Page 97 of Obsessed Bratva King

“You think you can buy my forgiveness for locking me in?”

“No.” His gaze latches onto mine, something dangerous and deeply certain sparking in his expression.

He steps even closer.

I don’t move.

His smirk deepens, his voice dropping to something dark, edged with amusement.

“I think I already have it.”

I kiss him.

I pour everything into it—every ounce of pain, of love, of gratitude. Of the fact that, somehow, after everything, we both survived.

His grip tightens at my waist, pulling me against him, the heat of his body making my pulse spike. My hands tangle in his hair, yanking him closer, my heart slamming against my ribs as he responds.

When I finally break away, my breath comes fast and uneven, my forehead resting against his. His fingers flex at my hips, his chest rising and falling just as sharply as mine.

I don’t even hesitate.

I whisper it against his lips.

“I love you.”

His grip flexes against my waist. “I love you too, printsessa.”

I barely have time to let the joy settle before the moment is completely ruined.

A dramatic gagging noise shatters the silence.

“God, you’re disgusting,” Maxim groans, leaning against the doorway, looking thoroughly appalled. “You’d never find me fawning over a woman like that.”

Ivan doesn’t even bother turning around, but I can feel his exasperation in the way his fingers flex against my waist.

Elena, standing beside Maxim, smacks his arm. “Shut up, or I’ll tell them about the cat costume you like me to wear.”

Maxim chokes, his entire face twisting in horror. “Elena! What the fuck?”

Ivan, grinning, crosses his arms. “I think it’s romantic. Meow Maxim.”

I laugh, shaking my head, feeling lighter than I have in months as Ivan’s hand slips into his pocket.

And when he pulls it out—it’s small. Silver. Timeless.

A ring.

He places it in my palm, his expression unreadable, his blue eyes locked onto mine with a quiet intensity that makes my chest ache.

“Marry me. Again. Properly this time.”

My fingers tighten around the ring.

My pulse hammers.

I look up at him.

“Is that a request?”

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