Page 52 of Prey of the Bratva

I stepped forward, closing the distance slowly. “It isn’t a war room.”

She turned her head just enough to look at me over her shoulder, blue eyes sharp even in the dim light. “Really? You are incapable of anything that doesn’t involve control and strategy.”

“That’s not true.”

She raised a brow slightly. “Convince me.”

I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I moved past her towards the table I had set up earlier. The decoration was simple, as I had kept it intentionally. It was nothing but two plates and a bottle of wine with a bouquet of roses waiting for her. There were no files and no weapons in sight. No visible war and no signs of the battle that was bound to unfold soon. None of that mattered right now. All that mattered was the two of us. Together. Alone.

When she followed me with her gaze, something in her expression shifted. The change was subtle, but it was there, and Igave her time to take everything in. To become comfortable with the idea of it all.

“Did you plan all of this for me?” she asked, her words brimming with disbelief. It was enough to tell me that Misha Chernykh had never experienced it before, and she didn’t even expect to experience it. She was the kind of woman who didn’t believe in being spoiled, but it was only because she had never been spoiled by anyone.

I wanted to change that. Today and every single day for the rest of our lives. The realization hit me with a force, but I didn’t let it overpower me. My feelings for her were growing stronger every minute, and I could sense that she was beginning to feel the same way. But right now, it was not the time to discuss time. Right now, I only want us to be there in the present. Our present.

“Yes. Who else would I be doing it for, Misha?” I asked, amused by her question.

“For what reason?” She was still surprised, her icy blue eyes wide with disbelief.

I pulled out her chair, not as a gesture of politeness, but something quieter. Something far more deliberate.

“Sit down,” I said.

She studied me for a second longer, as if weighing whether this was a trap or something else entirely. She trusted me now, or else she would have never allowed me into her mission. But I understood her instinct to question everything. I was the same person, and that was what scared me about us. The similarities we shared. She finally walked forward and took the seat without another word.

I moved to the other side and sat across from her. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable or empty, but it held something heavier than either of those things. A tinge of expectation.

“You’re thinking too much,” she said finally, reaching for the glass in front of her.

“I always am.”

“Yes,” she murmured. “That’s the problem.”

I almost smiled at that. Almost. She picked up her empty glass and motioned towards me, and I immediately opened the bottle of wine to pour it for both of us. The food was waiting for us already, and Misha quickly removed the lids from the plates. We ate quietly for a few minutes. It was not tense or guarded but just two people who were still largely lost in their own minds, trying to make sense of it all. It was the kind of stillness that didn’t exist in either of our worlds unless it was carved out intentionally.

She broke it first, “Kliment?”

“Misha.”

“This isn’t just dinner, is it?”

“No,” I said. “It is a lot more than that, I agree.”

She leaned back slightly, watching me now with full attention. “Then what is it?”

I held her gaze unflinchingly. “The truth.”

That got her. Not visibly or dramatically. But I saw the shift in her focus and the way her body stilled just slightly, and her fingers stopped moving against the glass.

“Alright,” she said after a second. “Go on.”

I didn’t soften it or dress it up for her. I wasn’t ashamed to tell her the truth. I was certain she knew it already. From the moment she had come into this house, she knew I had been chasing her that day, and I was obviously chasing her with a purpose. None of it was pointless. But since then, everything had changed between us, and both of us knew that as well.

“That day when you went to the docks, I was following you with the intention of eventually killing you.”

I waited for her to say something, but there was no reaction. Her face displayed understanding rather than fear or disgust. I wasn’t surprised at her lack of response, having expected it already, but I still needed her to say something.

“Say something,” I beckoned, and she quietly shook her head.