Page 35 of Owned Bratva Bride

He seemed so real and ordinary, so different from the storm of a criminal I knew him to be. Not the heartless villain in bespoke suits. That simple realization flickered something to life inside me. Something I didn’t have a name for.

I observed Eduard’s long fingers as they moved effortlessly. The parts of my waist that those fingers touched a few nights ago tingled with memory.

It upset me that my body seemed to betray me.

He was still Eduard, the man who abducted me.

I swallowed, realizing I had been standing there for a while.

Heart unsteady, pulse racing, I hurried back to my room. But even as I left the room, I couldn’t escape the fact that watching him play pulled me back to the piano. And, even more frustrating, it pulled me tohim.

Chapter 8 – Eduard

I knew she was there.

I didn’t stop playing.

I couldn’t bring myself to turn around; my body already acknowledged her presence too much for my liking. The moment she stepped between the crack of the double doors, my peripheral vision caught her.

I had expected her to turn around the moment she saw me playing. The opposite was what she did. She stood there, as if the sound was so enticing. And I couldn’t deny that it began to feel like I was playing for her. Like I wanted her to actually enjoy the music.

It was maddening.

She wasn’t supposed to have access to these parts of the house at all. In fact, I should have asked for her to be sent to another property, anywhere but my primary residence. But, instead, I asked my men to unlock her room and give her access to the estate’s common rooms. My stated reason had been that it would be easier to manage her movement that way.

When she eventually left, I told myself I didn’t feel it. That it had no effect on me whatsoever.

But it did.

I kept playing without faltering, but her face was already etched in my mind. I didn’t stop playing, willing the sound to accompany her back to her room.

When I had played to my satisfaction, I stood up and stepped away from the piano.

Now I would never touch the piano without seeing her face, softened by something that looked like wonder, pressed against the door.

***

Getting to the warehouse just after dawn was not an option; my day was packed with activities. While I was never the type to complain about tight schedules, I particularly relished them these days. They gave me much-needed moments of normalcy, away from Marielle.

“Boss! Good morning, Boss!” my men greeted as I entered the warehouse, heading straight to the back.

I pushed the metal door open, getting the attention of the two men standing at the center of the room.

“Good morning, Boss,” they chorused.

I moved my pointed forefinger to the side, signaling for them to step aside.

The guy strapped to a chair looked up at me, large beads of sweat dripping down his face. From where I stood, I could see the head of the other guy whose chair faced the opposite side.

“So…you both are the daredevils. The dogs bold enough to enter my den.”

“We didn’t do anything! Do you own the port?” the guy facing me retorted, earning a slap that turned his head to the side from one of my men.

I tutted, facing the guy who slapped him.

“He’s right. After all, he doesn’t know who I am.”

I moved closer to the conjoined chairs, bending lower to be eye-level with the guy who spoke.