Page 25 of Bought By the Masked BRATVA

Now, world leaders and criminal dynasties alike requestmeby name when they need deals negotiated, territories restructured, sanctions skirted. I don’t hide behind anyone’s title anymore. Grace Orlova is feared, respected, untouchable.

Some call me the Ice Queen. Others call me the voice of the Bratva. I don’t correct them. Both are true.

Behind me, I hear the faint sound of footsteps. Liam’s reflection appears in the glass before I feel his hands settle on my hips. His wedding band catches the light.

“Thinking about work on our wedding day?” he murmurs against my neck.

“Only a little,” I say, leaning back into him. “Hartley’s conviction. It’s… satisfying.”

He chuckles low. “You’re starting to sound like me.”

“Maybe you’re starting to sound likeme.”

He turns me around, his hand sliding down to where our child grows beneath soft layers of ivory silk. His touch is reverent, claiming. “You did all this,” he says quietly. “You rebuilt what they destroyed.”

I rest my palm over his. “Wedid. You gave me the power to do it.”

He tilts my chin, his dark grey eyes fierce and unguarded. “I gave you the throne. You built the kingdom.”

The music drifts from the house behind us, soft and slow. I can see our guests through the glass, Elena laughing at something Artem whispered, Iris twirling with one of her cousins, Saoirse watching them all with quiet pride.

And then it’s just us.

He leans in, his mouth brushing mine in a kiss that’s both promise and possession. “No more running,” he murmurs.

“Never again.”

The wind catches the edge of my veil, lifting it like a ghost of the girl I used to be. Grace Casey, consultant, scapegoat, survivor. She’s gone.

In her place stands a woman who doesn’t ask for safety anymore. She commands it.

I turn in his arms and look out over the estate. “You were right, you know,” I whisper. “Normal was overrated.”

He smiles against my temple. “And what’s this?”

“Power,” I say. “Love. Family. Everything I never thought I’d have.”

His fingers tighten on my waist. “Everything you’ll never lose.”

He pulls me to the side of the door, where we are hidden by shadows.

“Can you be quiet,milost?” he asks as he lifts the skirt of my gown and slips his fingers beneath the scrap of lace that covers me. He groans when he finds me warm and wet and wanting. “So perfect,” he says bringing his mouth back to mine as his fingers slip inside me. “Let me work that tight pussy of yours,” he whispers against my ear as my head tips back. His lips find my neck as he presses his thumb against my clit, steady and slow and sure.

My hips buck against him, my walls squeeze his thick fingers.

“That’s it,milost,” he says, his words hushed as my breath hitches, “quietly now.” His grin is wicked and wolf like. “Come on my fingers like you’re going to come on my cock later.”

I whimper, so close to release, but needing something more to push me over the edge. My thighs begin to tremble, my breasts feel heavy against the bodice of my dress. His mouth sucks the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder.

Then he lifts his mouth to my ear and whispers, “You make me so hard,milost.I can’t wait to fuck you until you beg me to come. I can’t wait to stretch you and fill you again.”

My whole body begins to shudder and he clamps his mouth over mine as I come on his hand. Wave after wave pulses through me until I’m limp and satisfied. He slowly removes his fingers, and I whimper at the loss.

When he lifts his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean, another jolt of pleasure pulses through me.

Fuck.

“You taste amazing,” he says, linking his fingers with mine and creating enough space between us for my skirt to fall back into place. “I’m going to have to have more.”

We walk back into the house, and I pray my skin is not still flushed from the orgasm. Once we’re inside he pulls me close against him in a dance that’s slow and steady, my legs barely keeping me upright.

“Sometimes I still can’t believe we’re here,” I mutter, my eyes closed as I rest my head against his chest.

“It’s strange,” he says, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. “I think I knew the moment you stood beside me at the masquerade.”

We stay like that until the last of the guests leave and his family all retire to bed. Me and my husband, my protector, my king.