Page 35 of Trapped By the Bratva

Why can’t we get along while we’re here like this?

Something had to be wrong with me for him to be this standoffish, and it pained me deep in my heart to wonder how I was faulty. He was a hard man to crack, but I started to lose hope.

Knocks sounded on the door, and Ivan entered after calling out that it was him. “Am I interrupting?” he asked.

Yes.

“No,” Dmitri answered.

I held back a smirk, hating how possessive I wanted to be of this man who gave me no encouragement to want to be closer.

“How’s it going in here?” he asked as he stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Slow,” Dmitri replied at the same time I said, “Great!”

Ivan chuckled, glancing between us. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you twonotbickering to some degree.”

“Oh, no. I’m not bickering.”

Dmitri sighed. “Thatisbickering.”

“No. It’s disagreeing. There’s a difference.”

He smirked, looking down his nose at me as we stopped walking with Ivan’s entrance. “Oh? What’s the difference, then?”

“Enough.” Ivan lifted his hands and laughed more.

“What do you want?” Dmitri asked gruffly.

“Jeez.” Ivan rolled his eyes at me. “You see how he talks to me?”

I smiled, joining in on the teasing. “Oh, it’s how he talks to me, too.”

“Idon’ttalk to you,” Dmitri said.

But I really wish you would.

“Youtalk. And try to tell me what to do,” he explained.

“Well, she’s supposed to, isn’t she?” Ivan joked. “In terms of your therapy efforts?”

I lifted my face high and smiled brightly. “Ha. Thatiswhat I’m here for.”Not lusting after you or wishing this one-sided desire for a connection could turn into something more.

“You’re here to annoy me, nag me, and generally piss me off on most days,” Dmitri growled. “But you”—he scowled at his brother—“are going to join the club in that regard.”

He slipped a bit, and I frowned, ready to brace him if he was putting too much weight on that leg.

“Easy,” I reminded him as I led him back toward the chair to sit.

“I’m sick of fuckingeasy,” he snapped.

“You’re an angel, putting up with him like this,” Ivan said, following us across the huge room as Dmitri hurried to take a seat.

“And I’m getting sick of explaining that you can’t overdo it or rush things,” I retorted.

“Any. Way,” Ivan said louder, emphasizing that he came here to say something. “Becca and I were talking about the wedding planning, and it hit me that I need to focus on having the bachelor party, too.”

Dmitri grunted as he sat. “Seriously?”