Page 12 of The Bratva's Arranged Virgin Bride
Instead of reaching for a hidden weapon or lunging at me with her bare hands, she smiled at me. It wasn’t one of the sunny smiles I remembered so well, far from it.
“Aren’t you shocked at the change of brides?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“I’m very shocked,” I told her honestly. “But also very, very pleased. It’s been too long.”
Her smile wavered, her jaw clenched. It seemed to take a lot to ask the next question instead of punching me. “Then why haven’t you asked the reason?”
“Because that would take all the fun out of you revealing it to me,” I told her, giving her a mocking grin.
Now, she really looked like she would take a swing at me. Good. We had to start somewhere. She couldn’t stay angry at me forever now that we were married. She’d chosen to walk down the aisle. Now, she had to face the consequences.
Instead of attempting to knock me out, she stepped closer. Her fists opened, and her palms rested against my chest. What was this? This was much better than getting hit. She tipped her head back to look up at me, her eyes those bottomless blue pools I used to get so lost in.
What the hell was going on? This wasn’t what I expected from her. Not the Nat I thought I knew. Her hands slid up to my shoulders, and she took a step closer, our bodies now just mere inches apart. I could feel her heat through her dress. My own hands moved to her waist, tentatively. She didn’t jerk out of my grasp, and I tugged her even closer.
As confused as I was, I was willing to put off my many questions if she’d rather pass the time getting reacquainted this way.
