Page 80 of Forced Bratva Prisoner

“I like the sound of having a private date night at home.” She is smiling more now. I trace my hands over her jawline and lift her face up towards mine. Gently I press my lips against hers.

I kiss her slowly and softly, then when I pull away, I say, “Be ready at seven o'clock sharp and wear your favorite, most beautiful dress.”

She bites her lower lip.

“Or wear your tracksuit pants. I just want you to be comfortable,” I laugh.

“I’ll be ready at seven,” she confirms with a little nod of excitement.

“Then, if you will excuse me, I have something special to plan, that you can’t know anything about.”

I grin and walk out of the room, leaving her to enjoy her tea and, hopefully, with something to look forward to.

***

On the very top floor of my house is a glass sun room where I often host parties in summer.

Tonight, I have turned it into a stunning private dinner venue.

Around the edge of the room, fairy lights are glittering like stars, and soft candles are flickering from the small round dinner table set up near the window. I’ve decorated the room with red roses and lit a fire in the corner fireplace to keep the space warm and cozy.

My chef has prepared us a three-course meal with a wine pairing for each course.

At seven o'clock sharp, I am waiting on the staircase in my black suit, ready to fetch my date. I have a single red rose in my hand and a grin on my face.

Sasha walks out of our bedroom in a gorgeous red dress. It hugs her body over her hips and then flares out around her long legs, showing off her curves in the most perfect way.

Her blonde hair is pinned up in an elegant loose bun, and her lips are painted red to match the dress.

Looking at her, my heart stammers to a halt, and my breath catches in my throat.

She is a vision.

I step towards her and hand her the single rose before wrapping one arm around her and pulling her against me.

“I can’t believe you are my wife,” I whisper against her ear as the warm scent of her perfume washes over me. “I hope you are hungry.”

“I’m very hungry.” She grins, and her eyes glitter with that light I love to see in them. The one that has been missing the last two days.

I take her hand and lead her upstairs to the top floor. When she walks into the glass sun room, she gasps.

“Leo, this is so beautiful. I can’t believe you did this all for me.”

“You deserve more than this. I only did this to see you smile.”

“Well, it worked,” she grins.

I hold her chair out for her as she takes her seat, and the chef comes through with our first course, pouring us each a glass of wine and explaining how it complements the carpaccio and basil dish he has prepared.

Sasha bites her lip nervously.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, worried again.

“I don’t want to ruin anything, but I think if I have wine now, it will just make me tired. Do you mind if I skip the wine?”

“Oh, I was just about to say the same thing,” I smirk.

“Were you?” She laughs.

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