Page 46 of The Bratva's Auctioned Bride

The realization annoys me more than anything. I miss the island and the adventures it offers. Anyone would. But the thing I miss the most is him.

That annoying, arrogant, bossy, charming, sexy as all hell, gorgeous, smiling man who drove me crazy in more ways than I can count.I miss him.

And I miss that wild, passionate, insanely good sex.

My body refuses to let me forget it, and every night, alone in bed, I’ve been playing with myself to try and ease the tension.But it’s not helping. I want him. I want his body against mine and his dark, dangerous words filled with delicious warnings.

I want to be a good girl for him.

What a stupid thought, Angelika. Grow up. Pull yourself together.

I let out another agitated growl into my pillow, bordering on an outright scream.

“Sheesh, do you have PMS or something?” Stefania says, making me jump as she walks into my room.

“Ugh, I’m so bored I want to die,” I groan, rolling onto my back.

“Tell me about it,” she sighs, flopping down onto the bed next to me. Lying on her back, both of us staring at the white ceiling.

White walls. White marble floors. White ceiling.

“Do you think I should paint the walls pink?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

“What has gotten into you?” she laughs.

“I’m serious. Why is everything so white? It’s clinical. No wonder I feel insane.”

“I think you have post-holiday blues. No one goes to a place like Barbados and comes back feeling ok with their life,” she muses, rolling onto her stomach and propping her chin on her hands.

“Girl, I have to take you there one day. That place is like another world. It’s so… free. Everything is beautiful. And everything is new. The ocean is different. The air is different. The people. Wow. They’re all so friendly and relaxed.”

“Yep, post-holiday blues. That’s what’s wrong with you.” She nods.

I laugh, rolling my eyes.

“You’re probably right. I went from an island to a white cell,” I groan, gesturing around my room.

“What about Diomid Abashin?” she asks, her tone suggestive.

“What about him?” I say too quickly.

“He’s really hot,” she whispers.

“Stef, he’s an Abashin. That would be weird.”

“Oh please, don’t even try and tell me you didn’t perv him the whole time. A girl is allowed to look, you know.”

Giggling, I shake my head. “You need to get out more.”

She scoffs and playfully pushes my shoulder. “Like to Barbados, with a guy so hot I’d let him have all my babies,” she says, laughing.

“Stop it, our brothers will have your head on a plate if they hear you talking like that. We’ll never be allowed in public again.”

“True,” she says, pressing her lips together.

Stef pushes off the bed and stretches her arms over her head. “I’m going to make grilled cheese. Do you want some? It’s only one, dinner is far away, and I’m getting hungry.”

“Yes, I need something to do before I jump out of that window to end this misery.”