Page 52 of The Bratva's Forced Bride

“Hmm.” He grunted and waited for me to say something else.

I put a hand on my chest. “You love me?”

He rumbled. “Okay, in English. I love you, hermosa.”

I found it hard to believe that all this was real. Many thoughts flashed through my mind at the same time. Mark Varkov could love. And he chose to love me.

His brows narrowed and his lips curved downward. “Addison?”

“Hmm …What?” My mind was spiraling.

“You aren’t saying anything. Do you want me to say it in the other languages too?”

That was the moment I decided whether I was ready to trust again or not. Whether I was ready to love again. And when he held me close and kissed my nose like I was a delicate flower that needed all the care and attention, that was all I needed to make the final decision. I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“Well, … because … I love you too. Te amo.”

His arms froze around me and he looked at me calmly. Then he said, “You love me.”

“Yes, I do, Mark.”

With a wry grin, he said: “You’re not just saying it because you think I’ll tie you up in the basement and feed you stale bread if you don’t say it back.”

“God, no.” I laughed, shook my head, and purred in his ear. “I’d rather you tied my hands to the bedposts tonight. And I love it when you speak Spanish to me, but you could also whisper all the other languages in my ear, but if—” He pressed his thumb on my lips.

“Two words: Shut up. Three words: You. Me. Bed.” His lips covered mine and he carried me to bed. He cradled my head, cupped my cheeks, and kissed me gently, as if he feared I would break.

I smiled and felt warm and cozy inside. Irina was right; I deserved better. And then came Mark with the smart and sexy mouth, the styled, thick hair, and no-nonsense attitude.

Made just for me.

I didn’t belong in the world of the mafia like he did. But I belonged in his arms.

Epilogue – Mark

Five Years Later

Goodbyes never mean it’s over.” – Anonymous.

After a long hour in which she clung to my shoulder and cried heartbreakingly “No, Daddy! No, Daddy! I don’t want to go,” Alina finally ... finally let go.

Sniffling like her mother, she cupped my cheeks with her soft little hands and planted a wet kiss on them. Sad big puppy eyes and an adorable pout on her little lips. “I love you, Papa.”

Chuckling, I handed her over to Addison, who quickly masked the worry on her face and wiped off the tears and snot on Alina’s. “I love you too, princess. Grandpa Archie will pick you up after school and take you for a treat.”

“Yay, Starbucks?” she squealed. Gone were the tears.

“Yes,” Addison laughed.

“I love you, Mama,” she pecked her cheek, and reluctantly, followed the teacher into the school building, waving energetically as if she feared she would never see us again.

I laughed, but Addison remained silent as we walked back to the car.

“What is it now?” I asked as soon as we had fastened our seat belts. I turned the key in the ignition and reversed the car out of the parking lot.

She let her gaze wander out of the window. “I’m just worried about her. That’s not unusual, is it?” She shuffled around in her seat and turned to me. “I’m not as strong as you to take things like a brick wall. No offense, mister.”

“None taken, mi preciosa.”

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