Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
O kay, as far as prisons went, this one wasn’t too bad.
I had a comfortable king size bed, a TV with every streaming service known to man, bookshelves with a variety of different books, an adjoining room with my own bathroom.
There was even a fancy drink cart in the corner, like the ones those old rich people have in movies.
The closet was filled with designer clothing, all brand new with the tags still on.
Some of it didn’t fit, but there was more than enough there to work with, which I was happy about because I’d been wearing the same clothes for I didn’t even know how long.
It felt great to wear something else, even if it was just a plain shirt and pants.
It was as nice as any five-star hotel room.
And I was suspicious as hell about it.
Aleksandr explained it well enough last night.
I answered his questions and he let me stay here instead of that horrid torture chamber.
I gotta hand it to him, it was a sneaky fucking move to play.
Showing me all this luxury when for the last few weeks, I couldn’t even piss without having someone watch me.
I wasn’t an idiot. I knew exactly what he was doing. Ordinarily I would have told him what I’d been telling him every day since he kidnapped me.
‘Get fucked.’
But I knew I had to start cooperating if I wanted to get the fuck out of here.
If he asked for something vital, like information on the cartel, our dealings or our clients then of course, I wouldn’t have said a word. Since all he wanted to know were the details about how Nero kidnapped me and how he knew I was Don, I gave him the answers he wanted.
I was still raving mad about the whole fiancé thing, so I didn’t even want to say a damn word to him.
Aleksandr seemed to be the designated spokesperson for the Bratva though, and that meant speaking with him was unavoidable.
Apart from Shaggy, Pavel, Mila and her pops, I hadn’t seen or spoken to anyone else.
My hand curled around the doorknob and I twisted it, giving it a hard tug.
No luck.
I released a frustrated sigh. From the moment Aleksandr left me in here, the door had remained locked. I tried picking it. Kicking the door in. Each attempt was utterly pointless.
There were three windows—two in the bedroom and one in the bathroom. All were locked and made out of some weird type of glass that wouldn’t break, no matter how much I beat the shit out of it. The bright side was though, the ones in the bedroom gave me the best view.
This morning when I woke up I heard yelling coming from outside, like someone was barking orders. When I went to the window to see what was going on, I got a front row seat to the best show I’d ever seen in my life.
Over twenty men, all shirtless, and a few women in activewear. Some of them were running around the yard while others participated in different drills. Their bodies were glistening with sweat, their muscles bulging and contracting. I had to fan myself, it was so damn hot.
Aleksandr was there. He was the one barking out orders like he was a drill sergeant. He was shirtless too and good lordy . I thought I might faint. He walked up and down a line of people, arms behind his back, face hard and serious as he watched them do push ups, sit ups and jumping jacks.
There were also target boards set up across the yard.
People would put together a gun, take their shot and then pull the gun apart before moving onto the next drill.
It was like some damn military training base.
The whole thing was super impressive. And a little scary. Was this how they trained their men?
If it was, we were seriously fucked. How could we compete with that?
I sat there a little longer than I was willing to admit, watching them. Watching Aleksandr. He was amazing, totally in his element. Everything he demanded of his people, he participated in as well, running, jumping and shooting right alongside them.
There was a tall, lanky kid with a backwards cap trying and failing to hit the target boards.
Aleksandr had gone over and shown him how to hold the gun properly.
How to load and unload it. How to stand.
He was patient, never losing his cool, even when the kid still struggled to make contact with the target.
I was fairly sure they’d been out there for hours. It was crazy.
A click echoed through the room and the door opened, Aleksandr’s broad shoulders filling the width of the doorway.
My heart pounded at the sight of him.
Nothing new there.
My blood heated, that rock hard body making my insides tingle.
I hated it.
A plate of food sat in his big open hand, the smell of beef and some rich, decadent sauce filling the air.
“How are we this morning, malyshka ?” His deep rumbly voice sent a shiver down my spine, as per fucking usual.
Asshole.
I answered his question with a hard glare.
He rolled his eyes. He placed the plate down on the side table and shut the door, crossing his arms over his chest. He was wearing a dark button-up shirt that clung to him so well it had to be fitted.
The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off his forearms. Veins throbbed under his skin and I almost fainted.
