Page 19 of My Bratva Dom

Viktor’s home, and Marie’s glowing like a woman who spent the last twenty-four hours tangled in her husband’s arms, locked away in their bedroom.

“Well, look who came back to civilization,” I tease my sister, flopping on the couch next to her.

Marie doesn’t even bother hiding her huge smile. “Miss me?”

“You?” I grin. “Always. Him?” I jerk a thumb toward Viktor, who’s standing in the entryway with Aslan by his side like a shadow. “Not so much.”

Viktor’s deep chuckle rolls through the room.

My gaze flicks to Aslan. He’s standing a few feet back. Broad, cold, and as infuriatingly hot as ever. His sharp blue gaze locks on mine, completely unnerving.

I should be used to it by now. I’m absolutely not.

Viktor’s voice draws me back to him. “I need you to behave this weekend.”

I blink up at him. “What’s happening this weekend?”

“There’s a charity gala,” he replies, pinning me with his intense eyes. He doesn’t say it’s Bratva business, but I read through the lines.

* * *

The venue is stunning. All glass chandeliers, huge floral arrangements, and shiny marble floors.

Marie looks amazing in a deep red dress that perfectly hugs her. I went for black. A short, fitted dress with sheer sleeves and a neckline that dips just low enough to keep things interesting.

“Looking good, sassy.”

I stiffen.

That voice. Deep. Rough. Like gravel and smoke.

I turn slowly… finding Aslan behind me, dressed in another impeccable black suit. The man’s built like a fucking wet dream, broad and impossible to ignore. His jacket stretches over his massive shoulders like the fabric struggles to contain him. He’s mouthwatering with his dark hair combed back, bright blue eyes contrasting with his tanned skin, ruggedly handsome features, and that mouth I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” I manage to tease.

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t blink, just drags his gaze down mybody, slowly, like he’s checking a damn menu. Deciding how he’s gonna devour me later.

I shiver.

“Stay close,” he adds low. His heat and scent enveloping me. “And stay out of trouble.”

I roll my eyes.

* * *

I was good. For a while.

I sipped my drink, made small talk, and even let Marie drag me to a table full of socialites who kept asking questions about her “exciting” marriage.

Then I got bored out of my mind, and that’s how I end up on the dance floor.

The music’s soft and slow, with couples swaying around. The guy I’m dancing with is cute enough, a little too chatty, but I’m barely paying attention to what he’s saying.

I’m too busy feeling Aslan’s stare burn through my skin from across the room.

I know he’s watching.

I know he’s pissed.

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