Page 40 of The Bratva's Forced Innocent Bride

I stopped pacing from one end of the deck to the other, sick of the wind tossing sand on me. Inside, I found myself wandering in circles around the kitchen, and finally threw myself onto the couch in the living area, sick to death of the worry gnawing at my stomach and not letting me relax.

Why was I worried anyway? It wasn’t logical. I hated Max with a passion and spent most of my time dreaming about when this would finally be over. Except, I knew Max well enough by then to know he wasn’t going to give me up that easily. He was single-minded enough to keep this up for a very long time.

I didn’t have a long time. There was barely any time left at all before I lost everything. But until Max came home with all his limbs intact, I couldn’t make myself be concerned about that, so I went back to worrying about him.

Chapter 25 - Max

After making a big stink about leaving and getting home to Brooke, I barely staggered to the door before realizing my head was swimming, and my eyes were blurry. How many shots had we knocked back while discussing how to move forward with this new threat? Too many, obviously, and it would have taken just as long to call a driver to come get me than to just take a quick nap on Dima’s couch.

The suite was pitch black when I woke up, and I swore as I discovered it was nearly midnight. My little nap to sober up had turned into six hours of sleep. At least now I was safe to drive, and not only starving, but anxious to see Brooke. I still wasn’t sure if I was going to let her in on the news and risk frightening her, but it wasn’t something I’d have to worry about until morning because she was sure to be asleep when I got home.

Surprisingly, she was awake, not curled up in her favorite spot on the big leather sofa with a book, but sitting at the kitchen table with a thousand-yard stare. She jolted out of it when she heard my footsteps on the marble and let loose with a string of curses. All aimed at me.

Jumping out of her seat, she hurried over and grabbed my face in both hands, making me wince when her thumb dug into my bruised jaw. My shoulder still throbbed from taking the unexpected hit from the baseball bat and I let out a small groan when she tugged me closer to her level.

“What’s this? Why are you making that sound?” she asked, dropping her hands to run them down my arms. “Are you hurt?”

“Not much,” I said. “I forgot all about it until you grabbed my face.”

She scowled. “Forgot about what? Was it another attack?”

“It’s over,” I said. “Now, why are you still awake at this hour, and looking so forlorn?”

“Because of you!” she snapped, shocking the hell out of me.

What had I done to make her this upset when I wasn’t even home to antagonize her? This wasn’t her normal anger, either, but something different. Wait a minute…

“Were you worried about me?” I asked.

She immediately noticed the teasing tone in my voice, and her eyes flared, but I switched gears and clutched my shoulder, groaning louder this time.

“Oh my God, do you think it might be dislocated?” she asked.

“Just bruised,” I said, leaning toward her. “It was a surprise hit with a bat.”

She pulled my good arm over her shoulders and did her level best to help me upstairs, tutting about my profession. “I guess you’re probably lucky it was just a bat.”

“Well, explosives are a bit messy in a populated area,” I said, getting a slight jab in the ribs. I faked a gasp of pain that had her apologizing.

“Did you get hit there, too?”

“Yeah, just now. By you,” I joked.

She all but tossed me onto the bed once we were in our room and glared down at me. “You should have all those guards of yours do the fighting.”

“Then they’d get the reputation of being a badass, not me,” I said reasonably.

Trying desperately not to smile, she fluffed the pillows under my head with a bit more tenderness, then went to find an ice pack for my face.

“You have to stop being so manly,” she said, pressing it gently against my jaw and shaking her head. “I can see it’s going to be purple tomorrow.”

“What changed?” I asked, marveling at this new wife of mine, sitting beside me and holding ice to my bruise as worry creased her brow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snipped, but her cheeks started to get red.

“Oh, come on,” I laughed. “You don’t really think you’ve been the perfect little wife all this time? You tried to slap me just last night.”

Leaning back, the ice pack fell from her fingers. Why didn’t I keep my mouth shut and enjoy the ride while it lasted? Her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

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