Page 42 of The Bratva's Arranged Virgin Bride
Chapter 23 - Kolya
I was stunned by the poison in Nat’s voice. Almost terrified by the icy gleam in her eyes. She was normally so sweet and innocent that I forgot she was raised in the Bratva. The look she was giving me should have been enough to drop me on the spot, but it was having the opposite effect.
My wife was incredibly hot when she was threatening me.
Perhaps it was a mistake to push my luck on her family’s home turf, but I didn’t regret letting them know in no uncertain terms that Nat was mine now. No one was going to take her from me. No one should try, family or not.
After she spat her threat at me, we rode home in silence. Once we arrived at the beach house, I expected her to go her own way. I didn’t like it, but I should probably go to the gallery. The clock was counting down to the first show. Posters were already printed and distributed; the word was out that this new place was going to be special. I had a lot of work to do to live up to those claims.
My galleries used to be my most enjoyable hobby, but now that Vissarion was involved, I only wanted it over with so I could enjoy watching him get dragged away in cuffs by immigration enforcement. Once he was back in Russia, I could deal with him more thoroughly, but I wasn’t about to have my careful alliance with the Fokins blow up in my face by getting into it with him here.
I hadn’t heard a peep out of him since I knocked him out the night before. For all I knew, I’d find his corpse still lying on the back-room floor. That would have been ideal, actually.
As soon as I parked the car in front of the beach house, Nat jumped out and stalked toward the door. My discreet guardswere ordered to stay out of sight unless there was an emergency, so she had to wait impatiently at the door since I had the keys. I ambled around, pausing to pretend to inspect the new agave plants the gardener had just put in along the walkway. She sighed, and I hid a smile. We both knew I couldn’t care less if they were thriving or not.
It was slightly irritating that the door didn’t have an electronic keypad, but it was an older house, and while the inside had been fully updated, someone had forgotten to modernize the doors. This way was more fun, anyway. I opened the door and held it for her, making a sweeping gesture with my arm for her to go in first.
“Always the gentleman,” she muttered.
Hey, she was talking again. Instead of huffing off to her room to stew, she stopped in her tracks in the entryway, whirling on me with her hands on her hips, eyes flashing fire.
My own eyes dropped to the level of her heaving chest. I couldn’t help it, she was so gorgeous when she was angry. But unfortunately, I had other things that needed attending. I held up my hand.
“I’m not going to fight with you,” I said. “There’s nothing to fight about. Why shouldn’t I kiss my own wife in front of her family?”
Let her try to deny that she wasn’t really my wife.
For a moment, she said nothing, probably deciding how to best curse me into oblivion. Then, all the air seemed to go out of her, her hands falling to her sides as her shoulders rounded. I moved closer, reaching for her to wrap my hands around her waist.
Her chin lifted. “We’re not going to be invited back any time soon,” she grumbled, but her eyes were softening.
“More time alone, then,” I said. There was the beginning of a smile on her lips, and she shrugged, not agreeing but not disagreeing, either. “I’m sorry I put you in the middle of it,” I admitted honestly. “And I’m sorry you got hurt.” My hands moved lower, caressing her sweet ass cheeks. “Would a massage help?”
She snickered, leaning closer, running her palms up my chest. “You’re just trouble all the way down, aren’t you?”
I nodded, my lips reaching hers as I tugged her up against me. Her soft body melted into mine as her mouth opened for me. Was she only pretending to be mad, or was this the act? Why didn’t I care? How could I when she gripped my shoulders and stood on her toes, brushing her perfect tits against me as she rose. She shivered as I growled, tangling my fingers in her silky hair. Normally, it was up in a ponytail or messy bun, but she’d worn it loose today. Watching it shift in the breezes all day had been driving me crazy.
She drove me crazy.
Now her arms were wrapped around my neck, her head thrown back as if she wanted me to devour her. I was hungry enough, but I tore my lips away to look into her eyes. They flew open, glazed with desire, as she reached for my head to tug me back down to her mouth. Instead, I trailed kisses down the side of her neck, feeling her body tremble as she pulled herself even tighter to me, grinding against my stiff cock.
To hell with the gallery. What was one more day wasted? Let Vissarion deal with it since he wanted to be part of it so badly.
I couldn’t touch all of her at once, and I was working into a frenzy trying to decide where to raise or lower my hands. Her simple full skirt was pissing me off, too much fabric in the way of her smooth skin. The white t-shirt that was tucked primly into her waistband all day had to go, and I yanked it up to reveal her lacy bra.
As my hand found her lush breast, and her sighs were about to make me lay her out on the floor right then and there, my phone rang.
And kept ringing. Whoever was calling me wasn’t giving up. Blinking rapidly, Nat pushed away, reaching her hand into my pocket and pulling out the phone. Despite being half-crazed, there was no way I could have her seeing something she shouldn’t, and snapped it from her a little too quickly.
“Ignore it,” she said, a touch of frost in her voice.
Oh, I wanted to, but sure enough, it was Vissarion. So, he was still alive. Pity. I turned away, grunting a rude word in Russian by way of a greeting.
“Get over here now,” he said, sounding harried. “There’s been a break-in, the place is trashed.”
I could picture him holding the culprits at gunpoint, making a complete mess of things as usual. Furious, I snapped that I was on my way and ended the call.
“I guess you’re on your way,” Nat said sarcastically. There was no more lusty glaze in her eyes, just cold, hard anger.
