Page 34 of The Bratva's Arranged Virgin Bride
I wanted to argue, but didn’t want to risk losing the small compromise I had won.
“I get it,” I said, ending the call before he could back out.
What he’d suggested would be the best plan, the more I thought about it. Mat was the most even-keeled of his brothers. Daniil and Rurik were as hotheaded as my two remaining uncles. Ivan and Nik would blow it the second they came into contact with Kolya, and he’d make things worse with his obnoxious sarcasm and teasing, all but begging for a punch in the nose.
Lilia was Masha’s sister, younger by just a year and a half. They looked similar, almost like twins, but were as different as chalk and cheese. The daughters of my grandfather’s youngest son were much younger than our male cousins and were not just doted on but given the very best training. Masha was always the overachiever, taking on every task with gusto, while Lilia was quieter and more introverted. She still had a competitive streak and took on her sister whenever she could, which wasn’t often.
Because Mat, Dan, and Rurik were significantly older, I wasn’t particularly close to them. However, during my visits to Moscow as a kid, Masha, Lilia, and I had become fast friends. I hoped Masha would forgive me one day, but if Lilia was on my side, she was definitely an asset.
I hurried to find Kolya in his room and stood outside the doorway as if just entering his lair would have me melting into his arms again. I told him we were meeting Mat and Lilia that weekend, and it was obvious he wasn’t expecting a victory from me so soon. Or ever.
He jumped up and swept me into his room, and into his arms, whirling me around. Oh no, this wasn’t good. Almost instantly, I could feel my emotions stirring, about to go haywireagain. I held myself still, remaining business-like until my feet were back on the floor.
“I guess you’re pretty happy about it,” I said. “So, how about the car?”
“Get on your phone and pick out whichever kind you want,” he said. “I’ll have it here by tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? That was better than I hoped. “I don’t care,” I spluttered, taken aback by his happiness and generosity. Could he really just want to be part of my family? Impossible. “No, wait, something simple.”
If I let him go all out like I suspected he would, it would be much harder to tail him in a flashy red convertible or decked-out SUV.
He reached out and slid his fingers down the length of my arm, thankfully shielded by the thick terry cloth of my robe. I still felt the heat, and it began to spread, making me yearn for what I now knew he could do to me. Glancing up, I saw a gleam in his eyes.
“How about we do a little more painting?” he suggested.
Oh no, I knew exactly what would happen if we ended up in my art room. I had to get my feelings firmly under control before I allowed myself to go that deep undercover again.
But then I was back in his arms, and he was kissing me. I forgot everything except the feel of his mouth on mine, the way his tongue urged my lips to part. Everything drifted into the background, unimportant, as his hands roamed around my waist and down my backside, drawing me to him.
My hands ran up his chest to curve over his shoulders, then into his hair. The feel of the soft strands between my fingers had me lifting myself onto my toes, as I needed to be closer. Isighed into his mouth and smiled against his lips at the sound of his soft, answering laugh. Okay, this was okay. I could handle this for a few minutes, maybe a little longer. Just until…
His phone buzzed, then buzzed again. He pulled back, swearing under his breath as he read the message. “I’m sorry, I forgot about a meeting. I can’t miss it.” He did look sorry, and seemed genuinely irritated, but he still pulled away. He was still going to leave.
I kept a firm grip on his shoulders, not wanting to stop now that I had decided I could handle it this time. Looking down at me, he lowered his head and gave me another searing kiss, so deep I thought I had won. But no, I was set aside as he grumbled all the way out the bedroom door. I hurried after him, watching as he went downstairs, put on his shoes, and grabbed his keys. He was still going.
Was it all an act? What kind of meeting was he having at nine o’clock at night? I cursed the fact that I didn’t have my car yet. All I could do was watch him storm out the door.
