Page 37 of Bratva's Stolen Bride
I quirk one eyebrow. “I own this island. I control Beckenham. It’s legal if I say it is.”
There’s still a knot in my chest, because I can’t force her to do this, and the excuse about the London Mafia Syndicate is just that. Even married, I might have to use the island’s defences, because I won’t give up Payton without a fight.
“Well, do you know the words for a wedding ceremony?”
My chest eases slightly. Does that mean she’s considering marrying me?
“I don’t go to many weddings,” I confess.
“Not many invites for a mafia boss? Me neither. This is actually the first I’ve been to.”
“Let’s make it special then.” I tug her hand so she’s toe to toe with me, and yes. That’s what I need. “I think there’s ‘I do’?”
“And other promises. Like…” She narrows her eyes. “Love, honour, and cherish.”
“I will do whatever it takes, Payton.” I lose myself in her blue eyes.I’ll try to love you, even though I don’t know how, or even if I can feel that emotion, I tell her silently. “I will honour every promise I make to you. I will obey the dictates of my heart to protect you from harm. Anything that happens, I’ll be there, a buffer between you and everything that tries to steal your joy. You’re my reason for living. I didn’t know I was waiting for you. I didn’t know I bought this island to see your eyes sparkle in blue that matches the pale water.”
“And yours match the dark-blue water,” she adds. “In sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer?”
“Yes. Though I’ll do anything to prevent that. You’re good at this.” I can’t help but smile back when she grins.
“Saw it in a movie.”
“One of many reasons I need you.” I grip her fingers even tighter, and bring my other hand to cup her cheek. “To keep me up to date on culture.”
She giggles at that. “I don’t think ‘culture’ is what most people would call my romcom films and smutty books.”
“I promise to maim or kill, whichever you prefer, anyone who insults your taste in books.”
Blushing and laughing, she turns her face into my hand to kiss my palm. But when she looks back up at me, her expression has sobered.
“What about kids?”
“I’ll give you as many as you’d like,” I admit, my throat sandpaper. “More than that. I’d be delighted to fill you up, overand over. But I’ll care for our children properly. I won’t miss any part of their lives.”
“I’d like that,” she breathes. “Do you really want to be a father, and my husband?
“I do. Do you want to be my wife?”
“I do.”
There’s a long moment when we just gaze at each other, the morning sun on the sides of our faces, and the wash of little waves on the shore.
It’s as though something between us has clicked and locked in with those words.
“Is that it? Are you my husband now?”
“My wife,” I growl, and gather her to me, picking her up by the bottom so her face is level with mine, pressing a kiss to her lips and she throws her arms around my neck. My cock, already half-hard, rises to the occasion. Her legs dangle down and she’s just so much softness pressed to me.
I plunder her mouth with this kiss. I don’t hold back. I can’t hold her tight enough, or get her as close as I crave.
I need to be inside her. Breed my beautiful wife with all the babies she desires.
I spin us around to begin walking back to the house and begin exactly that when she squeaks and giggles. Pulling back from the kiss, I look into her eyes.
“You like being spun, moya lisichka?”
She nods, joyful and a bit shy, almost embarrassed.
