Page 14 of Sold to the Russian (Nikolai Bratva Brides #6)

“I still can’t believe it,” Irina laughed out loud behind the passenger seat of Fedya’s car, surprise evident in the blue irises she shared with him. “Fedya Nikolai tries online dating. This is so headline worthy.”

Fedya rolled his eyes at his younger sister. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

Fedya had never gone shopping for any woman before and even though he knew some of the basics, he was inclined to get Maeve the best of anything she needed (whether or not she’d throw them at his face) and the right person for it, the one person he was sure could keep a secret even though he was technically lying to her about the identity of his mystery woman, was no one else than his sister. Irina Nikolai.

His sister, who, of course, barely believed him when he called her earlier that morning to ask for her expertise in women’s shopping, did not accept it until she arrived at the mall and met him there, pushing a half-filled trolley of women’s supplies and staring helplessly at the bra section.

Since he couldn’t tell her the truth about Maeve yet, he stuck with a story he’d cooked up before calling her.

He’d grown bored and tried online dating for the fun of it—Viktor had suggested it once anyway—only to match with an ideal woman.

He took her on a few dates, and they fell into an argument on the last one.

Now, he was trying to appease her for hurting her feelings.

Sitting now, behind the steering wheel of his car, Fedya was mildly relieved that she seemed to believe his cock-and-bull online dating story. Unfortunately for him, though, it cost him an irritatingly constant teasing from her, one that he could barely tolerate but forced himself to.

“But seriously, you couldn’t think flowers or other sweet stuff like that?” Irina asked, digging through the bags of supplies he’d gotten with her help. “Women love that kind of stuff. Not two gigantic packs of sanitary pads—”

“It’s essential.”

“Right, right,” Irina nodded, blowing back a strand of hair from her face.

She dug through the bags again, scrutinizing each of them for a second time.

“It’s the thought that counts, I guess. You’re sure this color works, though?

” she asked, holding up a forest green blouse.

“I’d like to think she’d prefer softer tones, especially since she’s mad at you. ”

Fedya scoffed incredulously. “Are you asking me? What’s your purpose here then?”

Irina waved him off, already used to her brother’s attitude. “I’m just saying.” Then she tossed the top back inside the plastic bag and looked up at Fedya. Out of all their siblings, they looked the least alike, the only thing they shared being the light blue eyes.

“Our brothers don’t know about this, do they?”

“No.”

Irina’s jaw dropped. “Not even Viktor?”

Fedya wasn’t surprised she’d asked that.

Of all his brothers, he and Viktor were the closest. They were only a year apart, with Viktor being the older one, and even though they had contrasting personalities, they shared a bond that only twins had.

Valentina, his oldest brother’s wife, wasn’t wrong when she began referring to them as twins from the moment she met them.

Fedya looked away from her. “I don’t want to jinx it.”

Irina snorted. “And I thought Viktor was the suspicious one.”

“I’m just not ready,” Fedya responded, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.

His gaze was straight ahead, scanning the dull afternoon activity on the street.

He was a far distance from where the safe house was located in the outskirts of the city, but he had to come this far into the heart of the city to avoid raising any suspicions from his sister.

If she didn’t already have one, especially from the way she was arching her brow at him. She was smart, but he liked that she always knew when not to push or dwell too much on an issue.

Fedya glanced at her. “I’m just taking my time with her, that’s all. I don’t want to screw it up.”

“Except you already have and now you’re begging your sister to help you fix it.”

Fedya gave her a sarcastic smile. “Rub it in my face, will you?”

She sighed, resting her back against the plush car seat. “What exactly did you say to piss her off like this?”

Fedya almost smiled at the memory— memories —that flashed through his brain from last night.

His wife was a feisty devil who liked to behave as if she were stronger than she was.

As much as she tested his patience and provoked him, he couldn’t deny that he loved being around her.

It had only been a night, and yet she’d left such a prominent mark on him, one that made him impatient even beside his sister just to get back to her as soon as possible.

She wouldn’t open the door to him this morning, so he left a note next to her breakfast, made sure the safe house was locked and secure in case she tried to sneak out, and dashed into the city.

