Page 53 of Broken Sins (Volkov Bratva 3)

He waves a hand towards the bathroom. “The process.”

“You want to watch me shower?” I ask in disbelief.

“Want has little to do with it, darling,” he says drily. I’m not sure he’s fully telling me the truth. His eyes rake up and down me. “Though I won’t stop myself from enjoying it if the mood should strike. I am merely acting on my brother’s orders.”

“Vito told you to watch me shower?” I’ve seen enough of the brothers’ dynamic to know which one fancies himself the leader. Still, something about Vito doesn’t quite add up for me yet.

Leo rolls his eyes. “Dante said you were an inquisitive one. I see now that he was spot on.”

I still can’t quite wrap my head around this. I know that’s stupid. They stripped me naked and cuffed me to a metal table. After that, why does watching me shower seem like something even more invasive?

I don’t know why I feel that way, but I do. Maybe it’s because I always loved showers. I used to take long ones, back in my pre-dungeon life. Long, luxurious, self-indulgent showers. I’d sit, stand, lie down, sing, dance, wash my hair and scrub my skin a dozen times. I loved feeling warm, enveloped in steam, and then the coolness of the outside air like a fresh breeze taking you over once the water was shut off.

Now, thinking of that cozy interplay of hot and cold air just reminds me of my dream, the one that takes place in this very room. Of the silk bathrobe slipping from my shoulders. Of the four brothers consuming me, devouring me, claiming …

“Fine,” I snap. “What the hell do I care anymore?”

Leo raises an eyebrow but says nothing. We have a brief staring contest before I scowl again, shrug, and toss the blanket to the side as I stride away from him towards the bathroom. I can feel his eyes on me while I walk. They’re searing into me, like he’s memorizing every curve of my body.

I try to ignore him as I move from the carpeted bedroom onto the cold marble of the bathroom floor. The shower comes to life in a smooth stream of water that steams almost instantly. I stick my hand under the flow and gasp out loud.

It’s incredible, but just like my first steps into the room, it’s too much. I have to close my eyes and breathe. Otherwise, I’m going to black out. Finally, I get control of myself again.

I wonder idly if they’re going to kill me here in the bathroom. For easy cleanup, or something like that. But as I step under the showerhead, I see that Leo hasn’t moved. He’s still standing against the wall just inside the door, eyeing me carefully.

There are bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and face wash waiting for me. I try not to focus on the fact that they’re all my preferred brands. The implications of that—that someone was watching my apartment or has been there since my capture—are too much. For right now, I just want to enjoy the shower. The horrors of my future can wait until the hot water runs out at the very least.

But it’s hard to relax. Every time I try to lose myself in the blissful heat of the shower, I feel Leo staring at me and I can’t help but look to see if that’s still the case. It always is. He doesn’t move for the entire twenty or thirty or forty or however many minutes. I try not to care.Let him wait,I tell myself.Take your moments of perfect while you still can.

Finally, though, I’m pruning up and damn near sweating from how hot I have the water cranked. I kill the flow reluctantly and look at my feet to watch the suds swirl away down the drain. I want it back at once.

I have a memory—not even a fully-formed one, just a kind of brief flash, verging on deja vu—of my mother setting me on the edge of the bathtub after a shower to comb out the tangles in my hair. I feel the ghost of her fingers and the burls of the brush. “So tender-headed,” she told me. She wasn’t wrong. I always had to yell at her to be more gentle. She’d tell me to toughen up, but she also softened her touch at once. Her bark was always worse than her bite, my mom’s. Though I would hate to see how hard she would bite if she could get near the men who have stolen me away.

I wonder again what my parents are doing right now. Surely by this point, they’re aware that something has happened. I’ve missed a week of classes. Anton and Matvei haven’t reported back to whichever chief goon is in charge of my security detail …

But do they have any leads? Are they anywhere close to figuring out where I’ve gone? I suppose it doesn’t matter. I gave up hope of being rescued a long time ago. I have only myself to rely on.

“Here.” I look up in shock, lost in thought, to see Leo standing in front of me with a towel in his grasp.

It takes me a second to find my voice. “Thanks,” I murmur. I feel shame blush in my cheeks suddenly and I look back down at my feet.

Just a few minutes ago, when I was a dirty little dungeon rat, I didn’t care about being naked in front of this dark, sexy, mysterious man. Hell, I even ditched that nasty blanket on the ground and strolled butt-naked into the bathroom for all the world to see. But now that I’m clean from the shower, I feelespeciallynaked.

Leo’s eyes don’t help. They aren’t even slightly interested in protecting my modesty. Instead, they roam up and down my body, drinking me in like a fine wine. I don’t know what it is about his face that says he’s savoring me, but I know for a fact that he is. He doesn’t miss a single detail. Not the birthmark on the left side of my rib cage or the scar on my knee from falling down a steep sidewalk when I was eleven. Not my too-small B-cup breasts or the freckle in the dead center of my bottom lip.

He seesallof me.

I reach out to take the towel to wrap myself up so I can feel like there is at least something these men haven’t yet stolen from me. But before I can get it, he jerks his hand back, leaving me grasping at air.

“What are you, six years old?” I snap. “Give me the towel.”

“No, darling,” he demurs. “I changed my mind. Come here.” He lets the towel unfold and hang in the air to his side like a bullfighter’s cape.

“Not a chance.” I cross my arms over my chest and fix him with an icy glare.

He just smiles. “Normally, I would tell you that it is unwise to refuse a man like me. Under the circumstances, I think I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and tell you once more: come here.” He flicks his wrist so the towel flops in place, then looks at me again.

“Or what?”

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