Page 73 of Owned Bratva Bride

“Eduard!” I heard Marielle call.

“How dare you?! She’s my wife. If you as much as look at her again, you’ll be underground before you can blink,” I seethed before standing up straight.

“Sorry, man. I didn’t mean anything. Sorry,” he apologized through swollen, bloody lips.

“Eduard!” Marielle called again, coming over to where I stood. “What the hell?!”

If she had walked over to apologize to the guy, I would have ended his life in the club, but she didn’t. Her glare was on me instead.

“Let’s go,” I instructed.

She went ahead of me, pissed.

I was pissed, too.

I wasn’t a thug or street urchin who threw hands at clubs. But I couldn’t even stop to think because she was involved.

It’s always her.

***

It was five days after I took Marielle with me to a Bratva meeting—and we were on our way to another one.

“What’s that? It looks recent,” she asked, her voice soft.

I turned to the side to see what she was gesturing at.

It was the scar that snaked up my wrist from the pad of my thumb.

I hadn’t expected her to talk to me at all, but here she was, asking about my scar with genuine interest.

“It was last month or so,” I casually revealed, my eyes searching hers.

“What happened?” she questioned gingerly.

“It was a robbery. Some highway robbers thought we were ordinary drug dealers. Poured nails to deflate our tires and bombarded us. It was a bit rough since they were heavily armed, and we were outnumbered. But we fought our way through. Killed them all.”

Her eyes squinted a bit, like the thought of me being in pain did something to her. Watching her reaction did something tome.

She cleared her throat, breaking the silence.

“I never noticed it,” she revealed.

Without thinking, I blurted, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” she muttered before looking to the other side, her attention on the window.

I was torn.

I wanted her to keep noticing things about me and continue talking to me. I liked how easily conversation flowed between us. I wanted her to fill my ears with her excited laughter. Hell, I wanted her to smile at me.

But I also had to stay away because doing otherwise was dangerous. I had to pull back.

It was just hard.

***

I had entered our bedroom without expecting to see Marielle since it was still pretty early in the evening.