Page 30 of The Bratva's Auctioned Bride
Grabbing two glasses, I pour the champagne, sussing out her vibe. Her cheeks are still glowing.
“Is there something you want to say, princess?” I ask, handing her a champagne.
“About what?” she huffs, biting at her lip again.
“Why are your cheeks turning seventeen shades ofon fire?” I chuckle.
“It’s none of your business,” she scoffs.
“Actually, seeing as I am the person responsible for your life and keeping you safe, everything is my business.”
Especially when her cheeks turned that red when I spoke about the idea of nothing going on between us. Why would that bother her to the point of embarrassment? Why does it excite me to think she would want something to be happening between us?
“Is this about us?” I push her, my curiosity getting the better of me.
“No! … Yes. But no,” she stammers.
My laughter bursts out unfiltered. “Thanks so much for clarifying that,” I muse.
Angelika lifts the champagne glass to her lips and downs all of it in one go. She sets the empty glass on the table between us and glares at me, her eyes fierce and burning.
“I was a virgin. Ok. There. I said it. Your stupid comment about me having guys in the past… well, it’s void, because there weren’t any.” Her cheeks are even redder now.
And I’m staring in absolute disbelief.
My jaw drops open as I trip over my thoughts and search for the right thing to say. But all I can think isthis is fucking incredible. I’m the only man she’s ever been with? She gave herself to me. I wish I’d known on the night, but finding out now, like this, has my body raging with desire for her.
This knowledge shifts something inside me, awakening it. A new kind of desire for her, an urgency not only to be selfish with her attention, but also to claim her as my own.
I don’t realize that, being trapped in my thoughts, I’ve failed to respond to her.
“See what I mean. It has nothing to do with you,” she snaps when I’ve been silent for too long.
I sigh, trying to push the inappropriate images from my mind and rein in the renewed lust burning through me. “Angel, why didn’t you tell me on the night? Or… why did you even go home with me? You didn’t know me.”
She shakes her head, swallowing hard, and she gestures for me to pour her another champagne.
I fill her glass and wait.
This one she sips, pulling an annoyed face at me. “Unlikeyou, I don’t just pick people by ‘choosing the first girl I see and taking her home because it’s easy’—I, uh, I thought we had a connection that night. Don’t get weird about it. I have, since then, obviously realized I was wrong. It was the shooters or something. But at the time, I believed it. I have no regrets, andI’m not trying to make a big deal out of it. That’s why I never told you. It was never meant to be a thing.”
She shrugs and twirls the champagne in her glass.
My thoughts are running wild.
She’s never been with another man.
And she’ll never be with anyone else but me.
What? Why would I think that? Nothing is going on between us.
I clear my throat and smile. “Then we won’t make a thing of it,” I say, making light of it to ease her tension.Except I am making something of it.She looks up at me, relieved, nodding. Despite the topic not entering our conversation for the rest of the flight, I can’t stop thinking about it.
It’s making me obsess over her and replay our night together over and over again.
This girl is full of surprises and has captivated me in very unexpected ways.
Why else would you be taking her on this holiday, Diomid? Stop denying the obvious.
