Page 15 of The Bratva’s Arranged Virgin Bride (Fokin Bratva #8)

I barely made it back to my bedroom, feeling like I’d been thrown over a cliff. Another second of having Nat in my arms, her lips on mine, and I would have taken her right then and there on the kitchen table. That I would not do. It wasn’t just that she was so young and innocent.

I still wasn’t sure of her motives. Where she used to be like an open book to me, now she was hiding something.

I could still tell when she outright lied because she was horrible at it, but I wanted to know why she’d pissed off her family so badly to be the one to meet me at the end of the aisle.

It couldn’t be as simple as her being unable to bear the thought of me being with another woman, even though my ego might have loved that.

I wanted her much too badly for her not to feel the same.

As long as I suspected she had ulterior motives, she was off the table, literally.

And off the bed, not that she’d find her way back here on her own.

She was probably already hiding in her guest room, seething about why her plan to twist me around her little finger didn’t work out.

Let her come to me begging for more if that was what she wanted. Though that might be a very cold day in hell.

After an icy shower, I was able to think straight again, though knowing Nat was in the same house made it difficult.

Firing up my laptop, I worked on the new gallery, my latest hobby, to take my mind off real business.

The art scheme would rake in a lot of money, but it was still nothing more than a distraction from more boring, necessary work.

For the most part, it was going well, except for a few small wrinkles that needed to be smoothed out.

It was certain to work out fine, better than any other gallery I’d set up in the past, since so many people in this city were obsessed with status.

Having the best things. Things their friends and neighbors couldn’t get.

My artists were already hard at work slapping together those elusive, one-of-a-kind pieces that they’d be tripping over themselves to pay top dollar for.

Maybe it was crazy to set up this scam in a place I wanted to settle, and if Arkadi knew about it, he’d blow his top, but he was the last thing on my mind at the moment. As well as Nat’s family, who probably wished me dead even more than she did.

If she still did?

I pulled up my graphics program and began designing posters for the new gallery opening.

I was never quite happy with my work, always adding or taking something away, adjusting colors and sizes.

It had been a while since I had done anything artistic, and despite the futility of chasing perfection, it soothed the tension of the day away bit by bit as I planned a rough first design.

I didn’t get a chance to indulge much in just messing around with colors and shapes, too busy trying to build a bridge to my brother as well as building an empire.

Ultimately, I wasn’t worried about the posters or the opening, no matter how I fussed over them like a favorite child.

I’d always had great luck with the scheme before—well, not always, but I knew what went wrong the last time.

I got too involved with the pretty curator.

There was no chance of that happening this time because I wasn’t letting Nat anywhere near this new operation.

An annoying buzzing I’d been working hard to block out finally made me slam the computer shut.

I had been ignoring my phone all day, not giving a shit what any of the Fokins had to say to me since everything had been cleared with the head honcho.

Even if Matvey had been left in charge, Aleks’s word was still law from thousands of miles away.

He had given his very begrudging blessing to Nat’s and my union, so why waste my time reading their curses or listening to their shouted messages?

Now it was going off like something important might be happening, and I found it where I discarded it on the bedside table. I swiped away all the older messages I was expecting from Nat’s furious family and got to the most recent one from my nightclub manager.

It didn’t seem to be too big of a deal, but I should probably put in an appearance, not wanting anyone to get the wrong idea that I didn’t watch over what was mine. If someone who meant trouble was sniffing around my place, I’d let them know in a hurry that they were wasting their time.

Quickly changing, I went in search of my new bride, quickly finding her camped out in the guest room I’d had to lock her in before. I noticed with a smile that she had found a toolbox somewhere and had dismantled the doorknob so it would no longer lock from the outside.

Clever and capable, my wife.

After a brisk knock, I opened it before she had a chance to invite me in.

I was setting a precedent, and one look at her grouchy face told me she knew it.

Lounging on her bed with a magazine from the media room, she wore a plush white robe, probably one that had been put there by the person who stocked the house with necessities before she moved in.

Her long legs were smooth as silk and called to me to run my fingers up under the thick, terry cloth fabric. As soon as she noticed where my gaze was settled, she whipped her legs close to her, tucking the robe around her ankles like a prim Victorian maiden.

“How about a night on the town?” I asked. “I don’t think you’ve ever been to my club.”

It was a struggle for her to keep her sour look. The mention of the club perked her right up, and she couldn’t help but agree. She always did love her nightlife.

“But I don’t have anything to wear,” she said, pointing to the open closet where her dress was hanging on the door hook. “Except for my wedding dress.”

I smiled at the sarcasm in her voice. For a wedding dress, for any occasion, the dress was simple, but it looked fantastic on her, all the same, hugging every rich curve of her luscious figure.

