Page 25 of The Bratva's Auctioned Bride
My cock is pressing half-erect against my sweatpants, and I hurriedly turn away from her.
“Do you want some wine? I saw a bottle of white in here somewhere?” I say, crouching down to hide from the situation and busy myself.
“I’d love some wine,” she says, glancing over her shoulder.
Angelika moves toward the pizza base to add the sliced mushrooms while I take her place and pour two glasses of wine. I’m not certain that adding alcohol to the already tense situation in this kitchen is the best idea, but I need something to take the edge off.
I wonder if she can feel it too?
I can’t for the life of me figure out why I have this intense need to protect her. And this lingering possessiveness that I can’t brush off. She isn’t mine. She doesn’t belong to me. But I want to keep her. When I even think about letting her leave, I get agitated.
It doesn’t make sense.
Where is this coming from?
“Do you want almond sprinkles on your side?” she asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“Yes, why not. I’ve never tried it before, but I trust your judgment.”
“That’s a first,” she teases.
I pick up the wine glass and hand it to her. She smiles, her eyes bright and warm, tilting her head to the side. “Thank you, Dio,” she says, and the way she utters my name has my heart skipping a beat.
Dammit. This girl has some kind of pull over me. Why? And I still want her like crazy. For fuck sake I can’t even get my cock to behave around her, even when she’s wearing sweatpants and men’s body wash.
This is so wrong. It’s not like I can do anything about it. I already made that mistake once, but at least I can say that at the time, I didn’t know who she was. Now I do. There will be no excuses to explain that away.
“Alright, we just need to add the last layer of cheese,” she says, dusting her hands off on a cloth.
I grab the bowl of grated cheddar and move behind her, holding it in front of her so she can help me.
She grabs some and sprinkles it over, while I do the same. She doesn’t even seem bothered that I have my arms around her and her back pressed against my chest.
Why do I like this so much?
Stepping back when the cheese task is finished, I decide I urgently need to get out of this kitchen. “I’ll be in the living room,” I say, already leaving while she slides the air fryer draw closed and sets the timer.
She joins me in the living room, choosing to sit on the same stretch of sofa as me, with a seat open between us. Angelika pulls her legs up beneath her, curled and cozy as she turns her body sideways on the sofa to look at me.
“Aren’t you annoyed that you’re stuck here with me?” she asks, sipping her wine, her eyes drifting over me.
A short chuckle slips from my lips as I turn toward her, too. “You’re not so bad to hang around, Angel.”
“Oh, so I’m not a spoiled Bratva princess as you thought,” she challenges me.
“I didn’t say that,” I sigh defensively.
“It’s not like you’ve said nice things about me either.”
“It goes both ways,princess,” I grin.
She shakes her head, smiling. “Fair enough. Besides, it’s not you I’m feeling smothered by. It’s the whole idea of being locked up—again,” she sighs.
“Again?” My brows furrow in confusion.
“Oh, I mean my brothers. They treat me like I’m a thin piece of glass, so breakable and fragile. They have no regard for my freedom. My life. My right to choose where I go and what I do with that life.”
Cocking my head to the side, I watch her frustration.
