Page 19 of Unwilling Bratva Bride

“We’re going to my room, sweetheart.” He cocked a brow. “Oh, excuse me.Ourroom.”

Chapter 8 - Ivan

I walked up the stairs that led to my bedroom.Oops, did it again. Our bedroom. Excitement bubbled through me like I was a fucking kid at Christmas or something. Not that we ever did that shit in my old house. Still, the feeling was electric, and the memory of being so close to Adley in her old room was still burning in my mind.

I was desperate to taste her again, and now that she was here, well, the hard part was over.

Sure, I still had a bit of explaining to do when it came to house rules and what exactly was going to be happening regarding my “work,” but dammit, I wanted to enjoy this. We were here, and that tight little body of hers was going to be mine soon enough.

Though teasing her is so damn fun.

As I approached the door leading to my private suite, I reached into my pocket for the key. We didn’t lock the front door much, but each of us had keys to our own rooms, which were a comfortable distance away from the others for noise reasons.

Being the oldest, I got the top room, and both Abrahim and Vlad had to suck it. They’d been pretty pissed about it at first, but I knew what I had to do to buy them off—and it didn’t hurt to remind them that I encouraged my nighttime visitors to be loud.

“This needs a key? Seriously, you guys make no sense.”

“Don’t worry, your pretty little head, sweetheart. We keep the house nice and safe.”

I pushed open the door and stepped inside. As I walked to my bed, which sat on the right-hand wall, I tossed downAdley’s duffle. She would be getting her things unpacked, and I wanted to see them all mixed up with my clothes, cementing her presence here.

It was an odd thought, but I wasn’t going to question it. Not now, anyway. Like I’d already told myself, I wanted to enjoy this.

Adley climbed the last stair into the room, and her lips parted gently as she gasped. The tiny sound was barely loud enough to reach me, but there was no mistaking the awe painted on her face.

There wasn’t much to this room aside from my bed and the dresser on the wall straight ahead of the door. Still, the bed itself was massive: a low platform with black wood as the base and deep gray sheets.

It sat on the only solid wall, red bricks spaced between the metal I-beams; the rest of the walls were all glass, like downstairs. From here, you could look out and see the entire valley where the house resided, nestled right against the lake in a sea of green and blue.

I loved it up here. Coming home after a long day to this made me feel like a person again. There was no point sugarcoating it to myself, and I had to admit that on most days, my job was messy and violent and a downright slog. This view? It made all the difference.

And you still have to explain a bit more about that to Adley.

“Well, I’ll admit,” Adley said quietly, walking up to the window across from my bed, “the view is spectacular.”

I smiled. “Ain’t it just. But we’ll have time for that. Right now, why don’t you get unpacked.”

As much as that would typically be a suggestion, I knew that both Adley and I understood the command that it really was.

She glared that cheery expression on her face dying as she walked over to the bed and began to take out her things from the duffle. When she’d gotten through the first two shirts she brought, Adley looked over her shoulder at me, her brows knitted together.

“Are you just going to stand there and watch me dick around with clothes?”

Smirking, I folded my arms over my chest, leaning against the taller dresser next to me. “Yup.”

“Ugh,” she grumbled, returning to her task.

What Adley pulled out from the bag was far from girly. The growing pile of clothes was mostly black, with a splash of red plaid and blue denim. I noticed the way she kept the jeans and leggings folded but opened the shirts. She was clearly going off motor memory, which was an odd little window into who she was.

Adley hung her shirts and folded her pants—it was just a dumb thing to know about a person, but it felt weirdly intimate.

“Where am I supposed to put these, then?” She turned to me, her arms full of folded pants.

I knew the dresser likely made more sense, but it was full of tactical gear, and the bottom drawer held weapons, so that was a no-go. I leaned over, opened the closet, and gestured inside.

Inside was a sizeable island-like counter in the center of the space, which was decked out in a similar deep wood acrossall the walls and floor. It had a few drawers, only one of which was being used for my socks and boxers.

“Second drawer down.”

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