Page 56 of Secret Bratva Twins

One of them, a tall, thin woman in an ice-blue gown, steps forward, her smile too sharp to be genuine. “So, this is the new Mrs. Sharov,” she says, her tone dripping with false sweetness. “I must say, Serge, you have quite the taste for… unconventional choices.”

Chiara stiffens beside me, and I feel the tension radiating from her.

I don’t hesitate. My gaze locks on to the woman, my voice cutting through the noise around us like a blade. “Unconventional is simply another word for exceptional,” I say, my tone cold. “My wife is far more exceptional than anyone else in this room.”

The woman’s smile falters, her eyes darting to her companions for support, but no one comes to her defense.

Chiara glances up at me, surprise flickering in her expression, but she quickly schools it into something neutral.

“Let’s go,” I say, my hand resting lightly on the small of her back as I guide her away from the group.

We find a quieter corner of the ballroom, away from prying eyes and whispered judgments. Chiara turns to me, her brows furrowing. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” I reply firmly. “No one disrespects you and gets away with it. She’s lucky I didn’t get violent.”

Her lips part as if to argue, but she closes them again, her gaze dropping to the floor.

“Chiara,” I say, my voice softening slightly.

She looks up at me, her eyes searching mine for something I can’t name.

“Thank you,” she says after a moment, her voice quiet but sincere.

The gratitude in her tone stirs something deep within me, something I’m not ready to confront. I step closer, the scent of her perfume—a delicate blend of jasmine and vanilla—wrapping around me and fueling the fire that’s been burning inside me for days.

“You drive me insane, you know that?” I murmur, my hand brushing against hers.

Her breath catches, and she takes a small step back, shaking her head. “Serge, not here.”

Her protest is weak, and we both know it.

“Why not?” I ask, my voice low as I lean closer. “You’ve been avoiding me since that night. Always with the twins, always too busy.”

She doesn’t answer, her gaze darting away, but the flush creeping up her neck betrays her.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” I whisper, my lips close to her ear.

Her hands tighten around her clutch, and for a moment, I think she’s going to push me away. Then her eyes meet mine, dark and conflicted, and she doesn’t move.

I smirk, satisfaction curling through me. “That’s what I thought.”

Before she can respond, a waiter approaches with a tray of champagne, breaking the moment. I step back, adjusting my tie as if nothing happened, but the tension between us lingers, thick and unrelenting.

The waiter disappears, but the charged moment between us lingers. Chiara’s gaze flicks to me, her eyes dark with something I can’t quite place. She doesn’t say anything, just tilts her head slightly, as if daring me to make the next move.

I adjust my cuff links, forcing myself to focus on the sea of people around us. “You’re quiet again,” I say, keeping my tone light. “Nervous about being seen with me?”

She snorts softly, a sound that shouldn’t be as endearing as it is. “Hardly. If anything, I’m surprised you haven’t been stealing all the attention tonight.”

“Oh?” I smirk, leaning closer so my words are just for her. “You think they’re looking at me when you’re in the room, dressed like that?”

Her lips curve into a faint smile, but she quickly suppresses it, her voice calm. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Serge.”

“It’s not flattery,” I reply, my eyes scanning her face. “It’s the truth.”

She shakes her head, but her cheeks flush slightly, betraying her. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“You’re teasing me,” I counter, my voice dropping just enough to make her pause.

---