Page 14 of The Bratva King's Pregnant Bride

Oh god, I had slept with not just a criminal, who happened to be the leader of the Russian Mafia, but he also happened to be seventeen years older than me. Fear uncoiled inside me like a snake, and all my principles of higher standards, my aspirations to be a law student, my dreams of fighting crime and criminals, and my white-knuckled grip on staunch righteousness—they all came crumbling down to nothing.

For someone who studied criminal justice, I’d been really stupid, hadn’t I? I should have realized who he was. I should have suspected something when I saw all those tattoos.

Every bit of me recoiled in horror. Really, it was like a punch to the gut. I was the last person on earth who should’ve been tangled up with a criminal—let alone a crime family. I hated every bit of injustice down to its root… yet I had spent the night with, not just anyone in the crime world or even Mafia, but its actual leader.

Disgust, hate, disbelief, and confusion all seemed to have come over me at once, dressed in shades of different colors.

I put a hand to my head, realizing that I had, indeed, stepped into a world I knew nothing about, a world that demanded more than I’d ever bargained for.

Jenna, oblivious to my internal meltdown, leaned back with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Well, if you’ve slept with a mob boss, you’re way luckier than most, girl!” She giggled, all traces of seriousness forgotten. “I mean, you didn’t hook a normal catch. You caught a big one!”

She reached for my orange juice and took another sip before continuing. “They say he embodies charm itself, the way he smiles and how he laughs—not to mention how handsome he is. From what I’ve heard, ladies up and down the eastern seaboard all want a taste. If you see the company he keeps, honestly, I’m jealous you made it on his list.” She shook her head, draining the last of the juice.

“I wish we could trade places,” I muttered, wishing she hadn’t finished my drink off; my throat was unbearably dry.

Setting the glass down, she cocked her head at me. “Did you say something?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. Just thinking out loud.”

This was all a terrible, terrible nightmare. Nothing about staring into the precipice of this dark abyss called crime was appealing to me. It was obviously one of those twisted ironies of life, a wicked gift from fate, one I had unknowingly made myself available for by setting myself on the ledge.

“Well,” Jenna said, “don’t keep a girl hanging. Tell me about what happened that night. How was it? Was he good in bed? Did he make you come? Tell me, please. Don’t leave it all to my imagination.”

“Um…” I glanced over my shoulder. “I’m going to grab some water. You want something?”

With how horror-stricken I was with Jenna’s revelation of who Dominik is, I really wasn’t feeling like getting into details of that night with her. Yes, I could still remember his lips on mine which now haunted me, and those moments of passion which stretched into the night, leaving us both exhausted.

Jenna shook her head, her eyes narrowing.

Ignoring her expression, I walked past the cashier stand, grabbed a bottle of water from a refrigerated cooler, and went to stand in line.

I didn’t want to tell Jenna what had happened that night, especially about how I’d gotten drunk on the sex and climbed on top of Dominik. The night was a treasure I’d wanted to keep locked away, but now that I knew who Dominik was, those emotions were blackening.

“You are mine.”

How could I tell her that hearing him call me his had made my heart skip, had plagued my wet dreams for weeks after? She may not laugh about it, but for goodness’ sake, he had been way hotter and more experienced than me. But knowing who he was now, I couldn’t find it in me to be giddy. A Mafia boss…

“Cash or card?”

I startled a bit as the smiling student at the cashier stand spoke.

“Um, right. I’m on the meal plan—here’s my ID.”

She took the card, then glanced at the bottle of water. “Just the water?”

I glanced around quickly, grabbing a bag of chips sitting near the register. “These too, please.”

She nodded, swiping my ID, then handed my ID back, along with a receipt. “Want a bag?”

I shook my head, then made my slow way back to the table, dragging my feet as my mind raced.

“You are mine.” Now, remembering those possessive words made my stomach sink. Dominik was no ordinary man, and men like him probably didn’t just say things like that casually.

Oh God, what if he did mean it?

What else did a Mafia leader want with an inexperienced woman? Even now, recalling the dark heat in his eyes when he called me his made my anxiety peak. I hoped it had just been the lust talking. If I’d thought anything special about that night and my encounter with him, now it was poisoned with the reality of who he was.

“I see you don’t wish to share,” Jenna said, eyeing me as I sat down. “It must have been one hell of a special night.”

---