Page 15 of A Bride for the Bratva Boss
I hesitate. “That’s not very reassuring.”
A faint breath of a laugh escapes him. “No. It isn’t.” He looks at me like he’s trying to decide how much I can handle.
Finally, he says, “I move money. Real and clean. Fake and dirty. I make sure it ends up where it needs to go.”
I nod slowly. “So you’re like the accountant of the mob?”
His eyes flash with amusement. “Not exactly.”
“But you don’t kill people?” It’s a stupid question because I saw the violence he dished out last night. But somehow it’s important that he wouldn’t have killed the man. I killed him by accident, but Danyl is more experienced. He would have been in control.
He holds his body very still. “Not unless I have to.”
The honesty knocks the air out of me. I nod again, trying to absorb all of this. “Okay. I guess that makes sense. Just tell me if there are rules I’m going to break accidentally. I’m good at that.”
His expression softens. “You’ll learn,” he says. “I’ll teach you.”
Something warm twists in my chest. Something dangerous. The question slips out before I can stop it. “What happens now?” I move my hand back and forth. “Between us?”
His brows lower. “What do you mean?”
I can feel the heat rise in my neck. My face burns. My pulse hammers. I need to know if he’s expecting a traditional marriage. One that involves sex. And I don’t want to tell him.
I really, really don’t, but he needs to know.
The words tumble out fast and trembling. “I’ve never—” I swallow. “I’ve never done anything. With anyone. So I don’t know what you expect or what I’m supposed to do and last night felt like some kind of dream-wedding-nightmare and I just…I'm scared.”
Danyl goes completely motionless and just stares at me in silence.
A silence crackling with something sharp and electric that shifts the air between us.
“Liza,” he finally says, voice low. “Are you telling me you’re a virgin?”
“Yes.” My cheeks burn hotter. “I know it’s ridiculous at my age but?—”
“It’s not ridiculous,” he interrupts, his tone cutting through me because it’s fierce, immediate, almost protective. Then he exhales, slow and heavy, as if forcing breath back into his lungs. “I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t. Why would you?”
His eyes drop to my mouth, then snap away like it hurts him. His eyes flash and his pupils dilate. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough. “You’re my wife now and I want all of you. Our marriage will be real, not just on paper, not just in public. Everywhere.” His eyes flash again. “You’re mine now.”
The possessiveness in his voice and gaze makes my heart stutter. “But?—”
“I’m not finished,” he interrupts. “I can give you some time to get used to the idea. To get comfortable with me.”
“Comfortable with you?” I whisper.
The column of his throat moves. “Yes.” He steps closer. Slowly. Like approaching a frightened animal.
My breath shivers out.
He steps closer and lifts a hand, brushing my cheek with his thumb. Warm. Gentle. Devastating. “You are my wife,” he says softly. “My duty is protect you and please you.”
My eyes sting from the gentleness of his touch. “What is my duty?” I whisper.
He smiles, his finger trailing lightly up my jaw. “To please me.”
“Is that why you married me? So I could please you?” I’m not sure how to feel right now. His touch distracts me. The skin-to-skin contact igniting heat trails that zip through my body.
