Page 29 of The Bratva Sinner

I nod. I’m dying to get my hands on them. I want to bury my face against the strong neck of a horse. But I don’t know these horses. They could be mean.

“How many?” I ask.

“Three. One’s pregnant.”

“Do you ride?”

“No.”

I frown. “Then why have horses?”

His phone buzzes in his pocket. He checks the screen.

“Shit. I have to go.”

I look around. I’d be happy to sleep in here, but I follow him back to the house.

“Can I visit the stables later?” I ask.

He stops walking and turns to look at me. “Lila, you are not a prisoner. You are free to do as you please. I’m simply asking you to stay on the estate for now. I will never make you do anything you don’t want to do. I want you safe; that’s it.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be late, but I’ll check on you tomorrow. If you’re not eating because you don’t like the food, tell the cook. She’ll make you whatever you want.”

“The food is fine. I’m fine.”

His phone buzzes again.

I can only imagine the emergencies he must deal with. “Go.”

I go into the kitchen to get something to drink and see the cook. She’s a Cuban woman who doesn’t speak much English. She’s kind, and she is always trying to feed me. I know for a fact she isn’t one of Maksim’s women. When I first saw her, I thought she might be his grandmother.

I leave the kitchen with a sandwich that requires me to unhinge my jaw to take a bite, with layers of pork and ham and enough pickles to make my eyes water. She wasn’t taking “not hungry” for an answer. Apparently, everyone is making sure I eat.

I carry my plate to the solarium. I love sitting in there. It’s warm, but I like the smell of the earth and the foliage.

I take a bite and stare out the window in the general direction of the stables. A cowboy named Earl, who taught me everything I know about horses, once told me that you can tell everything about a man by the way he treats his horses. Those stables say a lot about the horses I haven’t met, but I know they have luxurious lives.

He hasn't hurt me. That's a low bar, but it’s important. He could have. He could have raped me. Killed me. Thrown me out.

He didn’t, despite me being pretty awful to him.

I'm not ready to call Maksim Sokolov a good man.

But I'm starting to think he’s one of the best men I’ve ever met.

8

Maksim

I pull up to the house in Coral Gables and see Damien's car in the driveway. I kill the engine and head inside. This house is my finest property. Six bedrooms, a private pool, and a security system that rivals a bank vault. Six women live here. Most have been with me for years. Everyone knows the rules.

Damien is standing in the living room with Briar. She’s twenty-one, brunette, and one of the smartest women I’ve met. She could have done anything with her life, but she chose this. I don’t judge; I just make sure she’s safe while she does it.

“Maksim.” Briar is nervous. I can tell by the way she twists her fingers.

“What’s going on?” I ask.