Page 15 of Plus-Size Bratva Possession (Vadim Bratva #12)

My cheeks burned, but I held my ground, tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. “I'm not done talking to you—”

“Take your hand off her,” a low voice growled, and suddenly Gastone was there, his face a mask of cold fury.

Mark let go of my arm immediately, taking a step back. “Hey man, this is between me and her.”

Gastone moved in front of me, his back to me as he faced Mark. “No, it's not. Not anymore.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Mark demanded, though I noticed he'd taken another step back.

“Her husband,” Gastone said, his voice deadly quiet. “And when my wife tells you she's not interested, you walk away. You certainly don’t insult her.”

Mark's face paled slightly as Gastone flexed his muscles. “Whatever, man. She's not worth it anyway.”

Gastone moved so quickly I barely registered it—one second, he was in front of me, the next he had Mark by the throat, pushing him backward.

The people around us scattered, giving them a wide berth.

“Apologize,” Gastone said, his face inches from Mark's.

“I'm sorry,” Mark choked out, his eyes wide with fear. “I'm sorry, okay?”

Gastone didn't let go. “Not to me. To her. To my wife.”

The way he said wife, with such authority, made my toes curl. I didn’t know why.

“I..I’m sorry…” Mark gasped, his eyes flickering to me, and then he went back to Gastone. “I swear, I didn't see a ring—”

“I don’t care about that,” Gastone cut him off. “The point is, you thought it was okay to insult a woman because she rejected you. That makes you what, exactly?”

“An asshole,” Mark admitted, his face reddening from lack of oxygen. “I'm an asshole.”

“At least we agree on something.” Gastone released him suddenly, causing Mark to stumble.

“Now get out of my sight before I remember how to use my fists.”

Mark didn't need to be told twice. He hurried away, disappearing into the crowd.

I stood there, breathing hard. I hated that I needed rescuing, but I couldn't deny the relief I felt at Gastone coming when I needed him most. Something told me Mark wouldn’t have just left.

Gastone turned to me, his eyes soft as they met mine. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” I said, lifting my chin. “I could have handled it myself.”

His lips quirked in a half-smile. “I know you could have. But why should you have to?”

I didn't have a good answer for that. We stood there on the edge of the dance floor, the music pulsing around us.

“You didn't have to choke him,” I said finally.

Gastone growled, his eyes still dark with anger. “The nerve of that prick, talking to you like that.”

“It happens,” I shrugged, trying to play it off even as something inside me twisted painfully.

“It shouldn't,” Gastone said firmly. “And for the record, he's an idiot. Your weight isn't something to be picked on—you're beautiful. Stunning, actually, in that dress. And… otherwise.”

For some strange reason, I felt vulnerable. I knew I was beautiful, and I had never doubted that, but hearing it from Gastone with such protective force just hit me differently. For some reason, I liked hearing it from him. For some reason, I found myself wishing to know what else he thought of me.

And that scared the hell out of me. Whatever did it mean? Did I…like him?

“Thank you,” I said softly, as he still stared at me like I was the most beautiful woman in this room. Our eyes locked, and for a moment, we were back in that dressing room, that same electric tension sparking between us. I cleared my throat and looked away first.

To do something, anything, I started to move to the beat, determined to salvage my night, to prove I wasn't affected by that encounter or by Gastone's unexpected kindness.

I hadn't expected him to stay there, but suddenly he was dancing too. Out of habit, I was ready to tell him to back off, that I wanted to dance alone, but the words died in my throat when I saw his face.

He wasn't pushing, wasn't demanding. He was just... there. Dancing near me, giving me space but staying close enough that other men kept their distance.

His movements were good, surprisingly fluid, and despite my reservations, I found my body responding to his, my hips swaying in time with his.

For some reason, we just clicked.

The crowd forced us closer, until there was barely any space between us. I could see the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the crinkle around his eyes with that permanent, slow smile.

Just then, someone pushed into my back and I stumbled forward.

My body went flush against Gastone’s as he gripped my shoulders to steady me.

And that's when I felt it. His erection, hard and unmistakable against my hip.

My eyes widened, my heart hammered in my chest, my skin suddenly too hot, too sensitive.

I stood frozen in his arms, breathless from a pulse of desire steaming through me.

What was happening to me? This was Gastone.

So why did part of me want to press closer, to see just how far this attraction could go?

The music swelled around us, and for a moment, we were suspended in time. Neither of us moved, and the world itself seemed to stop still.