Page 30 of Forced Bratva Bride

“And who made that rule? And even if it was, who says we have to follow all of the rules?” I grin and tilt my head to the side, narrowing my eyes.

“I never was too fond of rules,” she grins back.

“I noticed. You have a knack for disobeying them.” The grin on my face is suggestive, a hint at what happened in the changing room earlier. An image flashes through my mind of how she looked in that bikini.

“Well, perhaps all I needed was for someone to…make me…obey the rules.”

“Mm.” A low growl rumbles through me, as my cock stirs as the idea of making her do things I want her to do.

I pour us each another glass of wine and Chiara giggles at her joke. I chuckle, watching the joy on her face. She seems to be a completely different version of herself tonight. She is relaxed and playful and flirting nonstop. There is no resistance, and her walls are broken down.

Perhaps the wine has gotten to her a little, but she doesn’t seem drunk, not in the slightest. Something has changed, though. I won’t question it—I'm just going to enjoy it.

I have gotten to know more about her tonight than in the entire time we've been married, and the more I know about her, the more I want to know.

“You know, when I was little, my grandmother once made us garlic butter snails and I was absolutely horrified. Literally horrified. I could not have imagined a more disgusting thing to want to eat,” she laughs.

“And? Did you like them this evening? You only ate one.”

“Well, I thought now that I'm all grown up, I should at least try.”

I grin at her, waiting for her verdict.

“I was right; they are horrible.” She laughs loudly, and I shake my head, laughing with her.

“You need to try them again, with a little chili sauce, or pepper. I'll make them for you at home, my way, and you'll see the difference.”

“I think they belong on the list with the liver.”

“No, not a chance. Promise me you will try it when I make it. If you still don’t like them after that, we'll put them on the list with the liver.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Fine, I shall suffer through that promise. Once last chance.”

“Did you enjoy everything else?”

“Everything else was amazing. In fact, I think I ate more than I should have. It was so good, I didn’t want to stop tasting it.”

“Well, I am just happy that you look so happy. This is what I want for you, Chiara.”

She looks at me, her expression shifting, something more serious hidden behind her eyes. For a while, she just watches me, and I stay quiet, letting her thoughts on whatever she's turning over settle.

“Maxim, tonight was special,” she says quietly.

“It was,” I agree.

Just as I am about to lean forward and kiss her, the waiter arrives to clear our plates away.

“Can I get you two anything else? The desert menu, perhaps?”

“I can’t take another bite,” Chiara giggles.

“We are ready to leave. Thank you,” I say to the waiter.

Outside, the driver is waiting, and he opens the door for us as we walk toward the car. We both slide into the back seat.

The city lights, bright and colorful, flash past the window as we head home.

Chiara turns her face toward me, looking relaxed, a cute grin on her face, and her cheeks dimpled in the way I love.

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