Page 19 of Forced Bratva Bride

“Good morning,” I say, nodding towards Chiara, and then, after a brief hesitation, lean down and kiss her cheek.

Darya carries on the conversation from where they left off, as casually as ever, and slowly we all become a little more relaxed.

She is right. I should get to know my wife in person instead of through the camera. She is a beauty to look at; her smile and her laugh keep me fully focused on her.

I find myself enjoying the morning and decide that I will definitely try and have lunch and dinner with Chiara every day.

After Darya leaves, Chiara turns to me, an awkward smile on her face.

“I am going to my room for a bit, to read.”

“Sure, I hope you have a good book? I can have anything you need ordered?”

“No, I have a good book, thank you.”

She turns to walk away.

“Chiara. Before you go, would you like to join me for dinner tonight? There's a lovely restaurant that makes the most amazing seafood—do you like seafood?”

She shifts her weight. “Yes, that sounds nice, thanks.”

I nod, awkwardly.

She smiles tightly. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Later.”

She walks away from me, and I watch her body as it sways.

My phone rings loudly in my pocket, pulling my attention from her and the thoughts I was about to get lost in.

“Paval, how are you?”

“Good, and you?”

“Things are going well,” I say.

“Kiril and I wondered if you had any updates for us. Regarding information, you know.”

“Nothing yet, but I'm working on it.”

“Alright, well, please do, because we need to find out what's going on.”

“I know. I'll be in touch soon.”

I feel guilty when I hang up the phone, knowing that I have not been properly focused on the entire plan. I have to step up my game. Spending more time with her will help me do that.

At seven o'clock that evening, Chiara walks down the stairs toward me, wearing a gorgeous tight black dress that shows off her beautiful long legs in taunting ways.

“I’m ready,” she says politely.

Outside, I hold the car door open for her, then climb into the back seat next to her. The driver takes off toward the city, and we sit silently in the back. The tension feels awkward, but what feels worse is the heat from her body and the way her leg brushes against mine. I want to run my hand up her thigh and slip my fingers beneath that short skirt of hers.

“How have you been enjoying your new home? Are you settling in alright?”

“Yes, thank you,” she replies, looking out of the window.

Dinner at the restaurant is good because it's nice to get out of the house with her, but at the same time, she's quite cold towards me, keeping a distance, and conversation doesn't flow naturally since she keeps her answers short. She seems wary of me and refuses to open up, not the way I saw her chatting away to Darya, and it disappoints me.

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