Page 41 of Hating the Bratva

Delaney

As we board the plane, my phone rings. I pull it from my purse to see that my mom is calling. Alek sees the name at the same time I do. I haven’t talked to either of my parents since I left their house. The betrayal still cuts deep. My finger hovers over the decline button, but Alek’s voice stops me.

“Answer. It might be important.”

I plop down in my seat and answer the call.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Delaney,” she exclaims, as if the last time we talked, she didn’t completely shatter my world. “I’ve been meaning to reach out to you, but with all the wedding planning…”

It would have been nice to at least make it to Boston before I was reminded of that. Alek sinks in the seat next to me, and I know it’s only a matter of minutes before they ask everyone to turn their phones off.

“Actually, that’s why I called you. I set up an appointment at the dress shop tomorrow at noon. Are you free?”

I’ll never be free for that. I could care less if I walked down the aisle in a paper bag. The flight attendant makes her way to the front, and I know she’s about to start going over the safety instructions. I can’t let my mom hear that we’re on a plane because she’ll ask too many questions.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I have to go, Mom.” I hang up just in time for the plane to start moving, and the attendant begins talking.

Alek grabs my hand and laces our fingers together. “Are you alright?”

I swallow the small lump that has formed in my throat. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“What did she want?”

“She made an appointment to pick out my dress tomorrow.”

He nods. “It will be alright.”

I wish I could believe him, but every day that passes, I get closer to my wedding day. I don’t even know the date of my wedding or anything about it. The seat belt light comes on, and we start to ascend. Alek’s hand moves from our intertwined fingers to my exposed thigh peeking out from under my skirt. Goosebumps rise over my skin, and I peek a glance at him. He’s watching the TV in front of us like nothing is happening as he reaches further under my skirt. My heart rate picks up, and I look around, making sure no one else can see us.

“Alek,” I hiss as his fingers tease my panties.

“Open your legs,” he says quietly without looking away from the TV. My breath hitches in my throat, but I do as he says. He reaches around my panties, and his fingers rub against my most sensitive spot. I bite my lip, trying to keep my moan at bay as his fingers explore. He pushes a finger inside of me, and my breath hitches.

“Alek,” I whisper in a warning. If he doesn’t stop—

He leans over to whisper in my ear, “I want to feel you come all over my fingers, right here on this crowded plane.”

It only takes a couple of minutes, and I do just that. My body shivers, and I nearly draw blood from biting my lip. Alek gives me a wicked smile before removing his fingers. I watch in shock as he places both of his fingers, covered in my wetness, into his mouth.

“Next time, you’ll come on my tongue.”

*****

“What do you have in mind? I was thinking of something more traditional, more like a ballroom gown. We don’t want to pick something too tight or revealing as you know the men in this family are more conservative.”

I want to laugh at that last part. Bratva men sell drugs, deal with guns, and kill people, but god forbid I wear a mermaid dress for my wedding.

“Ballgown is fine,” I mutter. My mom could have done this without me, but I guess she has to make sure the dress fits. She holds the door of the dress shop open for me to walk in.

“Ms. Miller?” a man says, coming around the counter to greet me.

I clear my throat. “Yes.”

“We have some amazing gowns picked out for you. You can call me Francis. I’ll be assisting you with all of your dress shopping needs.” We shake hands, and I try my best to look mildly excited about the torture I’m about to endure. I’d much rather be at home…well, at Alek’s place. The construction workers finished the hot tub while we were in Miami, and I plan to use it tonight.

“Nice to see you again, Mrs. Miller,” Francis says, reaching around to shake Mom’s hand.

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