“That’ll be fine. You’re so gorgeous, you’d shine in anything. Wear the robe if you’d like.”

Her eyes brightened at my sincere compliment, but the crack about the robe made her scowl. “Get out, I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

I raised my brow at her imperious tone to hide how much I liked it. Too much. I was on the verge of joining her on the bed and ridding her of the robe myself. Then her face crumpled, and her shoulders slumped.

“I wonder if I should be seen out with you, though,” she said slowly. “I don’t know if my uncles will like it.”

I sighed. “The whole point of this arranged marriage was to let the world know about our family alliance. Why do you care, anyway? You don’t have to answer to them anymore.”

It almost seemed like she liked that for a second until she looked at me with a challenge in her eyes. “Who do I answer to, then?”

I only chuckled and left the room so she could change.

We took a driver so I could send a few messages on the way to the club and give my attention fully to Nat once I was done. She practically clung to the door on her side of the car, staring pointedly out the window at the dark ocean until we turned onto the highway heading into town.

Conversation was once again impossible, and I finally told her that I didn’t actually spend my valuable time having her every move tracked. “Despite what you might think, I’m actually asking you these questions because I’m interested in you, Nat. You’re my wife now, after all.”

I didn’t remind her that it was her choice, but it hung in the air between us.

“You’re right,” she said, somewhat stiffly. “I’m just used to being overly paranoid, I guess. What made you seek out this arrangement in the first place?”

“On the contrary, it was your people who contacted me. I was just going about my business.”

“In LA,” she said.

“It’s a great city with lots of opportunities.”

“Mmhm.”

“Should I have called you up and asked you out on a date instead?” I asked. Her head whipped around to stare at me in disbelief, and I raised my shoulders, all innocence. Which I was, as far as she was concerned. Well, in this matter, anyway.

“How could I have ever known it would be you in that chapel this morning? Answer me that.”

“You couldn’t have known,” she admitted. “Nobody knew but me.”

“Now ask me if I’m glad about it,” I said.

But we were already pulling up to the valet in front of my club, and she didn’t have time to recover from that little surprise attack.

There was a private entrance around back that would have been easier and more private, but I didn’t want easy and private.

As I took my bride’s hand firmly in mine, we swept past the long line snaking around the corner.

The photographers I’d arranged snapped picture after picture, and I was confident that all of Los Angeles would soon know that the important new businessman in town was with the daughter of the most powerful mob family in the state.

There was no need to pause at the door, but I did anyway, greeting the head bouncer and putting my arm around Nat’s shoulders.

Some of the photographers actually called her name, like she was a celebrity, which she probably was in her own right, despite the low-key life she led.

It was impossible not to know who the Fokins were; they owned half of California, and she was the heiress of the head of the family.

It didn’t matter that she wore a simple linen dress when all the other women in the line wore skin-tight, black, and sparkling outfits.

They were the ones who felt out of place now that they’d seen my little princess.

I swelled with pride as we finally made our way in, bypassing the crush with the aid of another bouncer who cleared a path.

It was easy to see that Nat was irritated about the photographers, but the pulsing beat soon made her forget about them.

She tugged my hand toward the dance floor, eager to lose herself in the music.

In Milan, I had loved watching how carefree she was when she danced, but now the thought of any other man grinding up on her made me grind my teeth.

The first one who got too close to my wife was going to regret it, and I wasn’t in the mood to break any skulls that evening.

The fierce burst of possessiveness surprised me, but she was mine now, after all. Only mine.

Once she was settled in my special VIP corner booth and surrounded by guards, I settled the small problem with the manager and hurried back to her.

She looked lonely and annoyed with an ignored drink on the table in front of her.

As soon as I swept past the guards and sent them somewhere they couldn’t be seen, she perked up a little.

I grabbed her drink and took a gulp, handing it to her to do the same.

Her smile nearly knocked me back in the padded booth.

The light was more subtle up here, but the strobes from the dance floor still made their way into our sanctuary, flashing across her beautiful face to tease me with just glimpses of her.

“The music is great,” she shouted over the noise. “The whole place is.”

We’d gone to just about every club in Milan, and I knew she was no stranger to the nightlife in her hometown, so it was high praise. I grinned down at her, telling her we had a surprise celebrity DJ coming on at midnight.

“We should stay,” she said happily, grooving in her seat.

I was about to suggest that we dance together and order the guards to clear a space outside our booth when several large shadows fell across our table, blocking the blinking white strobe lights.

Nat gasped, eyes wide as she shrank away from me, all the liveliness sucked out of her. I turned to see her cousin Matvey and her two incredibly pissed-off uncles muscling past my security with looks of murder on their faces.