Page 2 of A Bride for the Bratva Boss
He doesn’t let go. Instead he leans closer to her, a leering smile on his lips. The motion reveals that he’s not wearing anything under his shirt as the buttons try to keep the two fabric halves together but lose the fight against the pressure of his belly,
A flip switches inside me. The darkness I honed as I grew up on the streets of Moscow, the part of me that knows how to break bones without leaving marks, rushes to the surface. My hands curl into fists, but I force myself to sit still and observe a little longer.
Tyler keeps talking. “…and if we expand?—”
“Shut up,” I say quietly. I can’t focus with his squeaky voice rambling on.
He blinks, confused. “Sorry?”
I’m staring past him, eyes locked on the bastard pawing the server. He’s now leaning back in his chair, to the relief of his shirt buttons, smirking, his thumb stroking the inside of theserver’s wrist. The business buddies at his table smirk at each other as she continues to struggle against the bastard’s grip.
I have permanently maimed men for less, but Rik doesn’t want violence out in the open in this town. The Kedrov family are moving into white-collar business and apparently brawls in pretentious restaurants don’t fit that image.
The server finally wriggles free and steps back, shaking. “Please don’t?—”
He grabs her hip instead. A hip I want to getmyhands on.Myhip.
Her cheeks flush with embarrassment.
Not the flirtatious kind women sometimes affect around men like him to avoid confrontation.
This is humiliation and discomfort. Maybe even a fear of losing her job if she says anything. I look around to see if a manager will come and deal with this, but none of the other staff, or customers react to what’s going on. I rise from my chair.
“Mr. Kedrov?” Tyler looks up at me, startled.
I ignore him. Every part of me is focused on the girl whose eyes flick around, looking for help. For someone safe to get her out of this.
Someone safe isn’t coming.
But I am.
I move silently across the Meridian’s gleaming dark-stone floor. I’m a predator in a suit tailored to hide the weapons I carry. I don’t need them, the deadliest one is me, anyway.
I reach their table just as the man trails his hand down her back.
She flinches.
The darkness inside me melts into red hot anger.
“Is there a problem?” I ask, voice low.
The man turns, annoyed. “Mind your business,” he slurs, drunk but confident. His kind always is, until they feel actual physical pain. Then they cower and whimper. “She likes it,” the asshole says.
My gaze shifts to the server.
Her heartbeat is visible at her throat. She shakes her head. A tiny terrified motion.
That’s all I need.
I lean closer to the man, my shadow spilling over him. “Apologize to her.”
“Or what?” he scoffs.
I smile, it’s not a pleasant expression. “You don’t want the answer.”
He rolls his eyes and reaches for her again, like I’m nothing.
My hand moves fast, clamping around his wrist before he touches her. I squeeze, not so hard that I would break it, but enough to promise I could.
