Bratva Prisoner (Barkov Bratva Brothers #4)

Chapter 1 - Maksim

Three months of peace feels like a fucking miracle after the war; my family has barely survived.

I lean against the mahogany bar at Nightfall, watching the crowd moving in time to the bass that vibrates through my chest. The club belongs to my old friend Viktor, and tonight I’m here for one reason: to forget that I spend most of my days coordinating shipments and managing territorial disputes.

The Thorne situation nearly destroyed everything we built—a months-long war that started when Evan Thorne tried to use his daughters as pawns against our family and ended with his death in a shootout that could have torn the city apart.

My brother Dimitri married one of those daughters, Cecily, in what began as a strategic alliance and somehow transformed into the kind of love story that makes the rest of us question our bachelor status.

But we came out stronger, with new alliances and the kind of peace that lets me spend my evenings in nightclubs instead of keeping watch.

The Bratva life is brutal, even for those of us born into it. My brothers and I can finally breathe without looking over our shoulders every five minutes, and I’m enjoying the hell out of it.

“Another whiskey, Maksim?” Viktor appears beside me, already reaching for the bottle of Macallan he keeps reserved for special occasions.

“Keep them coming.” I down the remainder of my glass and set it on the shiny surface. “I’m celebrating.”

“Celebrating what exactly?”

“The fact that nobody’s tried to kill me this week.”

Viktor laughs and pours. “Low bar, even for you.”

I wince as the whiskey burns its way down my throat. Around me, bodies move in various states of intoxication and lust. Women in barely-there dresses grind against men in expensive suits, and the whole scene reeks of money and temporary satisfaction. I’ve sampled plenty of both over the years.

“See anything you like?” Viktor jerks his head toward a brunette near the VIP section who’s been batting her lashes my way for the past hour.

I follow his line of sight and grunt. She’s attractive enough—long legs, pouty lips, and the kind of curves that promise a good time. Exactly my usual type. But tonight, she barely registers as more than background noise.

“Maybe later.”

Viktor raises an eyebrow. “Since when do you turn down easy prey?”

Since never, actually. I built my reputation on being the Barkov brother who never met a willing woman he couldn’t charm out of her clothes.

But lately, even the most eager candidates leave me feeling empty afterward.

Maybe I’m getting old. Maybe I’m tired of meaningless encounters that all run together into one forgettable blur.

Or maybe I just need someone who can actually keep up with me for more than one night.

The thought has barely formed when I see her.

She’s sitting alone at a high-top table near the dance floor, and every instinct I possess goes haywire.

Strawberry blonde hair settles in loose waves just past her shoulders, catching the club’s neon lights like spun gold.

Her skin has a warm glow that makes me want to trace every inch with my tongue.

She’s petite but filled out in all the right places, wearing a black dress that latches onto her body, showing it off without being obvious about it.

When she smiles at something on her phone, dimples appear in her cheeks, and my heart stutters in my chest.

But it’s her eyes that stop me cold. Even from across the room, I can see they’re the color of emeralds, bright and playful and a little bloodshot from the drink in her hand, no doubt. She looks like trouble and salvation wrapped in one perfect package.

Viktor follows my stare and clicks his tongue. “Now that’s more like it.”

I don’t answer. I’m too busy trying to figure out why this particular woman has turned my brain to mush. She’s beautiful, sure, but I’ve been around plenty of beautiful women. This feels different… I just can’t figure out why.

“You know her?”

“Never seen her before in my life. But I’d definitely like to change that.”

“Back off,” I warn with a little too much heat behind it. “I saw her first.”

Viktor grins and slaps my shoulder. “Easy, friend. She’s all yours.”

I straighten my tie and abandon my drink. Time to find out if she’s as interesting up close as she is from a distance.

The crowd parts as I make my way across the floor.

Years of commanding respect in boardrooms and back alleys have given me a presence that most people respond to, whether they realize it or not.

But as I approach her table, I notice she hasn’t looked up from her phone once.

Either she’s completely oblivious to her surroundings, or she’s intentionally ignoring me.

Both possibilities intrigue me more than they should.

“Is this seat taken?” I gesture to the empty chair across from her.

She glances up, and the full impact of those green eyes hits me like a sledgehammer.

Up close, she’s even more stunning. Her lips are full and glossy, begging to be kissed.

