Page 44 of Owned By The Bratva King

34

Roman

Quinn looks winded, as though reality just kicked her in the gut. She wasn’t expecting this, but I couldn’t exactly clue her in and risk her running away from me and into trouble.

There’s no going back from here. I will claim Quinn for my own, give her my name, and face the music. The rules of my world demand it, but that’s not the only reason.

Fuck Silvio, and fuck his revenge. Quinn is a civilian until I put a ring on her finger; then, she will be a bratva wife and entitled to protection under Russian mafia laws that have existed since long before I was born. Hell, they go back to the days when we did nothing but fight amongst ourselves. Rules that our commission, or komissiya, will uphold no matter how much blood is shed.

The man who harms a bratva wife is immediately persona non-gratis. No one, from street to back room to safe house, will give him sanctuary, and if the husband of the wronged woman chooses to murder him, that is his prerogative.

The wife of a pakhan is another matter entirely; the fool who hurts her is, without exception, a dead man walking. He may beg the komissiya for his life, but he will have to pay dearly to keep his wretched pulse, and even people he called his friends will hunt him down like the dog he is.

So Vercotti better back the fuck off.

“Wedding?” Quinn says, finally finding her words. “What if I refuse?”

“Try it and find out,” I reply. “You could go back to your life and see how long you’d last, but without me, you’d be in real danger.”

She swallows a nervous lump in her throat. “But…married? Now? You didn’t even ask me!”

“Correct.” I shrug. “It has to be this way. You asked why I was shot? There’s always some asshole trying to kidnap me and demand a ransom.

Now, you’re associated with me, so you’re at risk, too, but as my wife, my company is legally obliged to release funds in the event of your abduction. And I want to keep you close. Protect you.”

“You could have denied I meant anything to you and left me alone,” Quinn says, her brow furrowing as she tries to make sense of it.

“Yes.” I stroke her cheek. “But I’d struggle to sell a lie like that, and it’d be a hell of a chance to take. Someone might take it upon themselves to call my bluff and hurt you regardless. I’d have no choice but to get nasty.”

“So this isn’t a game to you?” she asks.

“Quinn, you have no idea what you’ve done to me.” I pull her into my arms, and she doesn’t resist, her warm curves molding to my body. “From the moment I set eyes on you, I’ve been floundering like a drowning man, trying desperately to stay afloat.

For years, I kept myself isolated, afraid of letting anyone get close but you? I couldn’t get close enough.

Everything you did fascinated me. I followed you, watched you, and took stupid risks to reach into your life. I’ll bet you never guessed that you needed the undivided attention of a man like me, but don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy every second of it.”

I drop a soft kiss onto her lips. “You took my numb, cold heart and breathed life into it. I’m terrified of how I feel for you.”

Quinn’s mouth yields to mine, and for a moment, there’s nothing in the universe but her and me.

“If this is a game, rusalka, you have me beat,” I murmur. I release her and head for the door, nodding at the garment bag. “That’s your dress. You have half an hour. Don’t wear panties.”

35

Quinn

After Roman leaves, I unzip the garment bag to find a stunning mermaid-cut strapless gown in ivory mikado silk, with a delicate tulle overlay wrapping the skirt.

I hope it fits. At least I don’t need to worry about my panty line showing.

I wish I could say I didn’t want this, but a big part of me is wildly seduced by the idea. Me, the wife of a mysterious and sexy billionaire? Obviously, it’s appealing after years of scraping a living.

But it’s the protection I can’t possibly turn down. Roman blew my cover, and I don’t want my uncle to find me; even if he can no longer hurt me, seeing him would remind me of all the ways I’m no good.

Something will break the spell eventually; Roman will realize I’m some ordinary girl, not a princess for him to spoil and adore.

It’s all irrelevant. He isn’t asking, he’s telling, but I know he’s hiding something.

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