Page 19 of The Bratva's Plus-Size Bride

“Will you forgive me?” he asks. He flicks his gaze over to me, and I shift in my seat beneath its heat, his obvious desire.

The feeling is mutual. His suit hugs the thick muscles of his thighs, and I long to climb over the center console and straddle him. The effect he has on me is impossible to ignore. I never should have gotten into this car, where I can’t help but stare at his face in the dashboard light. Shadows etch his perfect jaw. Every second in his presence wears down my self-control, and the wall that says this is nothing but business between us.

In that state, I can’t answer his question because my body clearly wants to forgive him. Instead, I avoid it, volleying back with one of my own since it’s easier to argue than to let the lust simmering between us boil over.

“Who was she? That woman who was hanging all over you?” I stare out the window. A light rain has started, peppering the glass, crystallizing the streetlights’ glow. What I really see is her Mr. Milov with another woman on his arm, someone thinner, wealthier, more suitable for his world.

“You mean Mrs. Kozlov? She’s just an investor. Seriously, you can’t think I’m interested in her. Not when I have you to compare her to.” He reaches for my thigh, to where the high slit of my dress reveals a V of pale skin, but I bat his hand away.

If he touches me, the tenuous hold I have on my self-control will snap. All my embarrassment and indignation won’t be enough to keep me from climbing him.

“Is that how you speak to all your investors?” I challenge, folding my hands in my lap so he can’t see them shaking. Not with nerves. With the strain of holding back from him.

He blows air from his nose in a scoff. “No, of course not. We’ve been courting her for a while. Her husband, actually, for years before his death.”

That makes me sit up in my seat and turn toward him. “His death? She wasn’t that old.”

“Well, he was older.”

He’s holding something back from me. I can see it in the way his jaw is working, the way his eyes are suddenly glued to the road when a minute ago he couldn’t keep them off of me.

“And? There’s something else.” Doubt burrows a hole into my chest and why can’t it ever be simple with him? He makes it so hard to trust.

We’ve reached a stretch of open road, and he presses the gas pedal hard, the force of the acceleration pushing me back in my seat. This time, my stomach flips with exhilaration. Everything we pass is a blur.

“He didn’t die of natural causes. He was murdered.” It’s costing him to tell me this, gritting out every word between clenched teeth. His hand wraps around the shifter, and I swallow around a lump in my throat.

“Murdered?”

“A deal gone wrong. That sort of thing. It’s nothing to worry about now that it’s just Mrs. Kozlov.” He sighs and slows the car, turning onto my potholed, dimly lit street.

One flickering streetlamp is all that’s left of the lights, and it’s on the farthest corner from my apartment, leaving my building in complete darkness. I’d completely forgotten him driving me home would mean him seeing where I live, and how completely embarrassing that is. Especially when I’ve already seen his penthouse.

“Um, you can just drop me here,” I say, reaching for the door handle like I’m going to roll out before he comes to a stop.

He rolls his eyes and keeps driving, stopping directly in front of my building. That’s when I realized I never told him where I live.

“I’m not letting you walk one step farther than you have to in this place. It’s bad enough that you live here.” He gets out of the car and starts to walk around to my door, but I’m determined to pop out before he can assist me.

Only my dress gets tangled around my calves while I’m still in stilettos, causing me to spill out of the open door into his arms. He catches me effortlessly and sets me on my feet as if I weigh nothing at all, leaving me dumbstruck once again at just how strong he is. Too bad he’s also a total playboy and, at this moment, shady.

“How do you know where I live?” I pull free from his arms and onto the crumbling curb.

“It’s in your file,” he says, nonchalantly. “And I have a good memory. Come on, I’ll walk you to your door.”

“It’s right there,” I argue, pointing to the dark doorway. “I can take it from here, and I’m sure Mrs. Kozlov is waiting for you.”

He growls something I can’t make out and grabs me, pulling me against him and capturing my lips in a hungry, crushing kiss. He’s all I can taste, all I want to taste, and my tongue darts greedily out into his mouth for more. His hands are in my hair, tangling in the curls and mine are all over him, up and down his back, looping behind his neck to bring him down closer to me.

When he breaks the kiss, I gasp, breathless and pouting at the sudden lack of him. “Mrs. Kozlov is nothing but business,” he growls, walking me backward until my back hits the wall of my building. His hands cushion me from the impact, but I’m trapped now, prey for him.

“I’m nothing but business,” I bite back, my lips still stinging from his kiss. I want more. It was just a teaser, leaving me hungry.

He looms above me, one arm above my head, pinning me in place beneath him. “You’re more than that, Ella. You’re everything.”

My knees wobble, and I can’t speak, because what am I supposed to say to that? It can’t be true, but I’ve never heard him sound more serious. He kisses me again, sweetly and way too briefly, then grabs my hand and tugs me inside.

“What are you doing?” I ask, blinking in the awful fluorescent light.

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