Page 48 of Trapping His Darling

I watched her shoulders relax in relief. She offered a small smile then opened her mouth to take a bite. When she chewed and swallowed, I sat down next to her and fed her by hand.

I was a little relieved too. I really liked Tiffany. I didn’t want to fight with her. But I needed her to let me lead. I needed her to obey me without question. Both our lives depended on this.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Viktor

Of course theuniverse would force me to prove the sincerity of my oath only an hour or two after making it. I knew the moment my men escorted the tall designer, and her flock of seamstress attendants, into the penthouse that there was going to be an issue.

For one, I did not like the way the woman looked at Tiffany when she walked in, with her nose in the air like she was too good to be in my home, serving my fiancée. Then she sealed her fate.

The designer’s assistants immediately became busy removing dresses from their garment bags, while the woman supervised like a circling harpy.

“Don’t bother with those,” she directed to the ladies, before looking at Tiffany and saying in English, “Sadly, there will not be much of a selection. My designs aren’t made for fat, squishy American body shapes. If I had known you were so heavy, I wouldn’t have answered the call.”

Her eyes widened when I pulled out my gun, but she didn’t get a chance to talk. I shot her in the middle of her sloping forehead.

While the ladies began screaming, and fled for the exit, Tiffany began happily clapping and bouncing on her feet, a huge smile on her face. “Aww. You really do love me,” she said.

I ordered my men to detain the women, and take care of any issues they might have had with me murdering their boss, before I addressed my fiancée.

“I am sorry you were exposed to that. She was hired on recommendation. Would you like me to have the person who recommended her killed?”

With a broad smile, Tiffany nodded. “Yes, please.”

Since it was just me, her, and the dead woman left, I pulled out my phone and texted out some additional orders to my lead man. “Done,” I replied upon hitting the send button. “Or will be shortly.”

Tiffany came up to me, drew a finger down my chest, and cooed. “I don’t need to be dressed up. This is just a formality, right?”

I nodded.

“We’ll save the wedding dress for when you propose.”

“I’ll take you shopping,” I offered, eyeing her robe. “So you have something special to wear. Then I will take you to dinner.”

“I don’t want to go shopping,” she replied. “I have clothes. American clothes. And they fit me correctly.”

I suppressed my snarl. If I could kill the bitch at my feet over again, I would. Now I would have to lay Tiffany’s body image insecurity to rest yetagain.

“You will need clothing that befits your station as the wife of a Bratva leader.”

Tiffany frowned. “Are you saying my current clothes are too low class for someone ‘of your station’?”

“Careful,”my mother cautioned in my head.“She’s not from this world.”

Rather than demand her compliance, I decided to explain the domino effect. “If I do not provide haute couture fashion for you, I will be seen as a negligent husband, and a weak leader incapable of dressing his wife properly. It will send a message to others that the Bratva in this area are no longer powerful, that we must have somehow lost our access to unlimited money and resources. This will embolden my enemies to test me, thus putting you and everyone under my command needlessly in danger.”

“That’s dumb,” she bristled.

Nodding, I agreed with her. “Yes, but it’s the way of things.”

“But what if I don’t want to wear it, or it doesn’t look good on me?”

I motioned to her robe. “Everything you wear looks glorious.”

“Great! Then I’ll marry you in this!”

“You will not.”

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