Page 29 of The Bratva’s Captive Flame

When he comes in, he undresses without a word. The bandage is gone from his side now and the wound has closed to a thin line. I notice it as he climbs into bed and pulls the sheet up over us. But there's tension in him tonight, the same one that's hung on him all week, anger that I still haven't done the thing he needs me to do.

As he pulls me against his chest, I think about telling him what that large ogre of a man said to me, the way he touched me. But nothing really happened, did it? And if I just tattle on a man who's done nothing wrong, what does that make me? I don't want to start trouble. Hell, I don't know if it would even make Demin blink twice. But I don’t want to be harassed by that asshole again.

Still, he seems frustrated as it is, and if I instigate a bickering match over a non-thing, I'd just be making it worse for myself. But I'm not ready to sleep. I can't shut my brain down. I want to talk to him and see if he meant what he said at dinner the other night.

"My father thinks your threats are real… That you'll actually hurt me." Turning, I face him and splay a hand on his chest where his heart pounds. Demin says nothing to me, but he looks me dead in the eye. "Is he right?" I ask cautiously. "Would you actually do that to me?" When he threatened me I fully believed him, but he hasn't done a single thing to hurt me. If he was going to make good on those threats, I think he'd have done it before.

"Go to sleep, Isabela," he mumbles, pulling me tighter.

"No… I need to know, Demin. Why are you so kind and gentle to me if you might actually hurt me?" I lie there staring at the ceiling until he flicks off the light and grumbles something I can't understand. "Hmm?" I say, hoping it's an answer.

"I said, I have to get up early. So go to sleep. Don't worry about it right now."

Scowling, I turn back to facing away from him and wrap my hand around his wrist, which nestles between my boobs. I don't even know what to believe anymore, though one thing is for certain. I won't be sneaking away from this place any time soon. He tracks every step I take.

But if there is a way out, I will find it… Unless Mr. Demin Roshin convinces me there's some other reason to stay.

The idea of being in his arms every night is growing on me. I don't think I'd mind being with a man other men fear. It's some added layer of security I didn't realize might feel good.

And it's that thought that lingers in my mind as I drift off to sleep.

16

DEMIN

With everything that's happened, I'm not sure waiting to inform my uncle about the situation has been a good thing. I've busied myself with work and giving Sergei orders, but it's time Sebastian knows the fullest extent of what's going on. This is his family to command, and I've kept him in the dark long enough.

So I sit behind my desk and dial his number, not really ready for the shitstorm he might unleash on me in the way of new directives and lectures. When he answers, he's all business.

"Tell me we're moving," he says, and it sounds like he's moving, traffic noise behind him.

"We're moving, Seb. The lab's finished. In three days, your chemist will be at that bench whether he wants to be or not." This obviously isn't the part I want to relay to him, but it's important business, nonetheless. I'm here because he sent me to do a job, not because I'm doing my own thing. I am an extension of the Roshin name and nothing more. To him, this is essential.

"Good," he hums and then sighs hard. "And the other thing? You’re handling the night that went wrong?" My eyes drift upward toward the window and I focus on the tree outside that dances in the breeze.

"Handled, or being handled." I don't know how much to tell him. I know he's not a fan of Sergei, but I can't do this on my own. "I brought in outside help and he's good. He's running it quietly. If there's a mole in the house, he'll find it without spooking whoever it is."

"Outside?" Judging by his tone of voice, Sebastian doesn't love the choice, and I didn't expect him to. "Who?" But even my uncle is smart enough to know when my hands are tied and I have to make a move. Sometimes you just don't get a choice.

"Better you don't have the name. That's the point of an outsider." I pause for a second, hoping he trusts me enough not to pressure me, then say, "You trust me to clean my own house, or you don't."

"I trust you," he says cautiously. "But understand me, Demin. A leak bleeds outward. Today it's a raid. Tomorrow it's a shipment, a meeting, a man's address." Pausing for emphasis, he adds, "One day, it could be your head. That's how these things go."

"That's why he's here, Boss." So he isn't going to pry in on my choices, which is good, but he is still leery about this. He's probably right to be. He’s had more than one occurrence where someone tried to take him out.

"Then let him work…" The road noise gets quite loud for a second before he says, "And three days? That's good…"

"Three days."

"Make it happen," he grunts. "Stay in touch." He hangs up, on to whatever other pressing matters he has to deal with today, and I rise from my chair, ready to move on with things. The hardest part of my day is over and right now, I need a moment of stress relief.

I walk to the terrace overlooking the gardens with a view of Berlin that's unrivaled. I have so much on my mind, it's hard to calm myself and get my brain to settle. The only time in the past three weeks I felt capable of rational thought was the night of that raid, immediately after I had Isabela in the shower.

My hand slides into my pocket and I pull out my phone, texting Mishka to bring her here to me. He responds that he's on the way, and I put the phone back.

She's become addictive, like a sweet drug my body craves. I can't seem to get her out of my head, and right now, my body is screaming to have her again. Though, I'd never force her to do it and expect her to be anything other than a whore to me from then on. And she's not that.

Any woman with a loyalty to family as deep as hers runs is worth having a second look at. So when Mishka lets her out onto the roof and she walks cautiously toward the table, I turn and study her.