Page 65 of Ruthless Lullaby

She steps back, looking up at me with an all-serious expression. One moment we’re devouring each other, losing ourselves in the heat of the moment, the next, she is stepping away from me. It is a stark shift that leaves me breathless and confused.

"I need to ask you something,” she says.

I furrow my brow, not sure what got into her. "Ask," I reply.

"What is the Bratva to you?"

I'm caught completely off guard by the unexpected question. None of the women I've been with, have ever asked me anything like that. All they cared about was if I liked their new outfit or where we were going for dinner. And of course, the inevitable "when are we getting married?" But the Bratva… that's a different story.

My mind scrambles, searching for any clue that might explain where she got this from. How does she know about the Bratva? I don’t think I ever mentioned it to her. No, I’m sure I didn’t. The fact that I’m the leader of one of the most feared organizations in the criminal underworld isn’t exactly the kind of thing you casually tell people about.

“I overheard you and Pavel talk about it,” she adds, noticing the confusion on my face. “So, I Googled it. I knowwhatthe Bratva is, Maron. My question is,what is it to you?”

Blyad.

I wasn’t planning on explaining this to her. At least not right now. It’s been a long fucking day and all I want is to take her to the bedroom and fuck her until we’re both spent, not to explain to her how I’m involved in the Bratva and what that means. But the intensity of her gaze doesn't waver, silently demanding an answer.

Well, fuck it.

If I’m going to take her as my wife, I might as well start playing with open cards. It’s not like I can hide this from her forever.

"I don’t know what’s on the internet," I begin, watching her expression closely. “But the Bratva is the Russian mafia.” I need to tread carefully around this topic. The last thing I want is to scare her.

“I know that,” she says. “Why does it matter to you?” She meets my gaze with a mix of determination and concern, her eyes continuing to search mine for answers.

“Because I was born into it,” I tell her keeping my eyes locked with hers. "When my father died, I became… the head of the Bratva. ThePakhan.” I pause, giving her a moment to process my words.

“You’re the head of the Bratva?”

“Da.” I nod, taking a step closer to her. Despite my initial fear that this might scare her, she doesn’t back away. Her armslinger at her sides, tracing the smooth curve of her hips. “And that means I have certain obligations to fulfill,” I tell her. “One of those obligations is to find a wife and have an heir.”

"A wife," she repeats, licking her lower lip, seemingly processing my words.

“Da.” I tilt my head. “And I've already found the perfect candidate."

She looks at me, her smile faint. "And… who is your candidate?

I lean closer to her and cup her face. "Don't pretend you don't know it,lisichka." I whisper against her lips. "It’s you."

She looks taken aback. "Do you truly mean that Maron?" she asks, searching my gaze.

"Yes," I say firmly. "I've never been more sure of anything."

"And… why me?"

I'm getting a little annoyed with all the questioning. I don't want to talk about this more than what’s necessary. I’d much rather show her my intentions by claiming her and making her mine.

I gently hold her face again. "Because I said so," I say curtly. I told her what she needed to know and I have no desire to waste more time talking about this. So, I end the conversation by kissing her.

As my lips crash into hers, a rush of emotions floods through me. In that moment, I forget about the dangerous world I come from, the obligations that weigh on my shoulders, and the secrets I keep hidden. All that exists is the warmth of Mindy'stouch, the taste of her lips, and the undeniable connection we have.

And relief. Relief that she’s responding to me. Relief that she wants me, despite being aware of my fucked-up background. Relief that I’m a good judge of character, after all. I knew all along that she was a resilient woman, one who doesn’t scare easily. And now, she’s proving that to be true.

As our mouths clash, Mindy's hands hungrily claw at my crotch. I break away from the kiss and saunter over to the leather couch, never breaking eye contact with her. A look of surprise crosses her face, but this time I want to take things slow. No more reckless lust. I want to savor every gooddamn second with her. I want to revel in the certainty that this vixen belongs to me.

"Now, strip for me," I command, my hand tightly gripping my throbbing cock.

With a half-smile, she follows my order and slowly removes her top. The skirt follows suit shortly after.

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