Page 67 of Caught By the Bratva Beast

“And do you think I did the right thing? Killing Nicolo after everything he’s ruined? It seems like he didn't suffer enough for what he did to me over the last seven years.”

“If you hadn't killed him today, what would you have done with him?”

“I don't know if I could have killed him any other day.”

“I don't believe that for a second. You’re a Bratva wife to the bone, even if you don't believe it. You're easygoing yet so determined. Intelligent and beautiful. You think like you're made for this life. And if we hadn’t found him for another four days—another four years—you would have killed him, and it would have been the right thing to do. He signed his life away the moment he killed your father. He knew that and that's why he tried to push the blame onto me.”

“I want you to tell me about my father. I knew him as Dad, but we never got to reach the point our lives where we were anything more to each other than just a dad and his kid.”

“Well, Aaron might have been one of the best people I've ever known. You should have seen how excited he was when he found out he was going to have a daughter. He was on top of the world. You would have thought somebody offered him all the money in the world, the way he told me that his baby girl was arriving.”

“Really?” she asks, her eyebrows climbing, her voice raising an octave. “Things were hard between us when I was a teen. There were times I thought he didn't love me anymore.”

“He used to come to our meetings. He'd spend about an hour bitching about the stupid teenager things you had done. Whatever you thought that week would piss him off the most. And then after that, he'd spend the next two hours talking about everything you accomplished and all the places you were going in your life. He showed pictures of you time and time again. Every single year.”

“If he showed you pictures, why didn't you know who I was when you saw me?”

“You don't look anything like the gangly fifteen-year-old I was expecting to find.”

“Will you tell me more about him?” Pearl asks. She shifts up the bed, relaxing into the pillows. She stares up at the ceiling as I move to sit beside her.

“I'll spend the rest of my life telling you whatever you want to know.”

“Good, because I don't think after all we've been through together that I could ever let you go.”

“Aaron always thought the best thing he ever did was become a father to you.”

“Do you want kids?” she asks, her tone soft like she's waiting for a while to ask the question, but she thinks I’m going to run.

There was a time in my life when thinking about children would have sent me running, but now it just leaves me excited.

“I never thought I did. I know it's my duty in the Bratva to have them continue our line, but it wasn't something actively wanted until I met you. Then you wormed your way into my life. You made it impossible to forget you. And then I started having dreams about what kids would look like.”

She props herself on her elbow, laying on her side to look at me. “You did?”

“How could I not from the moment you walked into my life? I knew you were going to be mine. It was only a matter of time until I caught you.”

“So confident,” she says, light and teasing as she rolls over, straddling my hips. “And what if I told you no? Kept refusing your advances. Would you still come after me?”

“Pearl, I would chase you to the far fucking corners of this world if that's what it took to get you in my life. You could run, but there would be nowhere you would be able to hide to be safe from me.”

Her hands are on my chest, slipping beneath my shirt, nails tracing over the muscles. “You really believe that don't you?”

“It's something I’ve known for months. I've never been surer of anything else in my life.”

“That was almost romantic.” She rolls off me, gets out of the bed, pulls her shirt over her head, and throws it to the floor. “I think I'm going to shower after everything we've been through today.”

Smirking, I put my hands behind my head, watching her as she sways her hips shimmying out of her jeans. They hit the floor, her bra following.

She looks at me over her shoulder. “Are you coming or not?”

“Well, I suppose we should get some practice for making babies.” I get out of bed, taking my time to walk to her. The moment I reach her, my hands trail along her curves.

Tears slip down her cheeks. “I don't know if I'm ever going to stop crying.”

“If tears are the way you want to worship my cock. Go for it.”

She laughs, delivering a light pat to my chest before hopping into the shower, and leaving the door open for me to follow her in.

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