Page 54 of Daddy Brigadier

Curious glances are exchanged among the gathering of onlookers. Even the guys tucked away at a blackjack table in the back corner pause to watch the show.

Valentin strides forward with a commanding confidence and undeniable arrogance, qualities that come naturally to the Brigadier. Brandishing a thick stack of cash, he raises it high andhands it to the bartender. “Drinks are on me for the rest of the evening!”

The crowd burst into cheers, quickly pushing aside any lingering tension as they flock to the bar, eager to order the most expensive drinks.

I pull Ruby into a tight embrace, my hand gently resting on the back of her neck. “You should go home now.”

She swallows hard, nodding as she wraps her arms around me, holding on tightly, her gaze fixed on Valentin. “Okay.”

One of the bartenders guides Ruby by the arm. “I’ll take her home.”

“Thank you.” My eyes follow them as they exit through the back door.

As Ruby fades from view and the crowd resumes their drinking and gambling, I redirect my attention to Valentin. “What are you doing here?” I hate how seeing him again makes my pulse race.

He pauses before responding, then gestures to his security guard, who strides over with a beautiful bouquet of red roses in hand. I take the flowers from Valentin, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “You know you could have had these delivered,” I whisper, wanting to keep our exchange just between us.

“And miss my girl’s big night?” he says, flashing a smile that leaves me both excited and breathless.

I guide him into my office, away from the bustling casino floor. His men fan out around the building, skillfully keeping watch on the Brigadier without following.

As the door closes behind us, my heart races with anticipation. I stand before him, fully aware that he’s probably pissed at me.

Valentin strides past me, his gaze fixed on the cardroom through the one-way mirror.

The look of admiration on his face brings me a sense of joy that’s oddly satisfying, like a father beaming with pride for his daughter. “Congratulations,” he says with interest, moving to my desk to check the surveillance monitors.

I place the flowers on the table. “Thank you. It’s small, but it’s a start.”

“Everyone starts somewhere.”

Valentin tilts his head toward me, his nostrils flaring as he struggles to maintain his composure for just a moment. His fingers twitch before he suddenly grips me, pinning me against the desk. His gaze is piercing, like cold steel. “Did you think you could run from me, Krasotka?”

The air between us resonates, heavy with unspoken emotions, making it almost unbearable. He takes a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to regain his composure. “What do I need to do, Krasotka, to win your heart?”

The silence lingers as I ponder his heartfelt question. Do I have his heart? I thought I was only a plaything for him.

I long to shout, " I think I love you!” Instead, I settle for a polite smile, trapping those feelings inside.

Sensing my uncertainty, he edges closer, his lips a breath away from mine. “Kiss me, Lexi,” he whispers. This time, he’s not commanding.

I lift my chin, feeling the intensity of his gaze upon mine. My heart races as I part my pink lips.

In a swift motion, he grips hold of my hips, the pressure forcing a gasp to escape me.

“Lexi.” The way he says my name feels intimate, as if it was always destined for him to say. His thumb gently tugs at my bottom lip, and the shimmer of his golden ring catches my eye, causing my breath to catch in my throat.

His jaw tightens, and his dark, reckless eyes lock onto the ring, the same one I can’t take my gaze off. He pulls his hand back, raising it high. “Did Petrov wear this ring that night?”

His question cuts me deeply, like a knife—painful and sickening. I recall my eyes landing on the ring, instantly recognizing my perpetrator. Bratva. The ring is a reminder of those words that haunt me: “I know who you are.”

“This ring is Bratva. I’ve worn it for thirty years.” He kisses it. “It’s part of who I am.”

He leans in closer, his bottom lip gently grazing the tip of my nose. “You belong to me, Krasotka, and I protect what is mine.”

He slides the ring off his finger, the cool metal catching the light as he holds it out to me. I take it with trembling fingers, tightly clenching it in my palm.

“I promise Petrov dies for what he did to you.” His voice is gritty and strained, yet the certainty behind his words is unmistakable.