Page 123 of Shattered Altar (Makarova Bratva Duet)

“No. I proved that a long time ago.”

Acting impulsively, I snatch Aleks’s glass of wine from in front of him and steal a sip. The taste is bitter at first, but the longer it sits on my tongue, the smoother and sweeter it gets.

“Wow,” I murmur when I set it back down.

“Good, isn’t it?”

“Yeah!” I say over-enthusiastically. “Amazing. So subtle. Did you pick up on the notes of grape?”

Aleks rolls his eyes at my bratty act of sarcasm and lets loose a long-suffering sigh. “You don’t drink because you’re afraid of what might happen if you let go. But you can’t live in fear, Olivia,” he says. “Venturing beyond the safe and comfortable is how you learn what you’re truly made of. Risks make life worth living.”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Again, very philosophical. But I’m not quite sure I get the point you’re trying to make.”

“Imagine my surprise.”

He’s watching me with careful eyes. I wish I could read him as easily as he seems to be able to read me.

But so far, I feel… good? At least, I think I do. For the most part, I feel like I’m doing a solid job keeping my nerves at bay. The clumsiness from earlier… well, that’s par for the course in OliviaLand, so it works.

Our conversation lulls for a moment while the waiters bring out the food. The first course is a tomato chili soup infused with a creamy garlic oil. Beside it, they place a fennel and crab salad garnished with lemon juice and thin slices of sweet orange. The smell alone is borderline erotic.

The servers bow and disappear back into the kitchen. Aleks folds his hands and looks at me. “Did you get the supplies I sent up?”

“I did,” I say, spooning some soup into my mouth. Holy shit, this is amazing. I school my face into a neutral expression. Give nothing away. Keep your guard up. “Thank you. I didn’t expect a gift.”

He smiles pleasantly. “Had to save my walls.”

“I would apologize,” I reply, “but you deserve it, and honestly, it’s an improvement. This place is decorated like a morgue. You do know that there are colors in the universe besides black and gray, right?”

He chuckles but makes no move to reply as he tastes the soup for himself. I’m over here struggling to control the orgasm in my mouth, but Aleks takes it all in completely stone-faced, like having Michelin-starred food at a spur-of-the-moment dinner is no big deal.

The crab is as delicious as the soup. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy every bite. Prisoners don’t normally eat this good.

But that thought brings nothing but guilt. I’m here, getting literally wined-and-dined. As for my family…

Where are they? What are they doing? Are they okay, safe, afraid?

I don’t have any of the answers.

“You okay?”

I blink. “Sorry?”

“You were just talking to yourself,” Aleks explains. “Muttering.”

I know he’s not lying. After Mia left for college, I’d talk to myself, pretending I was talking to her instead. Somehow, the habit stuck.

“Nope, I was not. You must have misheard.”

“You were. Sounded like a serious discussion.”

“Are you feeling alright?” I ask. “I think you’re starting to imagine things.”

He hums, a low, rumbly sound that reverberates through me. His eyes never leave my face. “As you wish. I’ll play along.”

He smiles again. Pleasant, beautiful, no chinks in his armor. This whole dinner feels almost… normal. Like a date.

Not that I have the most experience in that department. I meet his eyes and my stomach flutters. Damn you, butterflies.

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