Page 14 of The Bratva’s Arranged Virgin Bride (Fokin Bratva #8)

I sputtered with embarrassment at the easy defeat Kolya served me. Was he kidding? All that to prove a point? We must have been playing for close to an hour, and I had been riding high with each clever move I made while dodging his probing questions.

I felt like I was clever back then, too. A part of the scheme instead of just one of Kolya’s marks. It had been a whole lot of fun, but it had cost me everything because I had trusted a liar and a cheat. More than trusted him.

Now, he was making me a sandwich.

The kitchen was fully stocked as he had promised, and he had offered to grill me a steak, heat up the roasted chicken, or make me an omelet. Whatever I preferred. It seemed to give him so much actual happiness in acting like a chef at a private table, eager to show off his culinary skills.

That was why I told him a sandwich would be fine.

I sat at the cozy round table and watched as he pulled ingredients out of the huge stainless-steel fridge.

While the beach house itself wasn’t overly large, the modern kitchen dominated half the ground floor.

As a student in Milan, I had neither the time nor the inclination to cook for myself, especially when I had fabulous restaurants offering fresh pasta just a short walk from my apartment.

But I did love to eat, that was for sure.

While he pulled out the roasted chicken and began thinly slicing pieces, chose the perfect loaf of whole grain bread from the pantry, and even mixed up a fresh batch of mayo, I realized I was going to end up with a gourmet meal after all.

My empty stomach was happy about it, but I forced a scowl onto my face as he finally presented the work of art to me on a hand-thrown pottery plate.

There was even a little side salad of baby greens and radishes.

Did he remember I liked radishes? I sure did remember him teasing me that they were just about the most disgusting vegetable on earth, and the first person who tried one must have been desperately starving to go back for a second bite.

His own sandwich was also piled high with sliced chicken, and as soon as I was served, he sat down and bit into it with gusto.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his mouth.

A little seed from the whole-grain bread clung to his bottom lip, and I was transfixed as his tongue darted out to lick it away.

He smiled at me around his mouthful, urging me to take a bite of mine.

“You watched me the whole time,” he teased. “There was no chance for me to add poison. I know you don’t count the radishes.”

So, he did remember. I couldn’t help but smile. I wanted this, the chance to work my way into his heart so I could crush it. There was no reason to keep pouting just because he’d tricked me into thinking I could beat him at chess.

As soon as I took a bite, he leaned close, watching me like a hawk. “Why did you really marry me?” He demanded. “Remember, I can read you like a book.”

I only shrugged, savoring my bite of the sandwich before answering. Maybe what he said was true enough, but the whole time he had been kicking my butt at chess, I’d been doing what he inadvertently told me I needed to do.

Think ahead.

It was true that he had always been good at figuring out what I was thinking, but that was back when I believed we were on the same side.

I no longer had such delusions. It was also true that I probably couldn’t outright lie to him without being instantly called out, but I figured that my conflicting emotions might come in handy if I leaned into them instead of fighting them.

It disgusted me that I still wanted this swine of a man, but I did. That wasn’t a lie and couldn’t be called out. And when he had me in his arms, everything faded away except what I wanted him to do.

I hated it, but there it was. I hated him more, and it would only help me achieve my goal.

After I swallowed the delicious bite, I leaned closer, closing my eyes as if I were reminiscing. “After everything, I really did find myself missing you. I’ve been trying to find you.”

I opened my eyes. He believed me, because it was true. Maybe not for the reasons he thought, but he wasn’t asking that. He was asking why I married him.

“So you wanted me?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said simply, not feeling the need to expound. Once again, it wasn’t for the reason he thought. Not solely, anyway.

He scoffed. “Did you think a Fokin princess like yourself would ever be allowed to be with someone like me?”

“I’m glad you realize what you are,” I said, unable to hide the bitterness oozing out from behind my facade.

He only laughed and reached to touch my face. “We could have never been together.”

What was he saying? Was there regret in his eyes?

“And yet, here we are, married.”

Wow, that was thrilling, and such a great line. What a comeback. I was proud of myself for not being swayed, even when the slightest glance of his fingers made me tingle all over. He was definitely swayed by it, and looking at me in such a way, I didn’t have much fight left.

I felt myself being drawn in, letting myself become fully immersed. I was playing a part. Wasn’t I?

He dropped his hand from my cheek and leaned back in his chair, ignoring his unfinished sandwich.

My stomach was in knots, but I also leaned back.

He watched me as I continued to eat as if I wasn’t burning up in so many different ways.

I could just as easily lunge across the table and stab him with a fork as I could jump on him to kiss him.

Really, either one would have been fine.

I finally put my sandwich down and looked up. When our eyes met, he looked disconcerted for a split second. Anyone who didn’t know him like I did might have missed it. I must have looked positively feral, because right now I was the victorious one. I had him. After all this time, I had him.

I was ready to have some fun while I broke him down into little pieces. Why shouldn’t I? I deserved it after the misery he put me through. I was back to the way I was, never really myself when we were together. I always felt freer, more alive, and it was no different now.

“I still want you,” I said, barely above a whisper. Not a lie.

I waited, heart thumping out of my chest, throat dry, my body straining toward him as I held myself still. Waiting to see how he’d respond.

He shoved his chair back and reached for mine, dragging it closer until our legs touched. He spread his, pulling me between them, his hand tangling in my hair. Tugging my head back, he claimed my mouth with his.

Finally. Finally, I was feeling his lips crash against mine. He took his time, slowly and sinuously kissing me as his free hand moved to my waist. Palm splayed, he moved it up my side as his tongue played at the edges of my mouth.

I opened it with a sigh, reaching for him as his thumb brushed the bottom of my breast. I felt heavy, sleepy, but wide awake, urgent but languid, all at the same time. Like he turned me to liquid, and I melted against his chest.

His hand was still in my hair, and he released his rough grip to slide it down to the back of my neck. The heat of it, as he pushed me deeper into our kiss, had me gasping, clutching at him. He was in total control, and all I could do was respond and hang on. And enjoy every second of it all.

Now, the hand at my side was moving lower, and I squirmed in my chair, wanting to crawl into his lap and press my aching core against him.

I wore the dress I chose for the wedding ceremony, a simple aqua wrap dress that had been left behind by Mila on a visit during happier times.

He worked his hand down my thighs, pressed tightly together between his open legs, and slid the front part of the fabric aside.

I shivered as he teased his fingertips down the length of my thigh and back up again, moving even more fabric out of the way to expose the triangle of my panties. His other hand tightened around my neck, his tongue commanding my mouth.

Gripping his shirt, I tried to pull myself closer, making small, needy sounds as he kissed me so deeply I was almost consumed. I was just about to wriggle one of my legs free and hoist it over his to drag myself into his lap, but as quickly as he’d pulled me close, he now shoved away.

I was stunned, my body almost sagging now that I didn’t have him to cling to.

I sat alone, my lips swollen and tingling, the skirt of my dress shoved open to expose my entire lower half.

My head whipped up after tugging the fabric back over my pale legs, to see he was in complete control of himself.

Okay, maybe not complete control. My eyes dropped low to see the throbbing bulge against the front of his pants. But his hands were steady, unlike mine, as he stood and looked down at me with a smug smile that made me forget the bliss he’d just given me.

“Nat?” he said, not really a question. I was still so stunned I could hardly register the anger that was slowly welling to take the place of the lust he so expertly drove me to.

“What?” I asked, thinking this had to be part of the game. He wanted me, it was plain as day. Why did he stop?

The smile widened as he turned away. “You’re still not thinking ahead.”