center of it all is Mark, the man who has turned my life upside down in ways I could never have imagined.

***

That evening, I hear a knock on my door.

“Come in,” I say.

Mark steps inside quietly, leaving the door ajar behind him. He leans against the frame for a moment, one hand in his pocket, and I’m reminded of the first night we met at the bar. In this stance, with his side profile catching the light, he looks as handsome as he did that night.

“Hi!” I say, and stand to walk towards him, without thinking. Halfway through, I stop. What’s the grand plan here? Go over andhughim? Dear god, no!

I chide myself for my impulsive move, and he watches me closely. “Hi,” he says, standing tall and stepping toward me, his eyes locked onto mine.

His presence fills the space, commanding and magnetic, and I feel my pulse quicken despite myself.

“Lara came over today,” I state, taking a step back, trying to regain some semblance of control, all of which seems to have gone out the window at the unexpected sight of him.

“I see.” There’s a small frown on his face.

“We had a good time,” I add, and the frown wipes off.

“I’m happy to hear that,” he says. “I came in here to see if I could borrow you for a moment. I have something to show you.”

I raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued even as wariness coils in my gut over how civilized this conversation feels. “Oh?”

Mark nods, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Come with me.”

I hesitate for a moment, then follow Mark out of the room, acutely aware of his presence at my side. He leads me down a hallway I haven't explored yet, stopping in front of a closed door.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs, and I comply, my heart pounding in my chest as I hear the door swing open. Mark takes my hand, guiding me forward, and I feel plush carpet beneath my feet.

“Okay,” he says, his voice low and close to my ear. “Open them.”

I blink against the sudden brightness of the lights, and then my jaw drops. The room before me is a stunning homeoffice, complete with a sleek desk, a state-of-the-art computer, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

“Mark,” I breathe, turning to face him with wide eyes. “What is this?”

He shrugs, but I notice the satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “I wanted you to have a space of your own here,” he says. “Somewhere you can work on your business without distractions. I had it renovated, and,” he pulls my phone out of his pocket and hands it to me. “Here’s your phone, as promised. You should get back to your clients and parents. They must be worried sick.”

I gaze at the device, moved by the gesture. He kept his promise. I listened to his plan, and in return, he did his part. Could it really have been this simple?

I step further into the room, running my fingers along the polished surface of the desk. It's clear that a great deal of thought and effort went into this space.

“Why are you doing this?” My voice comes out hoarse at the unexpected kindness.

“Because, Quinn, as I said, I’m not keeping you prisoner. I’m simply trying to keep you safe and remind Charlie Letvin of his place in the world.”

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