Page 66 of Claimed Bratva Virgin

James Arthur’s “Car’s Outside.” It was so soft, so perfect, like it was part of this moment, too.

I blinked. I almost thought I had imagined it. But no, it was real. The song, the ring, the words. And I knew my answer anyway.

“I—” I finally whispered, still feeling the strange pull of it all. My voice was soft, unsure at first, but then it steadied.

“Yes.”

Chapter 21 – Rafayel

Four Months Later

“Can’t believe you went ahead and did it.”

Andrei clapped my back from behind, but his blue eyes held mirth when I turned around. He tipped his chin up, with that rugged jawline exuding a familiar intimidating air I’d already grown used to.

“You never listen to me, do you?”

“I did listen,” I said honestly. “But life happened.”

He shook his head, taking his glass to his lips. “Life never justhappensto you, Rafa. You have everything fucking planned out. If you didn’t want it, I wouldn’t be wearing a tuxedo.”

Andrei wouldn’t be anywhere in a tuxedo. My best man was scarce and always preferred working behind the shadows or undercover. Frankly, I’d known the man for decades, but today was the first day I saw him formally dressed up. His dirty blond hair was neatly styled, and the black tuxedo was a perfect fit, emphasizing his broad shoulders and lean frame and hiding the map of tattoos he’d inked all over his chest.

Andrei was family. Our bond went beyond blood; it was built on years of loyalty. He was one of the few men I could trust. He was right. Life didn’t happen to me;Imade things happen.

Having children before marriage was disallowed. It was tradition. So, this morning, Leonora and I got married. We swore our oaths before the priest, took our vows, and sealed it with a kiss in front of my men and family. Timur and Serena couldn’t make it, but I had Andrei and Tikhon standing firm by my side.

I fished her out from the crowd of people she warmly greeted and kept my eyes on her the entire time. She was breathtakingly gorgeous in her gown. I knew she wasn’t the fairytale-wishing type, and I wasn’t surprised when she insistedon keeping things simple, from the bun on her head down to her makeup, dress, and shoes. With her small baby bump more visible, Leonora’s glow intensified.

And yet, one glance at her had all the blood in my veins flowing south. She wasn’t even doing anything besides talking and laughing with people she didn’t know. And that was one of the things I liked about her.

Leonora was feisty, resilient, super smart, fucking sexy, and bitchy. But she also had heart. She didn’t wear it on her sleeve often, but it was there. She only stepped on your toes when you stepped on hers.

Neither Enzo, Marco, nor Matteo made an appearance, either, and I knew how much their absence affected her, even if she was too stubborn to admit it. She’d moped for a second, wiped the soberness off, and excused herself to grab a drink. She wasn’t ready to reconcile with her papa, and I had no intention of forcing her.

At the corner, someone tapped her shoulder and whispered into her ear, and in a second, they were on the floor dancing.

Leonora danced like she knew how to, undeterred by how many times she tripped on her own feet and almost knocked down the poor girl dancing. I recognized the girl—Mary. One of the maids. Bunching up her dress, Leo tried again, following her partner’s tune and swaying to the tunes.

When she threw her head back, laughing like she did when we talked about cars, warm fuzzies upset my chest, and it took me a minute to realize I was smiling.

“She’s got you whipped, Rafa. That’s for sure.” Andrei patted my shoulder before walking away.

****

“Dio mio.Today was one of the best days of my life.”

Leonora walked out of the showers, smelling like soap and jasmine, with a dreamy look in her eyes, as she wrapped a big fluffy pink towel around her hair. “I can’t remember the last time I partied so hard.”

Peeling off my shirt and pants, I chuckled at her silliness. “You partied hard at your own wedding?”

“Hush. Don’t judge, okay? I had fun.” Cinching her bathrobe, she hummed her way to the mirror by the dresser, picked a bottle of lotion, and bent over to start squeezing.

“Come here,”I said to her in Russian. She rolled her eyes but obeyed, dropping to the edge of the bed with her smile intact.

Taking the bottle from her, I dropped to my haunches to help her apply the lotion to her legs. It was a ritual she’d started two months into the pregnancy. Every night, before she slept, she’d apply lotion on her skin. I’d never told her, but watching her do it always drove me crazy with an insatiable lust that made me want to take her right there on that stupid dresser.

But she was pregnant, so I kept my cock in my pants because the doctor’s orders were to take things slow.

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