Page 40 of A Bride for the Bratva Boss
It’s not unusual anymore. My body has learned the rhythm of our life. And it’s early mornings with sounds of safety. The low hum of the thermostat, the faint clink of dishes from downstairs as Danyl makes coffee, the gentle creak of the mattress as I roll ontohisside.
His scent lingers in the sheets. Clean and warm and mine. All mine.
A year ago, I never thought I’d associate mornings with peace. Or that I’d wake with my chest full instead of tight. Or that happiness could fill you up to the brim.
I stretch beneath the covers, smiling into the pillow like an absolute idiot, because my life, my marriage, is perfect and yet it gets better in every single way.
And still every day I wake up a little stunned that this is real.
Thatheis real.
I slip out of bed, wrap his robe around me, and pad barefoot downstairs. The smell hits me before I hit the landing. Rich roasted coffee and pancakes.
I stop in the doorway to the kitchen. Danyl let me put up holiday decorations, even though he grumbled the entire time.
He’s standing at the stove, wearing gray sweatpants and nothing else, hair damp from the shower, tattoos shifting over the muscles of his back as he flips pancakes in the pan. He looks like sin and Sunday morning all at once.
And he’s humming.
A deep, gravelly rumble I can feel across the room.
A year ago, I married this man in blood and fear and chaos.
Now I’m watching him hum while making me breakfast.
My heart expands so fast it almost hurts.
He must sense me, because he glances over his shoulder. And there it is.
That smile. The private one he does for me and only me.
Slow and warm. A smile that softens all the sharp parts of him.
“Good morning, wife,” he murmurs.
My whole body melts.
“Morning,” I say, coming to stand behind him. I slide my arms around his waist, press my cheek between his shoulder blades, breathe him in.
He covers my hands with one of his, thumb brushing the platinum ring he bought me the day after my abduction.
“You slept well?” he asks.
“I always sleep well with you,” I say, and it’s true. I didn’t for a couple of months after the kidnapping. But Danyl woke me every time I thrashed, holding me through the nightmares. Even when I shoved at him in panic, he never once let go.
But the nightmares are gone now.
He turns off the burner, spins in my arms, and tilts my chin up with one knuckle. His eyes search mine, like he still checks, every day, that I’m alright. That he hasn’t lost me to the ghosts in my head.
“I have something to tell you,” I say, heart tripping.
His brows draw together. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I shake my head quickly. “No, it’s nothing bad. Actually, it’s good. Really good.”
His body relaxes immediately. “You’re scaring me a little.”
I bite my lip. Because we’ve been talking about it for months.
