Page 66 of Owned Bratva Bride

Our marriage was one of utter inconvenience—a necessity to save my life. It didn’t exactly follow the meet, fall in love, go down on one knee, and live happily forever narrative.

It was a unique standard in and of itself, just like Eduard.

Thinking of which, I had braced myself for a far-reaching claiming by him, but he surprised me by keeping some sort of distance. Instead of tearing into me and invading my space as my new husband, he let me stew before and during the whole court wedding process. Not that he totally stayed away, though. Still, I was surprised.

After all, he’s a criminal authority; he must be used to just taking whatever he wants.

I looked over to his side of the bed, only to find an empty space.

Of course, he was at work, wherever that was.

A soft shudder moved through my body as I remembered the kiss we shared last night.

Our first kiss.

Which shouldn’t mean anything, considering we weren’t really a couple. But it did.

The hunger and want he poured into the kiss was undeniable. I loved the feel of his hand on my waist, the hardness of his body against mine as his tongue explored.

And he said he would wait before making love to me.

Even men of moral standing wouldn’t have any reason to wait after marriage. What kind of crime boss waited for ‘when the time is right?’

Freshening up in his bathroom was a lavish experience. I felt like a highly valued guest in a seven-star hotel; the fittings beat those of the former room I occupied, hands down. From the gray double sinks that sat atop sturdy drawers to the massive bath and the shower with a Jacuzzi I wasn’t sure I knew how to operate, the white-walled bathroom was high-class.

As I found my way to the kitchen, I noticed that the guards who used to look me square in the face, including Ruslan, now lowered their gaze. It was like I had become bigger overnight.

Another good thing that comes with being associated with a powerful man, I guess.

I loved the new feel of power. It made me feel less invisible.

I felt like I had something that made them look away instead of staring or even challenging me.

I felt dangerous.

Like I should not be crossed. And I loved every bit of it.

It was a feeling I wouldn’t want to do away with.

“Good morning, Mrs. Yezhov,” Sofia practically sang as she set eyes on me at the kitchen entrance.

I was about to respond when Agatha joined her across the island.

“Good morning, latest bride,” she greeted, beaming.

“Good morning. Can we stop with the titles and all? I’m still every bit of the Marielle you saw yesterday.” Remembering ‘yesterday’ was, in fact, my wedding day, I added, “Or the day before.”

“Not allowed, Mrs. Yezhov,” Sofia remarked, carrying a full tray toward the refrigerator.

“I’ve heard you,” Agatha replied, her voice lowering, “So, how was it?”

“What? You were at the courthouse with us, weren’t you?”

“Last night,” she clarified.

“Oh,” I muttered, my chuckle not sounding dismissive enough.

Why are my cheeks heating up right now?