Fedya didn’t think shopping would take so long, but three hours had flown by, and he was starting to get antsy.

“What didn’t I say?” he shrugged, craning his neck to the side. Sleeping on that goddamn couch was a punishment, but the pain was worth it as long as Maeve got to sleep fine without him. “She’s the type who doesn’t like being pushed. And I may have come on too strong.”

“You?” Irina asked, mock-gasping. “Pushy? That’s a surprise.”

“She’s not like the others,” he said because he meant it.

Maeve was unlike any other woman he’d ever met.

It wasn’t as if he had anything against committing to a relationship and settling down one day.

He’d watched his oldest brother do it, watched his cousins do it.

He knew he’d do it one day, find a good woman and build a family with her.

But not now.

It didn’t matter that he was thirty-four and had never been in an actual, serious relationship.

He didn’t have the time for it. Didn’t think it was necessary at this point in his life.

When it came to women, he didn’t mind the usual casual sex with faceless women whose names he forgot by morning.

So he had never had to deal with them, handle their tantrums, or go out of his way to please them.

And now there was Maeve. Not a girlfriend or a casual fuck, but a wife.

His actual wife.

The circumstances surrounding their marriage didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was the fact that he had a wife now, one that he was legally married to, and he didn’t know one thing in the women’s department that didn’t revolve around sex.

That was another reason he’d sought his sister’s help: not just to help with shopping but to give him actual tips on how to treat a woman, how to treat her right, even if said woman hated him.

Irina caught the shift in his voice and turned towards him, facing him fully like she was about to divulge a secret. Her lips parted hesitantly at first, like she wasn’t sure the words she was about to say were true. But they left her lips anyway.

“You like her.”

Fedya said nothing. Just let the silence fill the space between them as his fingers grazed the pocket of his jeans where a small, velvet case was buried. He’d gotten it before Irina arrived, a replacement of the ring Maeve had so daringly tossed out the window on their way to the safe house.

If she threw this one away, he’d simply get another one. And he wouldn’t stop until she accepted the fact that her finger was made for his ring. For him.

His sister’s voice floated in his head again, even though she was sitting right next to him.

“You like her.” Hearing someone else say that out loud made him feel a bit weird.

He was attracted to her, that was for sure—her skin, her body, the burning hatred in her eyes when she looked at him, the way her lips mouthed words.

He liked her height, the green color of her eyes, and the fiery redness of her hair.

He wanted to fuck her too. Repeatedly. Without stopping.

He wanted to claim her physically, like that was his primary and only purpose.

He wanted to make her surrender to him, to make her beg, but at the same time, he knew deep in his heart that he wouldn’t hesitate to give in to her requests if they came.

He doubted he’d hesitate before sinking to his knees before her.

He knew he felt possessive of her, knew he couldn’t imagine any other man having her.

He knew he thought of her to the point of obsession, to the point where he made up false realities where she actually liked him.

So, yes. Maybe he did like her, though ‘like’ seemed a flimsy word compared to how desperately he craved her.

And how ridiculous it was considering he’d just laid his eyes on this woman four days ago.

His sister grinned now, reading his face as clear as day. “So she really is real, then.”

“I’d know if I took a ghost out on a date.”

“And you still won’t tell me her name.”

“No.”

As usual, she didn’t push. “Well, I don’t know what you guys fought about, but online dating or not, you can’t just barge into her life and expect her to roll over. Especially if she’d had shit in the past that you probably don’t know about.”

Fedya didn’t know the details, but he didn’t need a soothsayer to tell him that Maeve had been unhappy with her life under her father’s roof. He’d sold her off to a stranger after all. His only child.

“She’s ignoring me,” Fedya said, glancing at his watch. Three hours and thirty minutes. “She won’t talk to me.”

“She will,” Irina said confidently. “Give her space. Don’t chase, don’t corner her. And most importantly, quit provoking her. It’s so obvious you’ve never had to work for a woman’s attention.”

Fedya shot her a look. “That’s not my fault.”