Page 32 of The Bratva’s Captive Flame

"I want to see my father," I tell him.

He glances back into the dim room again, weighing whether waking the boss is worth it, and then he decides it isn't. "Come on, then," he says, and he walks me down.

The house is quiet this early, most of it still asleep. Our footsteps are the only sounds on the stairs. I keep my arms crossed and my head down and rehearse what I'm going to tell my father, how to make him understand without frightening him so badly that he does something reckless. We're nearly to the hall that leads out toward the medical wing when a voice stops both of us cold.

"You're up early."

Sergei steps out of a doorway like he's been waiting, a tablet in one hand. He looks at me first with his beady dark eyes, and then he looks at Bart. "I've got her," he says. "I'm headed that way regardless. Checking the locks on the wing. Go on back to your post."

Bart hesitates and scowls at the larger man as I cringe and take a step backward. Something in him doesn't like it, probably the same thing in me that just went tight, but Sergei outranks him now and runs the security he answers to, so an order is an order.

"I, uh… Bart can walk me," I mutter. "Your job is important. You shouldn’t deviate." But all the reasoning in the world won't change Sergei's mind.

Bart gives me one uncertain glance and then turns and goes back the way we came, and I watch the last safe thing in this hallway walk away from me. My blood turns to ice as I look up at the hulking man standing over me with lust in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.

"After you," Sergei says, sweeping a hand toward the corridor.

I don't have a choice now. Getting to Papa is more important than ever, so I walk, and he falls in behind me. It terrifies me how alone I am with this man who could snap me in two with one hand.

"You and the boss had a late night," he says in a conversational tone. "These walls are thinner than he thinks. A man does his rounds, a man hears things."

My face goes hot, cheeks burning with that insinuation. The fact that this fucker was listening to me and Demin is disgusting. "That's none of your business."

"Oh, I heard plenty. You're loud when somebody finally gets it right." He chuckles and it makes goosebumps rise on my flesh. "Bet you'd be louder for a man who actually took his time with you."

"Don't—" My throat constricts as he cuts me off, and I feel my belly flip.

"Don't what?" He sounds amused. "I'm paying you a compliment." I feel his hand flip the back of my blouse, exposing my skin, and I take two stutter steps to get away from him.

"I told you to stop." The way my body feels right now, I'd never fight him off. Demin really took it out on me last night, and it hurt to pee when I woke around one. I can't imagine even thinking about letting someone touch me right now.

We reach the end of the hall where my father's locked door sits just a few feet ahead, and Sergei moves quicker than a man his size should be able to. He steps around me and puts his back to that door, blocking it, and I have to stop short to keep from walking into his chest.

"Move."

"In a minute." He looks down at me, taking his time, his eyes dragging the length of me and back up. "We're having a conversation. You and me, we never get a minute alone. But now here we are." He spreads his hands. "Alone at last."

"Get away from the door." My heart is pounding harder now, eyes darting around, hoping to find a way out. If I run, he'll give chase and just tell anyone who catches us I’m trying to escape. Demin will believe him, and then what?

"Here's what I keep thinking about." He leans forward, snatching me around the waist and pulling me closer. I push back but he is strong. "A girl like you, wasted on a man who doesn't appreciate her. You know what I'd do if you were mine? I'd start by stretching that pussy of yours 'til it gaped and then make your ass match. And when you gagged on my dick and your eyes watered, you'd thank me for it."

His hand slides up under my shirt, groping my breast as I whimper in fear and push harder, trying to get away. My whole body goes cold and rigid.

"You're sick." I can barely get the words out. "You're disgusting. Get away from me⁠—"

"There she is." He grins. "Knew the fire was in there somewhere. Go on. Hit me. I like it when they hit me."

I freeze for one more second, locked up with the horror of it. But somehow, I manage to shove him with both hands flat against his chest. It barely moves him so I slap him across the face hard enough to sting my own palm.

"Don't you ever touch me. Get away⁠—"

But he doesn't budge. He grabs my ass, forcing my body to grind against his pelvis, revealing his dick is rock hard. "That's it," he breathes, holding on, loving every second of it. "Fight me. You're better than I even thought. Keep going, sweetheart, nobody's coming down this hall but⁠—"

Heavy footsteps ripple down the hall, and I feel Sergei go still. It's a twinge of hope I can't grasp fast enough as he glares into the darkness and growls under his breath. I twist enough to see down the hall to where Demin's standing, and he doesn't look happy.

In a split second, everything in the hallway changes. I've watched Demin be cold before, watched him threaten me, but I have never seen the thing that comes over his face now. He looks possessed, dark eyes, wild with possessiveness or jealousy. I can't tell.

My eyes meet his, and everything I'm feeling crashes down around me. The shock of being grabbed. The shame of where I just spent the night, of being found like this, of any part of this looking like something I invited. And underneath all of it, a relief so desperate, I almost call his name.