Page 16 of Cruel Russian Monster (Safin Bratva #2)

I just wanted to do something nice for her. She’d pulled me into her infectious, fun-filled world this past week, and I’d let myself enjoy it.

I was fixing my cufflink when I heard her bedroom door opening, and I looked up.

My fucking mouth went dry.

I knew the moment I saw that dress online I wanted to see her in it. But seeing her in it was a thousand times better than in my imagination.

The dress clung to every inch of her curves. The halter neckline dipped low, right between her breasts. High slits ran on both sides and exposed her legs all the way up to the swell of her hips.

“Vera,” I said, huskily. “Do a three-sixty.”

She hesitated, then turned slowly. The back of the dress was open and dipped just above her ass. Knowing Vera wasn't wearing a bra under her dress made me salivate. When she faced me again, her expression was uncertain.

I stalked toward her.

“You look fucking gorgeous,” I said, my eyes never leaving hers.

She crossed her arms, self-conscious. “I feel naked.”

I didn't answer her. I slipped on my jacket, took her hand, and led her to the limousine that was waiting in the parking lot of the resort.

When the limousine stopped, the driver opened the door. I stepped out and took Vera’s hand.

Hand in hand, we walked to the entrance of the restaurant, where we were greeted by the owner, Ms. Muller, a middle-aged woman in a chef’s uniform.

“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Safin. Thank you for dining with us.”

Inside, the lights were already dimmed. Classical music played softly in the background, and candlelight flickered across the small, elegant space.

After showing us to our seats, the chef gave a polite nod. “Your appetizers will be served in ten minutes,” she said before excusing herself.

Vera looked around, her eyes glinting in the low light.

“This is nice,” she said, smiling. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Then she gave me a look. “But did you really have to place our orders without asking what I wanted?”

I reached for the bottle of her favorite wine and poured us each a glass.

“I know what you want,” I said, handing it to her.

She took a sip, eyes narrowing suggestively. “And what do I want?”

I sipped mine too, watching her over the rim. She tried to hide the smirk on her lips, but I heard the teasing in her tone. I told myself not to read too much into it. It was just the effect of the trip and the distance from the usual dangers we were accustomed to.

But fuck, I wanted her to feel like this all the time, not just in Florida. I wanted her this light, this playful, under my roof in Philly.

I set the glass down. “The same thing I do.”

She tilted her head slightly, swirling the wine in her glass. “Which is?”

“To be here. Alone. With you. Having dinner.”

Her voice purred, teasing. “We could’ve been in the villa…lights dimmed…having dessert.”

My cock jerked.

“Is that so?” I asked, a slow smile curling my lips.

Before she could respond, the chef appeared with a tray of appetizers.

“Bon appétit,” she said with a polite smile, then disappeared into the kitchen.

Over the next two hours, Vera and I teased each other, laughed, and got to know each other better. Before we left, she asked the chef for a to-go container of the lobster risotto.

After thanking Ms. Muller for a great night, we headed to the private hangar. I thought Vera would’ve been tired, but we talked the entire flight and polished off the lobster risotto and a bottle of wine. By the time we arrived back at the house, it was just after midnight.

I helped carry her bag to her room.

“I really enjoyed the last few days. It was fun,” she said.

“I did too...”

“Although there were a few things I still wanted to try.” She placed a hand on my chest.

I wrapped an arm lazily around her waist. “Such as?”

“After we freshen up, take me to bed and I’ll show you.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

I kissed her softly. “I’ll be back.”

“And I’ll be waiting.”

She slipped out of my arms and disappeared into the bathroom.

Fuck.

I hurried to my room, took a quick shower, brushed my teeth, and pulled on a pair of slacks. When I re-entered her room, the lights were dimmed. Vera lay curled up on the bed in her robe.

I approached with a smile and chuckled.

She was fast asleep.

I slid in behind her, slipping one hand inside her robe, grinning at the feel of bare skin. I cupped her breast, and she instinctively pressed her ass back into me, her soft body molding to mine as my cock hardened against her.

I kissed the top of her head, closed my eyes, and after a few minutes drifted off to sleep.

Around eight that morning, my eyes opened to find Vera’s arm draped across my chest, her leg tossed over my thighs. Her robe had come loose in the night, exposing the soft curve of her breasts.

Waking up like this with Vera in my arms was something I used to dream about. After we parted ways all those years ago, I threw myself into the Bratva business because no woman had ever come close to replacing her.

I kissed her forehead, careful not to wake her, then slowly slipped out from beneath her limbs.

After using the bathroom, I figured I’d make her breakfast, but just as I stepped out of her room, my phone buzzed.

An alert from the perimeter system: Back door breach.

“Shit,” I muttered, spinning on my heel.

I darted into my room, grabbed my gun from my safe, and crept through the hallway, weapon raised.

Then I saw them coming towards me. Yegor and Zahkar.

Fuck.

I lowered the gun.

“Where’s Vera?” Yegor asked, stopping a few feet away.

I stared at him coldly. “And why do you think you deserve a fucking answer after you broke into my house?”

“The fuck, Jaroslav, do you take us for idiots?” Zakhar snapped. “Stop stalling and answer the damn question.”

Yegor stepped closer, eyes darkening. “We know Vera’s here. We’re here to take her home.”

I raised my gun again, this time aimed directly at both of them.

“Over my dead body.”