Page 76 of Cruel Russian King
I didn’t want to rein her in. I wanted her to have it all, everything she desired. Money was no obstacle. My wife would have it all…because that is what she deserved.
“And can I add…my own custom features?”
I lifted a brow, amusement flickering over my face. “Such as?”
“It must be hot pink. Maybe…it can shoot bullets from the side at the press of a button?”
I laughed. “That's actually a very good idea. Other wives would definitely be jealous of your car.”
Her soft laugh floated to my ear. “I don’t need a machine-gun car. But hot pink? Yes. I trust your guards will keep me safe.”
I lifted her hand to my lips, pressing a possessive, lingering kiss to her knuckles. “You’ll have everything, printsessa. A credit card without limits, your own security detailheaded by Ruslan. I promise to only add a tracker on your phone so you can freely discuss with your sisters how much of a possessive asshole I can be at times.” I smiled at her and winked.
She laughed. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. I do miss them.”
I kissed her knuckles again but this time placed her hand on my thigh.
A comfortable silence fell between us on the remainder of the ride.
When we pulled up to the restaurant, Ruslan opened Ninel’s door, and I met her at the front of the vehicle. I wrapped my hand around her waist, before guiding her inside. We made our way to the VIP section, to my private room upstairs.
I chose one of the curved booths and slid in next to her.
I placed the tablet on the table. “You’re ordering tonight. I don’t want you picking anything that’ll make you nauseous.”
She tilted her head, and bit her lower lip. “What if I can't stomach anything on the menu?”
I tucked her hair behind her ear. “Then you tell me what you want, printsessa…and I’ll get it.”
She nodded.
She ordered poached chicken with sweet mashed potatoes, and for reasons I’d never understand, insisted on a drizzle of pickle juice over the top.
The easy conversation flowed between us, teasing and light, until the food arrived and drinks arrived. I locked the door to the private room and sank into the booth next to her, letting my hand linger over hers.
“Ninel,” I said, my voice low, careful. “How are you feeling…about the pregnancy?”
Fear flickered across her silver eyes. I cupped her hand, stroking the back to stop the tremor that ran through her fingers.
“Can I be honest?” she whispered, looking at me through her thick eyelashes.
“Please.”
“You only made me your wife because I was part of your revenge…” Her words cut me deep because I heard the pain in her voice.
“…and I know that me being pregnant wasn’t part of your plan. And when you found out, you were so angry…” Her voice drifted off, almost breaking.
“Ninel, look at me.”
She lifted her head and met my.gaze.
“I was upset because you didn’t tell me. I didn’t know if you’d…considered ending it. But this…this baby. I want it. I want it with you. I want us.”
Her eyes glistened, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
“Printessa…” I murmured, brushing the tear away, “don’t cry. I know I'm rough around the edges and I'll make mistakes…hell, I’m a bastard of a man. But I’ll need you, Ninel, to help me navigate all of this. Help me be better…for us, for this family we’re creating.”
“I will,” she whispered. “Because I want this just as much as you do.”
