Page 18 of Bratva Prince
Sensing my confliction, his hand halted in its tracks. Relief, disappointment… Why couldn’t I make up my mind about what I felt? I was glad he pulled away, but part of me wanted him to come closer.
Just as I decided to go for it and slipped my hand into his, Viktor approached us with his new beau, his eyebrow raised in suspicion at my quick movement to pull my hand away.
His arm was wrapped around Giorgios, and he released his hold to take a seat next to me at the bar. “I see you never made it back to the room,” he teased.
I rolled my eyes and faced him, ready to spill the tea. “That’s because you will not believe what happened just after you disappeared from the dance floor. Some drunk asshole came up to me and got too handsy. Luckily, Ivan came over and beat the crap out of him.”
Viktor asked for more details, and I was happy to oblige, watching his jaw hit the floor when I told him about the vulgar comments the man made. I hadn’t said anything to Ivan, and glanced at him, shocked to see his jaw clenched tight, furious with the comment.
“Had I known he said that, I would’ve given him a few more punches.”
I laughed, playfully swatting his arm. “I think the poor guy suffered enough.” Ivan smirked and my smitten behavior did not go unnoticed by Viktor, who shot me a knowing glance that said we’d be discussing this inheavydetail later.
Viktor and Giorgios stayed for a drink as we revealed to the other what we’d been up to that night. I could sense that Viktor wanted to leave, but was hesitant to go. So, I excused us to use the restroom so we could talk in private.
“Go,” I said, insisting he have fun. “I’ll be fine. I promise, Ivan will walk me to my room once we’re finished at the bar. Safe and sound.” Once I assured him I was fine, he nodded, filled with excitement once again—a repeat of earlier.
“Well, we’re going to let you two love birds get back to your night,” Viktor said, swinging his arm around Giorgios when we returned. “Ivan, thanks for taking care of my girl. See her back to our room, please.” He leaned close to me, whispering, “I won’t be coming back tonight.”
I ignored his love bird comment and told him to call me if he needed me, waving bye to Giorgios as they left.
When we were alone, Ivan chuckled lightly. “Love birds, huh? I don’t know, I think we’re more of falcons. Too dangerous to be love birds.”
I shook my head, a grin plastered to my drunk face. I don’t even know how much I’d had to drink that night. If I hadn’t spaced out my drinks, I probably would have been stumbling all over the place.
“I think we’ve had enough of this bar scene,” Ivan said as he stood from his stool, extending his hand. “Care to take a walk on the beach?”
“Okay,” I answered, taking his hand as he led me away from the bar, throwing down a tip for the bartender before we left.
The outside was still warm on the beach. Though we’d been outside at the bar, the clutter of people and the lights that hung everywhere heated the area much more than the breezy walk on the beach, which felt much better against the heat of intoxication flushing my skin.
Kicking off my sandals, I walked along the coastline, testing the warm water with my toes before walking in far enough for the water to touch my ankles.
Ivan watched me with an eyebrow raised in question. “What?” I asked defensively. “It feels good. You should try it. Or are you too much of a wimp, Mr. Bad-Boy Viking?”
Using that name felt less humiliating than earlier. And apparently, he didn’t like being called a wuss because he slipped out of his casual dress shoes, rolling his socks into his shoes as he carried them.
When he stepped into the water, he held his arms up and said, “Happy?”
“Yes,” I answered with a wide grin. “I am. “
We continued down the beach, the water lapping over our toes and ankles, even reaching up to our shins when the tide was big enough. But it felt amazing. The cool breeze hit against my skin where the water had been moments before, sending a shiver down my spine, goosebumps collecting on my legs.
Somehow, we’d gotten on the topic of the future—or to be more exact, what we wish our future could be.
“What would your ideal future be?” I asked, curious what motivated him to be who he was. “Anything at all. Start fresh, away from the life you have now. What would your perfect life be?”
He laughed nervously, his fingers running through his long hair as he untied it and retied it. “Oh, man. We’re getting deep, huh?” He stopped walking for a moment and stared out at the sea.
I stared with him, watching the moonlight reflect on the water in a battle with the lights from the island. For a moment, life was still. Everything grew quiet, as if we were the only two in existence.
Maybe he was considering an answer to my question, or maybe he was avoiding it altogether. It didn't matter, because in that moment, everything felt… right. Genuine. Like it was the way it should be, if that made sense.
How could that be? I’d only met him earlier, and our first introduction wasn’t a happy one. Yet, being on this island with him, on this beach, standing in the water—I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.
Why was that?
I couldn’t explain it, even if I were being tortured for an answer. Because I didn’t know, didn’t understand it.
