Page 35 of Bratva's Stolen Bride
Strange thought. This man feels as essential to me as air, water, my sisters, and my eReader.
I take in our surroundings. The flower-covered arch, the lines of floaty white fabric. White dress. Linen suit. Gorgeous, romantic setting.
My brain can’t process it, because the pieces together are even more baffling. “Was this set up for that couple’s wedding?”
He nods, his face lined with tension.
I look up into his face. “I don’t understand.”
“Yes, you do,” he says harshly. “You’re a smart girl. You know that I meant it.”
Mine.
Recognition flashes between us. I can hardly dare to think what he seems to be saying. Us. Getting married.
A breeze catches my mostly-dry hair, and tugs at a lock, but before I can I push it out of my eyes, Feliks has stroked his fingers down the side of my face and tucked the unruly wisp behind my ear.
“That conversation started a ticking clock, Payton. Greenwich, the man your sister was with, is part of the London Mafia Syndicate. So is Richmond, the kingpin of the area youlive in. And if they turn up here and try to take you from me, I’ll kill them. It might be days until they arrive, but probably it’ll be hours.” He takes a deep breath. “If you’re my wife, we might be able to avoid bloodshed. Maybe they’ll respect that, and I won’t be forced to protect what’smine.”
My mouth has fallen open. I’m gaping like a very specific land-dwelling, Bratva boss-loving fish.
Loving?
Wait. What?
Can I love him after less than twenty-four hours? That’s insane, isn’t it?
Or fate, whispers my heart. He feels like the protective shell I should always have had. Not a fish after all, but a hermit crab that has spent its life naked, finally crawling into an iridescent shell with room to grow.
He’s totally different to me. Hard and difficult and morally grey at best.
But we fit. More than any person I’ve ever met, Feliks is a balance to me.
I know what love is. I love my sisters, and in the space of less than a day, Feliks is like that, but with a sexy extra, and a depth of affection that scares me.
“We get married to ensure they don’t try to take me from you, and then you won’t kill them,” I say.
“If there’s one thing I’ve heard about the London Mafia Syndicate, it’s that they value marriage.” He takes my hand. Interlacing our fingers, he swipes his thumb over my palm, then possessively over my knuckles.
And my god, he’s never looked as attractive as he does right now. Sincere and potent and yet a bit vulnerable.
“If you really want to leave, I’ll…” He stops, as though he can’t bring himself to say more. “But if you’ll stay with me, be my wife. Those are the options, and you need to decide quickly,because they’ll be on their way. Accept that I’ll kill them, or be my wife.”
His wife. I want that from the bottom of my soul, but he’s forgotten about all the other non-mafia issues. “What about Ivan?”
Feliks looks away, his brow creasing. “He’s dead.”
“But the man Hayley was with?—”
“Probably killed him,” Feliks interjects.
That blasts through me, but it’s a wind at sea, sweeping everything clean. All that remains is relief that Feliks doesn’t have to bloody his hands with his son’s end, and Ivan won’t come after Hayley or me again. I’ll never have to pretend to like him.
There’s just one question left. One thing between me and throwing myself into foolish but hopeful marriage with this gruff, grumpy, kind man who I’m besotted with. Maybe more.
“What about love?”
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