Page 45 of Owned By The Bratva King

If he wants to protect me, I’m not gonna argue, but there’s more to it than he’s saying. A specific threat; the one who tried to kill him the other night. I guess wealthy people are often targets, but who shoots at someone they want to kidnap and ransom?

No time for this now. Gotta get ready.

I wriggle into the dress. It clings to my curves, wrapping me in softness, and I cringe. He couldn’t have chosen a forgiving empire line with a big underskirt?

He chose it because he wanted to see my body. It’s hard for me to understand until I remember how he looked at me when he stole into my bed last night. His eyes roamed over me like he wanted to sear the sight into his memory and lock it away.

I twist and curse, but it’s no use; I can’t pull up the zipper, and my cheeks flush with shame. I pull it up as far as possible and reapply my makeup, twisting my hair into a crown braid. Roman didn’t think of shoes so I go barefoot, and after a moment’s hesitation, kick off my panties.

Well, Quinn, you wanted change, and that’s what you got. It’s time to embrace it and see what happens next.

The tiny congregation is waiting for me—the man I don’t know is here to officiate and stands at the furthest point of the yacht’s sun deck. Roman stands beside him, flanked by Leon and Viktor.

No one can walk me down the non-existent aisle, and no guests are here for me. There’s nothing to do but get on with it.

A breeze washes over me, reminding me of my bare back. Roman is watching me, and I beckon him frantically.

“What’s the matter?” he asks as he arrives at my side.

“My dress is open at the back,” I reply, turning to show him. “I can’t reach.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” He smooths his warm palm over my skin and kisses my shoulder blade. “Let me get that for you.”

I draw a deep breath, trying to make myself smaller. There’ve been so many times when I was too big to do up a dress. And this is a wedding dress, picked out for me by a man?—

“Quinn, relax.” Roman stops, the zipper halfway up my back. “It will fit. I put my hands on those dresses myself and imagined you pouring your beautiful body into them. This one is as perfect as you are. You don’t need to wish yourself away anymore.”

He slides the zipper to the top with ease. “You’re about to become my wife, and believe me—Quinn Kazanova will take up as much space as she damn well pleases.”

He holds my hand and walks with me to the end of the sun deck. I try not to think of my father. He was foolish and made mistakes, but he never meant it to happen as it did. He should be here, and Mom, too.

Roman feels me trembling and grips my hand tighter. We stop before the officiant, and Roman gives him a nod.

When I have to answer questions, my acquiescent nature takes over as usual, and I play my part like I was born for it.

I close my eyes and listen to the words as they wash over me. Poetic things about love, commitment, trust, adoration.

To be adored. It’s not a dream I ever had. All I wanted was to fade into the background, but since I met Roman, I feel more and more like a real person. A woman who could aspire to something.

Rational Quinn should pipe up and remind me that this is all insane, but she has her out-of-office on for the time being.

In fact, all the Quinns with any instinct for self-preservation are out on an extended vacation, leaving behind the version of me who is high as a kite on all this attention and swept up in a whirlwind of excitement.

Roman slips a slim diamond–encrusted band onto my finger, and with a few more words, the officiant seals the deal.

“Roman and Quinn—you are now husband and wife. Mr. Kazanov, you may kiss your bride.”

Welp. It’s done.

Roman wraps his hands around my waist and draws me nearer. The scent of him makes me think of when he broke into my apartment—no, let himself in with his goddamn key—just so he could read my naughty journal.

The man is problematic, there’s no doubt about it, but those silver eyes pull me like magnets, and all is forgiven.

His lips are warm, and he kisses me with surprising restraint until his tongue finds mine. Then I feel him tense, his body like carved granite as he cups my jawline, and I surge to meet him, the kiss deepening.

I just want to be alone with him. To get him out of this expensive suit and watch him unravel with ecstasy, like before.

A smattering of polite applause breaks the spell, and Roman and I pull apart. Roman shakes everyone’s hands.

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