The smile that had crossed Elena's face never left, but subtle changes in the lines around her eyes could tell someone that it had become much less sincere. It was as if her eyes glazed over at the thought of her experiences as a teen. She'd worked on them through therapy, but she recognized that she was one of the lucky ones. The Bratva took her as an oddity, not a young girl to pimp out for cash.
She reached for another piece of fruit to take a bite and swallowed before she answered the question as best she could. "Tokarev," the woman finally answered quietly, "Aleskey Tokarev."
And that was all she said of him. She didn't mention that he preferred to be called "Alex" due to the fact that he romanticized American media and movies. That was why he had made sure she and the others were taught conversational English. Thankfully, those lessons had also allowed for the supers under his care to speak to each other. While a few spoke Russian, many more were from all over Europe and Asia. English allowed his household to run while also allowing him to entertain the oligarchs that flew in from all over the world. She didn't hate him, but she preferred to not remember he existed.