Page 75 of Owned Bratva Bride

But I could be nice in the most basic way. Just as he was to me. He was committed to his promise of keeping me safe, after all.

But even that became hard after he came at me like he wanted to devour me—then he stepped back. Reliving the moment made me feel worse than I’d ever like to admit. It felt like he was bent on making me feel small.

So I made more efforts to stay out of his way.

***

“Well, it wouldn’t make any difference. I’m alwaysalone, anyway,” I lashed out at Eduard.

He wasn’t huffing like I was, but I could feel the anger beneath his level stare.

“Why is it so important for you to go out when I can ask them to bring dresses for you to choose from?” he inquired.

I shrugged. “It’s just what I want to do. You just dropped this ‘event’ on me while you’ve known about it for weeks. Why should I do whatyouwant?”

“It’s not safe for you to be out and about just yet.”

The pained resignation in his tone got to me.

“Your men would be driving. They can come into the store, as long as they won’t be following us into the changing rooms,” I pointed out.

He moved to the nightstand on his side of the bed and returned with a sleek black card.

“Don’t be out too long,” he uttered, giving me the card.

Then he left the room.

I didn’t waste any time sharing my shopping plans with Agatha.

So, in less than an hour, Ruslan was driving to the area where Agatha was sure the classiest boutiques were in.

“Oh, Ruslan, you’re coming with us?” Agatha asked, looking over her shoulder as he followed us into the massive store.

“Boss’s orders,” he answered, a small smirk on his face.

“Obsessed with keeping his dearest safe,” Agatha crooned into my ears.

“Jeez! Is every notion sweet to you? I’m sure you’d make a similar remark about him strapping me to his bed,” I remarked.

“Depends on the context. I mean, if he wants you to take all the pleasure until you beg him to stop…” she prattled, her voice low.

“Agatha!” I cut in, laughing. “Sometimes I can’t believe you’re a mother and not a teenager.”

“I didn’t make those lovely kids by reading books or cooking,” she replied, an unrepentant grin on her face.

That reminded me of Kat, my darling friend, who was having the time of her life in Spain.

“Enough of your depravity. We’re here to shop.”

We wandered the long aisles of first-lady category dresses. They were gorgeous, but they all seemed to be for older women. The type of woman who would wear a beige dinner gown. Definitely not me. And, considering she hadn’t gotten any dress to call my attention to, Agatha thought the same thing.

We turned a corner, and the colors started popping all around us.

“Aha! We’re in the right place,” Agatha enthused, bringing out a black sequined dress.

I examined it for a second.

“Let me try it on.”