Page 57 of Used By the Bratva

This moment is worth it, even if it was a pain in the ass to get the tickets at the last minute.

Natalie deserves the best I can give her.

It’s the first time I've ever felt this way about someone. It’s a foreign feeling, but it settles in my chest and makes me feel completely at home.

I would spend the rest of my life trying to be her source of happiness, and for a moment, that scares the hell out of me.

I don’t know what Natalie did to me, but I'd do it all over again.

***

Hours later, the orchestra leaves the stage to a standing ovation.

The lights in the concert hall are just coming on as Natalie wipes a tear from her eye.

I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy hormones or just happiness, but she seems too emotional for an orchestra performance.

We let some of the other people move out of the hall while she admires the stage. Another tear slides down her cheek and makes its way through her make-up.

I catch the tear with my finger. “Is something wrong?”

Maybe she didn’t like it after all.

Maybe she wanted to see the performance with someone other than me.

Natalie spins to face me, throwing her arms around my neck; even in her heels, she needs to stand on her toes to reach. “Thank you. This has been the best night of my life. I still can’t believe you cared enough to get tickets for us.”

Smiling, I press a kiss to the top of her hair. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ve wanted to see them ever since I started playing the violin. As I got older, I became more interested in oil painting, but the European Orchestra was always the soundtrack to those paintings.”

“If there’s a famous artist you want to go see, let me know.” I run my hands up and down her back as goose bumps appear on her skin. “We could go to the Louvre for our anniversary next year.”

Natalie’s jaw drops as she looks up at me. “You mean that?”

“Of course.” I cup her face in my hands, kissing her long and slow, the salty taste of her tears on her lips.”

I hum, tracing a hand over the curve of her hip. “Tell you what, you like nude women in paintings, right?”

Her eyebrow arches, curiosity shining in her gaze. “I do.”

“Then I want you to take a picture of yourself, naked or in lingerie, and then I want you to paint it for me.”

She gasps, her cheeks turning pink. “You’re not going to hang it up in the house, are you?”

“You bet I am. In my private study, though. Nobody is going to get to see your body other than me.”

“Well, if you want the painting, then consider it yours. I’ll start when we get home after the honeymoon.”

“Actually, I need two paintings. One of you with this bump, which is going in our room, and then I need one after the baby.”

“You sound like the house is going to be covered in naked paintings of me.”

“Solnyshko, I would build a whole damn shrine for you if that’s what it takes to see you naked every day.”

The corner of her mouth twitches as her pretty blush spreads down her neckline. “I think that could be arranged.”

“Good.” I chuckle and wipe another tear as it falls. “You want to tell me why you’re crying?”

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