Page 69 of Bratva Prisoner
“Don’t,” I warn, recognizing the matchmaking gleam in my brother’s eyes.
“Don’t what?”
“Whatever you’re thinking. Don’t.”
“I’m not thinking about anything. Just observing that she fits in remarkably well for someone who supposedly isn’t family.”
Dmitri appears beside us with a smirk. “Are we discussing Maksim’s denial about his feelings for the woman currently being used as a human jungle gym?”
“I don’t have feelings,” I lie automatically.
“Right,” Grigor responds, materializing on my other side like brothers have a supernatural ability to do. “That’s why you’ve been watching her like she might disappear if you look away.”
“And why you get that dopey smile every time she laughs,” Akim adds, because apparently this is now a group intervention.
“I don’t get dopey,” I protest.
“You absolutely get dopey,” Nikolai confirms as he rounds out the circle of meddling siblings. “It’s actually kind of endearing.”
“You’re all imagining things.”
“I don’t know,” Aleksei challenges. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re in love with her.”
The word is like a bucket of cold water, even though I’ve been dancing around it in my mind for days. Love. Is that what this is? This overwhelming need to protect her, to make her happy, to ensure she never wants for anything again?
“Even if I were,” I carefully reply, “it doesn’t matter. She’s been through enough trauma with controlling men. The last thing she needs is me pushing her into something she’s not ready for.”
“Who says you’d be pushing?” Dmitri asks. “Maybe she’s ready for exactly what you want to give her.”
“Look at her, Maksim,” Aleksei prompts. “Really look at her. Does that look like a woman who’s here out of obligation?”
I follow his line of sight to where Alyssa is now lying on the floor, letting all three kids climb over her like she’s playground equipment. She’s laughing at something Sofia whispered in her ear, her face bright with genuine joy.
“She looks like she’s home,” Grigor observes.
He’s right. She does look at home. In fact, she looks more comfortable and relaxed than I’ve ever seen her. The guarded woman who used to flinch at unexpected sounds has been replaced by someone who glows with contentment.
“What if she decides she wants to leave after this situation with Troy is resolved?” I ask, voicing the fear that keeps meawake at night. “What if she realizes she doesn’t actually want this life?”
“Then you let her go,” Aleksei states simply. “But you don’t make that decision for her. You give her the choice.”
“And if she chooses to stay?”
“Then you thank whatever gods you believe in and spend the rest of your life making sure she never regrets it.”
The conversation is interrupted by Anya tugging on my pant leg. “Uncle Maksim, Alyssa says she knows how to climb really high things. Can she climb the big tree in the garden?”
“Can she?” I ask, grinning down at my niece.
“Oh yes,” Alyssa calls from her position on the floor. “I’m an excellent climber.”
“Show us!” all three kids demand in unison.
As we move toward the garden, my brothers’ words echo in my head. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’ve been so focused on protecting Alyssa from another controlling relationship that I’ve failed to see what she actually wants.
Maybe what she wants is exactly what I’m too afraid to offer.
Watching her boost little Anya up to the first branch of the oak tree while the other kids cheer her on, I realize that the thought of her leaving doesn’t just fill me with misery—it fills me with determination to ensure she never wants to.
