Page 46 of Arranged Bratva Virgin

“Good. Well, then, let’s go.”

Huh?

“Go where?” I ask, feeling overwhelmed and caught off guard with everything that is happening right now.

“For a drive. You are taking me somewhere.”

“Darya, I kind of have work to do—"

“Not today, you don’t.”

“Today and every day,” I say, knowing that all I really want to do is pull her against me.

“Get in the car, Stef. We are going out. It’s my birthday.”

My heart slams into my ribcage.

“I had no idea. I would’ve planned something. I didn’t know, Darya. Where do you want to go? Anywhere. Just tell me.”

I am flustered and tripping over my own words.

“You’ll do anything I want?”

“Of course. Shall we go shopping? We can find you a beautiful gift. Diamonds? Shoes? Dresses—"

“Come on.” She grabs my hand and pulls me back out of the house towards my car.

She obviously wants to go shopping. I can’t believe I didn’t know it was her birthday. I should have woken her up with flowers, balloons, chocolates, beautiful sparkling gifts. Of course, that is what a girl like Darya deserves.

I feel so shit about the fact that I forgot. But I will make it up to her by buying her everything her heart desires.

Sitting in the car, I start the engine and head out towards the main road, the one that leads to the biggest mall in the city. Darya is smiling triumphantly, as though she won some game, or maybe she is just pleased with herself for catching me off guard like this.

Wow, this girl really knows how to keep me on my toes. And after that show she put on this morning, my entire body is still humming with lust for her. I don’t know how I am going to get through an entire day of her trying on all of those little dresses again. Last time was bad enough trying to control my urges.

I focus on the road ahead of me, but my confusion doubles when Darya gently touches my arm and says, “Turn off here,” pointing in the opposite direction of the mall.

I almost miss the turn, I am so confused, but she insists so I swerve a little and take it. Maybe we are going to some kind of custom jeweler or a luxury spa, those types of things that women love.

I drive with one eye on the road and one eye on her, tired of being caught off guard today. She definitely has the upper hand here.

“Here,” she points again, to a place I know well, next to a park.

“We are going to the park?” I ask, confused.

“You can stop here.”

She hops out of the car as soon as I am parked, and I have to jog a little to catch up to her. She reaches out and wraps her fingers through mine and my heart grows tighter and tighter in my chest as she leads me to my parents' grave.

My real parents.

“What are we doing here, Darya?” I ask tightly.

“When last did you visit them?” she asks gently.

“I don’t visit them.”

“Well, we are visiting them today. Because, well, I never had the chance to meet them.”

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