Dark pants covered his muscular thighs. I had the overwhelming desire to try and get him to turn around so I could check out his ass.
“We need to talk.”
“Do we?” I drawled, eyeing the food. The nice old lady—Flora, I think her name was—delivered a bowl of oats and fruit this morning, but I was still hungry.
After being stuck on a diet of fucking beans and rice for over two weeks, I was ravenous.
“I think we did all the talking we needed to last night.” I inclined my head towards the plate of food. “That for me? Or did you just bring it in here to torture me?”
He picked up the plate and held it outstretched towards me in the palm of his hand. The message was clear. He wasn’t going to bring it to me. I would have to go to him .
The nerve of this fucking man. He knew I didn’t want to be near him, knew I didn’t want to be within touching distance of him. I’d made that abundantly clear, and yet he was still playing this bullshit.
Too bad for him. He clearly didn’t realise I was a stubborn bitch and I wasn’t going to play his stupid little games.
I sat crossed-legged on the edge of the bed. “You said we needed to talk. So talk.”
He shrugged and put the plate back down. “Before we get to that, there’s something else we need to discuss first. I understand you had a visitor yesterday.”
I didn’t say anything because it didn’t warrant a response.
“Despite Mila’s claim, she’s not—nor has she ever been—my fiancé.”
“That’s great. And you’re telling me this, why?”
He gave me a deadpanned look. “One can’t help consider Mila’s unexpected visit and your increasingly foul mood and bad attitude to be connected in some way.”
I threw my head back and laughed. I mean, he was right.
But I wasn’t about to tell him that. “Man, the ego on you. I’m surprised you can both fit in the same room.
Relax, Big Guy. I don’t give a shit who you fuck and it’s kinda insulting you think I do.
Now, if that’s it on that ridiculous issue, what is it you wanted to talk about? I’m kind of busy.”
Aleksandr narrowed his eyes, a tick throbbing in his clenched jaw. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and threw it towards me.
I caught it, giving him a frown.
“Call your brother and arrange a sit down.”
I turned the device over in my hand. It was a black iPhone, the latest model. An old picture of Aleksandr and what I assumed to be his family lit up when I touched the screen.
“Why would I need to call my brother for that? We can do it right here, right now.”
“Any arrangement we come to needs to be finalised in the presence of others. It can’t be done with a simple one-on-one.”
My face scrunched up. “Kind of old school, don’t you think? Can’t we just settle this between us?”
Aleksandr shook his head, leaning back against the door. “That’s not the way we do things.”
I sighed, annoyed. If I could do this without involving my brother, the better it would be. Juan knew me better than anyone else in the world. He would see this weird, physical connection Aleksandr and I shared in a heartbeat. I didn’t want to deal with the huge freaking lecture he’d hurl my way.
Aleksandr inclined his head towards the phone in my hand. “Call him.”
“Look, I get it might be the way you do things, but the cartel is different. I’m the one with the authority, not my brother. There’s no need to involve him at all.”
“Either you call him, or I will. It wouldn’t take me long to track down his number, and I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to talk to me. Especially once he realises I have you.”
I growled, glaring at him. “God, you’re such an asshole.”
“Never claimed I wasn’t. Call him. Last chance.”
“Alright, alright.”
I dialled his number and put the phone up to my ear.
“Who the fuck is this?” Juan answered on the fifth ring. “How did you get this number?”
A smile curved on my lips. It wasn’t until I heard his voice that I realised how much I missed him.
Before I could respond, Aleksandr barked, “Speaker.”
I rolled my eyes and placed the call on loudspeaker so Snoopy Snooperson over there could listen in.
Nosy bastard.
“Baby brother.”
A sharp intake of breath from the other side. “Drea? What the fuck!? Is this really you?”
“Of course it’s me, cabrón, dumbass. Who else would call you ‘baby brother?’”
Juan grunted. “True. And you need to stop with that shit. You’re only three minutes and seventeen seconds older than me. Are you okay? News about Nero’s death hit weeks ago. Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“It’s…uh…hard to explain.”
“Well, the most important thing is you’re alive. When I heard the Bratva were involved, I feared the worst.”
My eyes flicked to Aleksandr.