Page 20 of Innocently Captured By the Bratva

Her eyes narrow. “And in return? What was it you had to gain from it?”

I give her a mischievous grin. “In exchange, you’ll act as my fiancée in public. Join me at events, smile for the cameras, and make it seem like we're madly in love. This will not only keep Charlie off your back and protect you from him, but it’ll also make me look good in his eyes. I need to maintain a certain image, you see. Especially around men like Charlie Letvin.”

“Your rival,” she states. I incline my head in confirmation.

“Precisely. With a beautiful, successful woman like you on my arm, it will show him his place. Charlie won't be able to touch me,nor you. It’ll hit him where it hurts, bruise his pride, make him weak. What Charlie Letvin hates most is not getting what he wants.”

“Me,” she states, simply.

“Precisely.”

Quinn takes a long sip of her drink, considering. “So you’re asking me to pretend to be your arm candy, a prisoner of sorts.”

I chuckle. “Hardly a prisoner. You'll have the freedom to conduct your business, to come and go as you please. Within reason, of course. You'll have a bodyguard with you at all times for your safety.”

“A bodyguard?” She frowns.

“Just until Charlie buys our act. Then, in time, he’s bound to find someone else to dally with and forget all about you. Until then, you are to live with me.”

“You’re joking!” she protests. “I’m to reside here?”

“Naturally. We must keep up appearances, and besides, it’s safer this way.” I drain my glass and set it aside. “Do we have a deal?”

Quinn stands, slowly approaching me. The sway of her hips is hypnotic. She stops mere inches from me, close enough that I can smell her perfume and feel the heat of her body.

“Once we’re back in here, the act dies out. This is only a business arrangement, you understand?” she says, looking up at me through her lashes.

I nod.

“Yes,” she says breathily. “We have a deal.”

I let my gaze wander over her, enjoying the view of her, this captivating creature who has fascinated me so completely.

“Excellent. I look forward to this partnership, Miss Desmond.”

Her smile is razor-sharp. “As do I, Mr. Zolotov. As do I.”

Something tells me that our little arrangement is going to be far more interesting than either of us anticipated. Quinn is no blushing flower. She's a wildfire, and I have every intention of letting her consume me.

Chapter 9 - Quinn

I'm curled up on the living room sofa, engrossed in the latest thriller novel, when the doorbell chimes, echoing through the house. Curious, I set my book aside and sit up straighter, my ears perked. The click of the maid's heels on the hardwood floor is followed by the creak of the front door opening. Muffled voices drift down the hallway—one is a woman's, light and friendly.

Intrigued, I swing my legs off the sofa and smooth my skirt just as footsteps approach the living room archway. A striking woman with long silky black hair and sharp black eyes enters, a warm smile on her pink lips.

“You must be Quinn!” she exclaims, breezing into the room. “I'm Lara, Mark's sister. It's so lovely to finally meet you.”

I stand quickly, taken aback by her genuine friendliness. Gathering my wits, I return her smile and extend a hand. “Lara! Hi. I’m afraid Mark isn’t home.”

She grips my hand tightly, her smile growing. “Oh, that’s too bad. When Vladimir told me about your engagement to my brother, I just had to come see him and figure all of this out. I can’t believe I’ve never met you! Congratulations on finally tying him down. I hope I’m not bothering you.”

Her eyes, so unlike Mark's, twinkle with joy and warmth. Maybe the Zolotovs aren't all stone-cold criminals.

“Not at all,” I assure her, gesturing to the sofa. “Can I get you anything? Coffee, perhaps? I was just about to make myself a cup.”

Lara nods eagerly. “Coffee would be wonderful, thank you. Black, please—I like my coffee as dark as my soul,” she jokes with a wink.

I laugh, deciding I like Mark's sister already, feeling some of the tension melt from my shoulders. “Two black coffees are coming right up. Make yourself at home, and I'll be right back,” I tell her breezily, heading for the kitchen.

---