Page 19 of The Bratva's Forced Kidnapped Bride
When we arrived at my penthouse apartment in the city, one of the few nice buildings in the Soviet-era wasteland of my hometown, I told her to get some sleep because there was going to be a dinner in our honor with everyone in attendance that night. She tried to be defiant, but a huge yawn cut the act short, and she reluctantly agreed that I might have good ideas once in a while.
After checking in with my uncles, and making sure the guards understood that Masha wasn’t to leave the apartment for any reason—not even a blazing inferno—I barely made it to my own bed, crashing and sleeping half the day away.
Never one to succumb to jet lag, I was refreshed and ready to face my hellcat bride. She was already awake, but admitted that she had just rolled out of bed and was snacking on some Khvorost that my Aunt Nadia had sent over.
“Careful,” I warned. “I haven’t told you about her yet. Those just might be poisoned.” To show her I was mostly joking,I popped one of the powdered sugar pastries into my mouth. “Hurry up and finish that so I can show you something.”
I made sure everything was the way I’d ordered before leaving LA, and when she followed me to the big closet in my bedroom, I showed her that half of it had been filled with clothes for her.
“I told you not to worry,” I said, waiting for her reaction.
My people had worked hard to get everything I wanted. Designer dresses, jewels that cost a small fortune, and matching shoes for everything. I wondered if Nadia had jumped in and helped out with this particular task, because it all looked like any woman’s dream.
Except, apparently, my wife. Masha barely glanced at the stunning gold gown I couldn’t wait to see on her, rolled her eyes at the jewel display, and went straight to the jeans.
“I’ll be glad to get out of these clothes,” she said, sliding open a drawer and rifling through the T-shirts. “Isn’t it crazy how gross you feel after a long flight?”
What was crazy was that she wasn’t impressed at all, and why my feelings were so stung by her lack of interest in my lavish gifts. Why the hell should I care? She’d wear what I told her to wear, whether she liked it or not.
Since the formal gold dress was for another party, I picked out a royal blue one and held it up, pointing at the matching shoes with my free hand. Then I nodded at the sapphire necklace and earring set lying in their open velvet box on the center console.
She laughed. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Since when did I tell you to think? Put the dress on. Do I have to remind you what’s at stake if you don’t properly play your part?”
She sidled up to me, batting her big brown eyes. “Oh, I’m fully prepared to act like a loving wife,” she said, running her hands up my chest. “But not in something like that. I won’t be able to run worth shit in those heels, and the dress is way too low cut.”
The dress wasn’t low cut at all, but I leered down at her ripe breasts under her silly cartoon t-shirt. I had thought it was funny at first to order the closet in LA to be full of clothes she’d be sure to hate, but she barely seemed to care and still looked hotter than blazes in them.
To pay her back in kind, I ran my hands up her chest, leaning gently on her shoulders as I loomed over her. “There will be no need to run, and if for some reason there is, I’ll carry you to safety… my love.”
She scowled hard at the sarcastic endearment and jumped back as if my touch had burned her. Her cheeks were red, and she turned away, pulling a pair of black trousers and a simple white blouse from the rack. They were more suitable for a job interview than a celebration dinner, and I cursed whoever chose them.
“Nope,” I said, taking them from her and dropping them to the floor. “Everyone there will be dressed in their finest, and I expect you to outshine all of them. Now, put the blue dress on.”
After a brief staredown that involved her eye starting to twitch, she finally conceded defeat. What else could she do?
“I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes,” she said. “Now, can you give me some privacy?”
I was irritated, bordering on being pissed off. I shook my head. “So you can wear what you want and make us late? I think I’ll stay and watch to make sure you don’t defy me.” Her eyes narrowed, but I reminded her that I didn’t want to kill anyone in her family, but I would if she pushed me.
That pissed her off, but she grabbed the blue dress from the rack and shook it almost violently off the padded hanger. When it fell to the floor, she kicked it, grabbing it when it floated up to her. It was all I could do to keep from laughing until something in her attitude changed.
When it was very clear I wasn’t leaving, she stood in front of me, staring me dead in the eyes as she slowly pulled her shirt over her head. Letting it drop from her fingertips to the floor, she ran her hands up her sides and turned around, looking through the drawers until she pulled out some lacy black lingerie, holding it up as if she was thinking it over carefully.
“I wonder if this will show through?” she asked in a low voice, finally turning back to me and unclasping her plain white bra and letting it follow the t-shirt to the floor.
My breath hitched in my throat as I let my gaze drop to her perfect, ripe, round tits on full display. Her arms rippled with goosebumps despite it being a comfortable temperature, and she slowly, oh so slowly put the black bra on, her taut pink nipples showing through the lace.
Leaning over, she shimmied out of her jeans, letting her white cotton panties slide down her legs with them. All too soon, she had the matching black ones on and made a big show of bending over to slip into the high heels while wearing only the lingerie.
My mouth was bone dry, and my hands curled, my fingers aching to reach out and touch her. She wasn’t the first beautifulnaked woman I’d ever seen, but if she was the last, I would have been fine with it at that moment. She was exquisite as she licked her lips and moved closer to me, one of her lithe, muscular legs nudging between mine as she pressed her body against me while pretending to reach for something over my head.
The whole show was a game, but I was happy enough to watch. As she let the silky fabric of the dress slide down her body, I drank in every inch of her. There was a long, thin scar on her side, another one on her thigh. They didn’t mar her beauty, but enhanced it. If she hadn’t been making me so angry with that little vixen act that didn’t suit her, I would have asked how she got them.
Smoothing her hands down her sides, she smiled up at me, batting her lashes again. “What do you think? Will I outshine everyone?”
The dress hugged every perfect curve, and the color made her whiskey colored eyes darken to a rich coffee shade. Her hair fell in smooth waves over her shoulders, framing the subtle hint of creamy skin at her neckline.
