Page 50 of The Bratva’s Captive Flame

"Dinner." He pulls out the chair to his right, and says, "Sit with me. Danya's made too much food for one man, and I'd like to share this time with you."

Sighing and remembering the way my father looked at me just moments ago, I walk over and take the seat he pulled out for me. He pours the wine and settles into his own chair, closer than the long table requires. But he doesn't push for conversation. He takes a bite of his food, and I uncover my plate to find roast meat and vegetables.

As delicious as they smell, I'm finding myself not as hungry as I ought to be. "You're different tonight," I say finally, wanting to know what this is all about.

"Well, it's been a different week." He wipes his mouth and sets his fork down. "Someone put a bomb under my vehicle… and well, that does things to a man."

The fork stops halfway to my mouth. "You were—someone tried to kill you?" My hand slowly lowers back to my plate as shock washes over me. This is getting too dangerous. Attacks at his businesses are one thing, but car bombs? That's personal.

"I'm safe, Milaya. They weren't successful, but it suddenly has me reassessing my priorities." Demin takes another bite like this is just news to be shared and not something to freak out about.

"Are you hurt?" My gut twists and I feel fear rising up. I see the scrape on his forehead, and a bruise beneath it, but he’s got a dangerous life. How was I supposed to know that was from a car bomb?

"A cut on my head. Bruised ribs. Nothing critical." He waves it off, but I see the somber expression. It has him rethinking his life, which means it scared him.

"Demin, this is serious. I⁠—"

He reaches over and takes my hand, locking eyes with me. "I know, Milaya. I know how serious this is and I know what is at stake. I could lose everything in Berlin."

My eyes well up at the idea that he could’ve died today and I'd never have been able to say goodbye. I squeeze his hand and say, "This is my fault."

"No," he says firmly, pursing his lips. "This was my choice. I chose to take Octavio out of that compound and they are rebelling against me. This is not your doing."

"But my father⁠—"

"Is a treasure in my home and I'd do it again tomorrow if it meant having you."

His words shock me, especially as he lifts my hand and kisses my knuckle. "What?" I'm speechless, listening to this man say he'd take these risks again all for me. How can my father not see how real Demin is, how honest he's being?

"I don't feel it's right to keep living my life as a single man when I have a perfectly good partner who should know the truth." His words are rigid, not full of emotion, and he sets my hand down and continues eating matter-of-factly. But I sense deep emotion under the surface he might not be able to articulate.

This man cares about me, deeply. And I'm finding that I feel the same way. I love him. I want to be with him, and I'm scared that if he goes out that door again, one day, he won't come back to me.

"Thank you… for telling me." I don't know how to respond. Now isn't the time to blurt out my revelation that I love him, at least not after the day he's had. I don't want him to think this is a hasty reaction to a scary moment.

When I tell him how I feel, I want him to know I've thought it through and that I choose him.

"Eat," he says sternly. "You need nourishment. We have an empire to run."

I duck my head as I pick my fork back up and stab a carrot, bringing the savory morsel to my mouth to enjoy the flavors. But I blink back happy tears that want to flow so he doesn't think I'm crying in fear or sorrow.

Papa is wrong. Demin is a good man, and he will prove it to my father soon enough. And when he does, I will finally have my dreams come true and my prayers answered.

I just hope this war doesn't escalate any further and take from me what I’ve just found.

26

DEMIN

Once the last of my men files out I lock the door behind them. In the time we've spent here in Berlin, I haven't locked this door once—not even when I took Isabela on my desk. But the only man I trust fully now is Mishka, and only because no one would be foolish enough to blow himself up knowing he'll never get to receive any of the benefits. But he has to keep an eye on the others for me.

This job must be done alone.

I slink to my desk and sit down, easing into the chair to help stave off the worst of the pain from the bruising. Taking a beating like that means I can't sit right, can't lie down, and when I try to relax, the ache throbs all the way to the bone. The man who did this to me deserves equally as brutal punishment, but he will receive worse, as soon as I have confirmation of who he is.

The vodka pours smoothly into the glass tumbler as I pull out my tablet and swipe to unlock the screen. Sebastian is awaiting a report on how Cruz is doing in my basement, and he's not going to like what I have to add into that report. Things have escalated beyond our average intel leak. This situation has become deep betrayal, one that must be recompensed immediately.

The screen flashes to life and his face appears as the call dials through, surrounded by a blue flashing ring that glows and pulses. When the call connects, it goes black for a second before Sebastian appears in the flesh, smoking a cigar.