Page 11 of Arranged Bratva Virgin

To my horror, I can feel my body responding to it as well. I am getting turned on by him.

I gasp in shock at the realization that heat is building between my legs.

I feel my cheeks flush red with embarrassment as my skin begins to tingle.

This is horrible. Why would my body betray me like this?

“Do you understand me?” his voice is deep, but a little gentler.

I nod, not knowing what else to do. I am scared that if I keep talking, he will be able to tell that I am suddenly attracted to him. I feel as though my breathing has changed, and my posture has changed in response to this. I need to hide it.

A loud crashing sound snaps through the air and every muscle in my body tenses, making me instantly forget everything about being turned on. A scream erupts from my lips as bullets slam into the side of the car.

Stefano’s arm reaches out and holds me against my seat as the car begins to spin out of control. He grips the steering wheel as more bullets crack into the widow near my head. Thank fuck the glass is bulletproof—otherwise I wouldn’t even have had the time to notice them.

Our car comes to a shuddering stop against the pavement.

Wheels scream against the tarred road and Stefano reaches down to the side of his seat, pulling out his own gun. He cracks open his door and starts firing rounds at the other car, which clearly does not have bulletproof windows. The glass explodes, and I hear men screaming and yelling as their car starts to back away quickly, swerving and weaving along the road.

Stefano climbs out, standing in the road, and continues to fire after them as they retreat into the dark night.

He waits, standing firm with his gun gripped in his hand. His watchful eye is on everything around him.

When he is satisfied that they aren’t coming back for a second attempt, he gets back into the car.

I can hear my own breathing and nothing else.

My entire body is stiff with shock.

“Are you ok? Are you hurt?” he asks, brushing his hand over my body.

I don’t even move away from his touch.

“Are you hurt, Darya?” he says louder.

“Um…no…." My voice is shaking. My chest is tight, and it is making it hard to breathe.

He slams his door and starts the car again. It growls to life, and he pulls away with a screech of rubber on the road. I stare blankly out of the window in silence.

“Did they just shoot at us?” I know it is a stupid question, but my brain can’t seem to process what the hell is going on right now.

One minute, I am worried about marrying some idiot I don’t want to marry, and the next I am watching bullets slam into the window right next to my head.

“Yes.”

“Who was it?” I stammer.

He doesn’t answer me.

I don’t have the energy to push him for answers. I just want to get home, somewhere safe. I wish I could go directly to one of my brothers' places and stay there. I wouldn’t dare ask Stefano to take me there now, though.

He is obviously going to take me back to his place, and I am sure he has ample security there.

I try to focus on my breathing instead of the rising panic.

Except we don’t go back to his place; he drives past the turnoff that I know leads to his home, and he just keeps going.

“Stefano?” I say, my voice still unsteady. “I think you missed the turn.” Maybe he is too stressed to have noticed.

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