Page 36 of The Bratva's Auctioned Bride
“Ok, chicken feet,” I say, gesturing to the flame-grilled pieces.
“Are you serious?” he asks, looking at me in surprise.
“May as well, we’ve come this far.”
“Two, please,” he tells the street vendor, who is rather enjoying our reaction to his food.
It takes me a while to build up the courage to taste the chicken feet. The flavor was actually pleasant, but the look of it, the texture, the bony little pieces… it was too creepy, and I only managed to eat a portion of one before I declared I’d tried enough to pass the challenge.
Diomid ate his one and ordered a few more while I finished his beer.
***
When we arrive back at the villa, I’m exhausted from my head to my toes, but it’s the kind of tiredness where you feel full, content, satiated with everything good you’ve experienced.
I’ve never had a day like this. One so packed with adventure and new things. This whole experience has been a dream come true for me.
“I’m going to grab a shower and then sleep like a king,” Diomid says, smiling as he tosses his shirt over the back of a chair.
“I’m going to do the same. I’m so tired, but so happy. I think I’ll be asleep as soon as my cheek hits my pillow.”
Diomid walks toward me, standing over the chair I’m sitting on. He cups his hand beneath my chin and lifts my face. My heart beats faster as he leans down and gently kisses my cheek. “Sleep well, princess. Tomorrow we’ll have another adventure.”
“Sleep well… you too…” I mutter, breathless and pulsing with lust.
He walks away, and I’m alone in the living room, wondering what is going on with me.
Giggling at myself, I head upstairs to my own room and have a cool shower before slipping into my pajamas. But before I get into bed, I have an intense urge to thank him.
I’ve been thinking about it all day. He gave me this experience, and I don’t think he understands what it means to me. How much he’s set me free and let me understand who I am and what I want from life. I know. It’s a holiday. It’s not life-life. But it’s about seeing myself, who I am when I’m not restrained.
Diomid is incredible. He’s making me so happy. He is teaching me to be a little reckless, a little daring. He’s actually—he’s amazing. That connection I thought we had in the club the first night we met. I can feel it all over again. Stronger than before. I don’t think I was wrong when I first felt it. I think it was real.
I hurry to his room, a smile already spread over my face, eager to try and express in words how grateful I am, how much he’s given me, even if he doesn’t know it.
As I near his open bedroom door, I hear his voice.
“Yes, she’s enjoying herself,” he says.
I pause outside, out of view.
“Don’t worry about it, Jaroslav, I’m keeping her distracted. I’m handling her.”
Handling?
My heart pulls tight.
“Not sure, there’s no rush to get back home. I’m fine. It’s all good from my side.”
What does he mean by handling me?
“Alright, man. You too, sleep well.”
He hangs up the phone, and my feet won’t move. I hear him moving about in his bedroom, and I can’t bring myself to go inside and talk to him like I planned. His words are looping in my mind.I’m handling her. Keeping her distracted.
The hurt that pierces into me is sharp, like a shard of glass slicing into my chest. Everything we’ve been doing together—he’s just doing it out of obligation to my brother. He’s playing his part for the alliance. I’m a job to him. A task to accomplish in order to keep the business running smoothly between ourfamilies. None of this has been genuine. Not in the way that I was feeling it.
A sob leaps from my chest, and I slap my hand over my mouth to smother it.
