Page 29 of Plus-Size Bratva Possession

Elena stood awkwardly at my side, looking around at the displays of diamonds and precious gems. “What are we doing here?” she whispered.

“Pick something,” I told her.

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“Anything you want. Consider it a gift.”

She stared at me like I'd lost my mind. The owner tactfully moved away, giving us space.

“You kidnap me, and now you want to buy me jewelry? What is this, some kind of Stockholm syndrome starter kit?”

I couldn't help the laughter that escaped me. “Come on. This is an innocent, friendly gesture. Choose something you like.”

Elena crossed her arms over her chest. “I don't want your gifts, Gastone.”

“Why not? You're my wife now, aren't you? That's what you told your brothers.”

Her eyes flashed. “That was different. That was to keep the peace.”

“So? Take advantage of the perks.”

She shook her head firmly. “No. I won't be bought.”

I stepped closer to her, lowering my voice. “It's not about buying you, Elena. It's about—” I stopped, not entirely sure myself what it was about.

“About what?” she challenged.

Making you happy? Making you hate me less? I couldn't bring myself to say either.

“Forget it,” I said finally. “Let's go.”

The relief on her face was immediate. “Thank you.”

We left the store, returning to the sidewalk. The awkwardness between us had shifted into something else, something less hostile but equally confusing.

“That was unexpected,” she said after a moment.

“What was?”

“You listening to me.” She glanced at me sideways. “Most men in your position would have been offended and taken it as a sign of rejection.”

I shrugged. “Maybe I'm not like most men.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “Maybe you're not.”

We walked back to my waiting car in comfortable silence. The drive back was similar, with Elena humming under her breath.

When we reached back home, I punched in the new code, making no effort to hide it from her. It seemed pointless now; she'd already proven she could escape if she wanted to.

Inside, Elena turned to face me. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “For the coffee. And the walk.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. There was something about her genuine gratitude that left me feeling off-balance.

“I'm still angry that you broke out,” I said after a moment.

“I know.” She smiled, and this time there was no mockery in it. “But I came back, didn't I?”

She had. She could have called her brothers, could have run, but instead, she'd sat in that café, waiting. Almost as if she'd wanted me to find her.