A light dusting of freckles across her nose gives her an almost innocent quality that directly contradicts the knowing look in her gaze.

“That depends.” Her voice has a slight rasp that sends heat funneling straight to my cock, and I have to adjust my stance. “Are you going to bore me with pickup lines, or do you actually have something interesting to say?”

Well, look at that. The pretty kitten has teeth.

“What if I told you I own half the city?” I offer, propping my elbow on the table.

She rolls her eyes and sputters her lips. “I’d say you sound exactly like every other guy who’s tried to impress me tonight.”

“And how many would that be?”

“Enough to know the difference between confidence and arrogance.” She sets her phone down and really looks at me for the first time. “Though I’ll admit, you’re better looking than most of them.”

“Most of them?”

“Don’t fish for compliments. It’s unattractive.”

I laugh despite myself. When was the last time a woman called me out like this? “What’s your name?”

“What’s yours?”

“Maksim Barkov.”

“Well, Maksim Barkov, I’m Alyssa.” She extends her dainty hand, which I take without a second thought. “And before you ask, no, I’m not from around here.”

There’s a surprising strength to her grip when she squeezes my palm. Everything about her seems to contain contradictions—innocent yet worldly, delicate yet strong, approachable yet completely untouchable.

“Where are you from?”

“Does it matter?”

“Everything about you matters.”

That earns me a genuine smile, and those dimples make another appearance. “That’s better. Still a line, but at least it’s an original one.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“I already have one.” She lifts a glass of something pink and fruity.

“Then can I keep you company while you finish it?”

“You can try.”

I claim the empty chair and settle in, suddenly more invested in this conversation than I’ve been in anything for months. “So what brings you to Viktor’s place?”

“Viktor?”

“The owner. He’s a friend of mine.”

“Of course he is.” She takes a sip of her drink and adds, “Let me guess—you’re one of those guys who knows everyone and owns everything.”

The corner of my mouth lifts. If she only knew. “Something like that.”

“How exhausting that must be,” she replies, fanning herself.

“You have no idea.”

She watches me with those incredible eyes, and I feel like she’s seeing right through whatever facade I usually present to the world. It should be unsettling. Instead, I’m the most turned on I’ve been in years.

“What do you do, Alyssa?”

“This and that,” she answers with a disinterested shrug.

“That’s vague.”

“I could ask you the same question,” she counters. “You still haven’t told me what you do for a living.”

“Business.”

“Also vague.”

“Touché.”

The music changes to something slower and more sensual. Around us, couples begin moving toward the dance floor, where they press their bodies together in the flashing lights. Alyssa finishes her drink and sets the glass down.

“Dance with me,” I say, extending my hand.

She hikes an eyebrow and asks, “Is that a question or a command?”

“Whichever gets you out of that chair faster.”

She laughs—a sound like silver bells mixed with pure sin. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“Never.”

“Good thing I like persistence.”

She stands and offers her hand again, and the moment our fingers intertwine, an electric current travels up my arm and settles in my chest. We move onto the dance floor, and I pull her close enough to smell her perfume—something floral with hints of vanilla and spice.

She fits against me perfectly, her head just reaching my shoulder.

“You’re taller than I expected,” she comments.

“Disappointed?”

“Not even a little.”

The song wraps around us, slow and hypnotic. She moves with natural rhythm, and her hips sway against mine in a way that makes my blood run hot. When she turns in my arms and presses her back to my chest, I have to bite back a groan.

“You’re dangerous,” I whisper against her ear.

“You have no idea.”

Her ass grinds against me, and every rational thought in my head evaporates. The rest of the club fades into background noise. There’s only her body moving against mine, the scent of her skin, the way she tilts her head back so I can see the elegant column of her throat.

“Alyssa,” I purr against the shell of her ear.

“Mmm?”

“I want you.”

She spins to face me, and her hands fist in my shirt. “Here?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere.”

“That’s a lot of confidence for someone who just met me,” she replies with a smirk.

“I’m a confident man.”

“Prove it.”

My mouth is on hers before she can take a breath, and the kiss ignites something animalistic in both of us. She tastes like strawberries and champagne and pure temptation. Her lips are soft but demanding, and when her tongue slides against mine, I nearly lose what’s left of my control.