Page 34 of Brutal Bratva King

I feel my cheeks grow hotter and redder and I giggle, knowing the real reason I am flushed has nothing to do with the wound on my arm.

“In the business—is this something you have to deal with all the time? Is it normal?”

“Unfortunately, yes. You know, a lot of the guys who work jobs like this don’t come from a good upbringing or a healthy family life. They grow up learning that violence is the answer to most problems. I’ve had to learn how to deal with it. I have strict consequences in place and since we opened this business, we have reduced the number of issues—but there will always be things like this happening.”

I’m talking to him to try and distance myself from the thoughts in my mind but it’s not working. If I don’t get out of this small office space soon, I am going to be the one jumping him.

“Can we go for lunch or something? I think eating a little bit will help me.”

“Sugar.”

“What?” I say, confused.

“Sugar is good for shock. It helps calm the system. I know an excellent bakery nearby. Are you in the mood for something sweet?”

What I’m in the mood for is none of his business. I chuckle to myself.

“Did I say something funny?” he knots his brow and narrows his eyes towards me.

“No, I’m just—I’m happy we are all ok.”

He picks up my top from the back of the chair and hands it to me. He never tries to hide the fact that he is admiring my body. His boldness is taunting me. “Put this on. Let’s go and get you something tasty.”

With his help, I slip my top back over my head. He is very gentle guiding my injured arm into the sleeve.

He wraps his hands around my waist and lifts me off the table. I feel regret when he lets me go.

“Come on,” he says, holding out his hand.

I place mine in his, enjoying the physical contact.

He leads me out to the car.

Driving to the bakery, I am quiet and lost in thought about how much his fighting turned me on. It scares me a little.

I can’t help but wonder if I always had Dubrov’s aggressive nature despite the fact that my brothers did their best to shield me from it all my life. Was I always like that anyway? Like is it just something in my blood, unavoidable? I imagine most people would have been horrified to witness someone fighting another person like that right after almost being taken down by a gunshot—but I got turned on.

That’s not normal.

Maybe it wasn’t the fight itself but the idea that he was willing to do that for me. Because realizing that someone is willing to protect you on that level—it means he must care for me a lot more than I thought he did. I’ve been thinking this entire time that I was just a tool. A little trophy of some kind. He gets to parade his Dubrov wife around in front of everyone we know. But maybe I’m wrong about that. What if there is more to it than I think?

We park outside a quaint little bakery with pink walls and a bright purple frame around the doorway. Rodion opens my door for me and holds out his hand to help me out of the car.

My heart flutters just because of the way he looks at me. What in the world is going on with me?

Ever since he walked away the other night and left me hanging, desperately wanting more despite my better judgment, he’s been driving me crazy.

That’s all it is, though, isn’t it. Here I am, overthinking everything, but actually it’s just that my body never found satisfaction and it’s searching for it.

I roll my eyes as he leads me into the bakery.

I’m such an idiot for reading anything more into it than that.

Instead of going to one of the tables Rodion takes me to the glass display front around the counter. It’s filled with the most beautiful, delicate, fun, colorful-looking cakes I have ever seen.

My eyes light up and a grin splashes across my face.

“I knew you’d like it,” he chuckles and when I glance at him, I see he is watching my reaction and not even looking at the cakes.

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