Page 34 of Ripped Lace (Ripped Bratva)

“Ivan,” I command, “release her.”

He does as I say immediately.

All that does is allow the robe to come apart completely.

I catch another glimpse of her naked pussy and the hard nubs of her nipples before she yanks the robe around her again and ties it tight across her stomach.

Ivan’s head is down, but I notice him glance out of the corner of his eye at her as she does up her garment. A lash of fury rises up in my chest at the thought of his hands on Elyssa’s skin.

“Now get the fuck out.”

He starts to hurry past me, eyes still on the floor. But before he can make it out the door, I pounce on him. Seizing the front of his shirt, I spin and slam him against the wall. He’s a few inches shorter than me, but at least fifty pounds heavier. It doesn’t make a difference. He might as well be a scared little child in the face of my wrath.

I shove my face in his. “If I ever catch you with your hands on my wife again, I will fucking end you. Understood?”

Fear snakes across his eyes for a moment before he nods. “Yes, don.”

“Good. Get out of my sight.”

I shove him away. He runs like his life depends on it. Smart man.

That’s when I turn my attention to the woman standing across from me, her hands propped resolutely on either side of her hips.

She’s done a hasty job of tying up her robe so it still slacks at the center, allowing me a generous view of her cleavage.

My eyes dip down to drink in the sight. She doesn’t miss it. Her hands flinch instinctively towards the tie, but she squelches the urge and glares at me. Her cheeks are flushed, though I’m not sure if it’s from the mess she’s just made or the fact that I’m making no secret of eye-fucking her.

“Found my room, did you?” she snaps.

I raise my eyebrows. The tone is new, too. Usually, even her anger has been muted. But I can sense a change. Things on the surface are cracking, letting in the real stuff underneath. The truth is coming to light.

I’ve waited a long time for this.

“I had other business I needed to attend to.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Why didn’t you tell me that you were bringing me to Mexico?”

I shrug. “It was need-to-know information. You didn’t need to know.”

“I beg to differ.”

Her chin juts out slightly. The effect is adorable. She’s bristling with anger, but all I can think about is pinning her down and fucking that brattiness out of her.

I slap away the unwanted thought. I have to stop looking her like that. She’s my wife in title only. It was an act of submission, a declaration of my intention. It didn’t mean anything personal.

I’d already crossed the line by fucking her the day we got married. I won’t make that mistake twice.

“You can differ with me all you want,” I say. “It won’t change a fucking thing.”

She still flinches slightly when I swear. So some things remain the same.

“What are you smiling about?” she demands.

“Nothing to concern yourself with.”

“WhatamI to concern myself with then?” she asks. “Because clearly, I have no real purpose here.”

“Your purpose is to play the part of my wife.”

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