Page 39 of Innocently Captured By the Bratva

I take a deep breath, steeling myself against the sudden rush of emotion. “He believed that everyone deserves a chance at love, at happiness. And that's what I want to give my clients.”

Mark's gaze lingers on me for a moment longer, his expression inscrutable. “You're a hopeless romantic, you know?” he says, a hint of amusement in his tone.

I bristle at his words, my defenses rising. “And what's wrong with that?”

“Nothing. Except it can lead to disappointment.”

“Perhaps you’re just a cynic.”

“Or perhaps true love doesn’t exist,” he says simply.

I turn to him, incredulous. “You don’t believe in love?”

He chuckles, the sound low and rich, sending a shiver down my spine. “I never said I don't believe in love, Quinn. I just think true love isn’t all it’s meant to be. Love takes work. It’s not for everyone. I've seen it firsthand, how it can consume and destroy.”

There's a darkness in his eyes, a glimpse of the pain he keeps so carefully hidden. “And true love, the kind that lasts? That's a fairytale, a pretty lie we tell ourselves to make the world seem less cruel.”

I shake my head, refusing to accept his bleak worldview. “You're wrong, Mark. I've seen it too, the power of real connection, of two hearts finding each other against all odds.”

He steps closer, his gaze burning into mine. “And what happens when it falls apart? When the person you trusted most betrays you, leaves you broken and alone?”

The intensity of his words takes my breath away, and for a moment, I'm lost in the depths of his eyes. “Then you pick yourself up and try again,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Because the alternative is giving up, and I refuse to do that.”

For a long moment, we stand there, locked in a silent battle of wills. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the tension breaks, and Mark steps back, a rueful smile on his lips.

“You're a force to be reckoned with, Quinn Desmond,” he says, shaking his head. “A light in the darkness.”

His praise is so high that I don’t know what to say. With a smile of acknowledgment, I turn my attention back to Viktor and Elena, watching as they lean in for a soft, sweet kiss. The sight fills me with a sense of triumph and purpose.

“Look at them,” I murmur, my voice filled with wonder. “They're falling in love, right before our eyes.”

Mark follows my gaze, and I can see the reluctant admiration in his expression.

As Viktor and Elena stand to leave together, their hands intertwined, I feel a rush of pure elation. It's moments like these that make all the hard work worth it.

“We did it,” I squeal, turning to Mark with a grin that stretches from ear to ear. “They're perfect for each other, and we made it happen. Tonight was an absolute success!”

In a burst of sheer joy, I throw my arms around him, and he reaches for my waist, pulling me closer with a laugh. I pull back from his neck, his scent lingering on my senses, and the next thing I know, my heart races as we stand there in each other’s arms, our eyes locked on one another.

Mark gently lifts his hand to my cheek, and I lean into it. His touch sends a jolt of electricity through me, igniting a fire I can’t ignore. I part my lips, and his gaze is intense and searching.

“Quinn,” he breathes my name like a whispered prayer, his voice low and husky.

Instantly, I slam my lips against his. My heart pounds in my chest, the sound echoing in my ears. Every rational thought evaporates as I find myself drawn to him like a moth to a flame. The world fades away until it's just the two of us, suspended in this charged moment.

His stubble grazes against my skin, but I don’t care. I slide my tongue across his lips and part mine, for him to enter. Our breath mingles, warm and enticing, and when Mark’s hand clutches the back of my neck to pull me closer, I nearlymelt.

God, I want him. I want him with every fiber of my being. He gently releases my neck, an impending sign that this kiss is coming to an end.

And then, as quickly as it began, the moment ends. I pull back, my cheeks flushed, my heart pounding in my chest. “I'm sorry,” I stammer, suddenly self-conscious. “I don't know what came over me.”

Mark's eyes darken, and his gaze is intense and focused solely on me. “Don't be,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with emotion. I'm not.”

And then his lips are on mine again, his kiss deep and hungry, filled with a passion that steals my breath away. I melt into him, my fingers tangling in his hair, my body molding against his as if we were made for each other.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathless, our chests heaving. Mark's eyes are hooded, his expression unreadable. “We should go,” he says, his voice thick with desire. “Back home.”

“Yes,” I say, without skipping a beat. This time around, I want to get home as fast as I possibly can.

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