Page 5 of Shattered Cradle (Makarova Bratva Duet)

“The uniforms are a little on the nose, don’t you think?”

He laughs. “Conspicuous is kind of my style.”

I’m still not sure why Rob completely trusts the man, but I can at least understand why he likes him. Despite his larger-than-life persona, Hargrove has this way of talking that makes you forget the fact that he’s worth billions of dollars.

“Would you like something to eat or drink, Olivia?”

I shake my head, despite the ravenous growling in my belly. “I’m good. I think I just need to rest.”

“Of course,” he croons. “You’ll have everything you need in your private suite.”

“My private suite?” I repeat stupidly. “Um… I really don’t think that will be necessary. I mean, it’s generous of you. But we have a home.”

“I understand your hesitation, Olivia,” he says, addressing me like we’re old friends. “But the Bratva knows where that house is located. It would be too risky to go back there. It’s the reason your family has been living here for the last six weeks.”

“Six weeks?” I ask, turning to Rob.

He nods, confirming it. I’m not quite sure how I feel about it at first, but then I realize I don’t really have the right to have an opinion.

Being taken hostage by Aleks must have absolutely shattered their sense of security. Living in this beautiful building, sixty stories above the city and surrounded by scary-looking security, had to have been a godsend.

“That… that’s very kind of you, Mr. Hargrove.”

“None of that, now!” he chuckles. “Call me Donnie, please. Or Donald, if you must.”

“Donald it is,” I mumble.

He smiles, but I can tell he’s searching my face for something. It takes me a second to put my finger on it.

Trauma.That’s what he’s looking for. Signs of scarring. The damage left behind from being abducted by a dangerous man.

But clearly, I’m disappointing him. Not nearly as broken as he hoped for, I guess.

“Before I let you go, however, would you mind if I asked you something?”

I tense. “Um… sure. Go ahead.”

“Are youokay?” he asks, emphasizing the word. He blinks slowly, sincerely, with a look in his eyes like he truly cares. His hand is warm and heavy on my shoulder and the faint scent of a pleasant cologne wafts into my nostrils.

It would be so easy to tell him no. To admit the truth of what’s happened to me.

But I’ve spent three months denying it, hiding it, running from it. It’s become second nature.

I’m not sure I know how to stop.

“Oh, yeah. Yes, I’m okay.”

He straightens and frowns for a moment. He didn’t expect me to say that, I think. Just like he didn’t expect me to seem undamaged. “If I may ask, how did you manage to get away?”

Realizing that I don’t want to give Yulia away—God knows why, but I don’t—I give him a vague answer. “I had some inside help.”

Donald nods. “It's good to know that his people aren’t completely loyal to him.”

“No, they are,” I correct. “But it’s just… it’s complicated.”

Rob steps forward. “We’re going to need information from you, Liv. We need to know anything you can tell us about Makarova and his—”

“Robbie,” Donald interrupts gently, “the poor girl’s just gotten her freedom back. Maybe we should let her enjoy that for a minute before we inundate her with questions.”

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