Page 13 of Bought By the Masked BRATVA
“What did you find?”
“Enough to know you were telling the truth,” I say, my voice low. “And enough to know the worst is yet to come.”
Her eyes meet mine, clearer now, sharper. “Then I guess I really did do the right thing. With the auction I mean. Selling myself to the Bratva.”
“I need details from you,” I say, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “I have a few contacts who can leak the real files, the truth, clear your name. But you are now part of the Bratva too. You can’t ever go back to that life.”
Her lips part like she wants to argue, but I don’t give her the chance. I lean in, closing the space between us, catching her mouth in a kiss that’s nothing like before. This is slower, deeper, threaded with the weight of everything we now know.
She kisses me back, soft at first, then with a quiet desperation that feels like surrender and defiance at once.
When she pulls away, her breath catches, and she looks at me like she’s trying to memorize something she shouldn’t.
“Go back to sleep,” I whisper. “You’re safe now.”
She hesitates, searching my face as if to decide whether she believes me. Then, finally, she nods and lies back down. Her hand finds mine beneath the sheets.
I stay there beside her, the city pulsing quietly below us, her warmth anchoring me in a way that feels dangerously close to belonging.
When she drifts off again, I lean in, pressing one last kiss to her temple.
Tomorrow, I’ll start putting the pieces together.
Tomorrow, I’ll decide what to do with the truth.
But tonight, as she sleeps in my bed with her mask gone and her secrets laid bare, I know one thing for certain.
I’ve already chosen a side.
Grace
Morning light spills through the floor-to-ceiling glass, pale and clean. For a moment I lie still, blinking against it, unsure where I am. The sheets smell like him, and when I move, I realise the scent of him clings to my skin, too.
Then it all comes back. The ballroom. The bidding. His hands. The masks.
I push myself upright, clutching the sheet around me, the cool air licking at my bare shoulders. Liam Orlov. The name sounds dangerous even in my head. I glance across the room; the space is empty, the faint sound of running water drifting from the bathroom.
He’s still here. I don’t know why he wouldn’t be. It’s his suite after all. But still. The thought steadies me and unnerves me in equal measure.
I slide out of bed, padding across the carpet, catching my reflection in the glass. My hair is a pale tangle, my lips still swollen, my body marked by the memory of him. The old Grace would be horrified. The new one just stares, a small, crooked smile pulling at her mouth.
The sound of the shower deepens, a steady rhythm behind the door. Steam curls out from the small gap where it doesn’t quite close. I hesitate only a second before stepping closer, drawn bythe warmth, by the simple normalcy of water and silence after so much chaos.
I twist the handle and step inside.
He turns when he hears me, water streaming down his chest, slicking his dark hair back. For a heartbeat, neither of us speaks. The air between us thickens, charged, the spray pattering against his skin like a pulse.
His gaze trails down me, unhurried, deliberate. He lingers at the patch of dark hair between my legs and licks his lips. “Couldn’t stay away?”
I meet his eyes, stepping into the shower and joining him. The water runs through my hair, over my face, my shoulders. “Maybe I just didn’t want to face the world yet,” I say when I open my eyes again.
“Then don’t.”
He reaches for me, and when his hands find my waist, everything else dissolves, the city, the scandal, the questions waiting outside this room.
The rest is heat and water and the kind of closeness that makes time irrelevant.
The water cascades over us, hot and relentless, turning the world into a steamy haze that blurs everything except him. Liam's hands slide up my sides, pulling me closer until our bodies press together, slick and warm. I feel his arousal against my thigh, hard and insistent. A thrill runs through me, mixing with the lingering ache from last night. I tilt my head back, letting the spray hit my face, but my eyes stay on his, watching the way desire darkens his gaze.
