Page 14 of Bratva Vow

“And what? You’ll just watch from the corner?”

“I’m leaving.”

That gets her to perk up. “Really?”

“For now.”

She glares. “Read the room, Volkov.”

“I’m reading it just fine, princess. It won’t be so bad. Especially when I can finally get my turn.”

I allow my gaze to soak in her body, shamelessly imagining her naked and moaning underneath me.

My cock twitches excitedly while my brain reminds me that she’s going to need more from me than looks and things I need from her.

You’re unbelievable.”

“No,” I say, walking to the door, “I’m inevitable.”

She’s still standing there when I leave, the scent of lavender starting to drift through the room. I know she won’t sleep well tonight, she never does. But she’ll think about everything. About the bath. The contract.

Me.

She’ll come around.

Eventually.

And if she doesn’t?

I’ll bring her around.

Either way…she’s not leaving.

4

Sienna

The hotel suite is so quiet that it’s making me nervous.

Too clean.

Too still.

The kind of luxury I only see in movies. Gray marble floors and blackout curtains cracked open just enough to let in the glow of the city below.

A note sits on the bedside table beside a bottle of water beside a bouquet of pink flowers. My name is scrawled in slanted, elegant handwriting.

Breakfast in one hour. Wear the dress. We’ll discuss everything.

—B.

I sit up, groggy and mentally wrecked.

Then I see it: the dress.

It’s laid out over the chaise near the window, black silk that gleams in the sunlight, delicate straps, and a slit that screamsexpensive and intentional.

The tag is still on, of course. I don’t even want to look at the price, at how much I’m worth going to brunch with this man. All I have are the jeans and white tee I wore yesterday. The shirt is wrinkled, slightly stained near the hem from work. My jeans are coated in old flour and batter. No makeup. Just me, bare-faced, messy-haired, and thrown into a world I didn’t ask to enter.