Page 18 of The Bratva's Sold Bride

Tugging her a step back toward the lounge chair, she followed me, her mouth a frenzy against mine. My mind reeled as my hands moved back up her body to skim her full breasts. Her hands slid down the sides of my face to grip my shoulders, and I searched for a zipper on the back of her dress. Her wedding dress.

Olivia was mine.

My wife, my bride, and I was about to claim her.

Until she suddenly jerked away, shoving hard to put a foot of space between us. “I really did think better of you,” she said.

I blinked through the haze of hot lust that had so quickly consumed me. Disappointment shined in her eyes even though her chest was heaving with passion. My own breath came fast and hard, my heart hammering as if I’d just stopped running for my life. With a last look of pure rage, she stormed off.

It was better to let her have some time alone to think about what we’d just done, let her find her own room to sleep in for the night if that’s what she wanted.

As for what I wanted? Too fucking bad.

With a growl, I yanked my shirt off and dove into the pool in a futile attempt to cool off.

Chapter 11 - Olivia

Thankfully, Dima didn’t follow me, and I could catch my breath. Coming to my senses was another thing. I made my way through the mansion, peeking into every room I passed once I realized Dima wasn’t looming behind me.

The place was huge and utterly gorgeous despite clearly not being lived in for some time. I was shocked to learn he owned this secret paradise, especially since he certainly wasn’t too concerned with buying real estate in San Diego, having been living out of a hotel since the brothers made the move.

The rooms I looked into were either empty or sparsely furnished, but it only let my imagination run wild with how the airy, open spaces would look if someone lived here full time. Since the place was so grand, it was easy to imagine going full out with over-the-top decor, but if it was me, I would have kept things simple, but colorful, bringing in every local craftsperson to contribute something.

Well, it wasn’t going to be, because I didn’t plan on being there long enough. Upstairs, I found a smaller bedroom with two single beds and shut myself in to think. I needed a plan, and a good one, but it was difficult to concentrate when I was hungry, and the taste of that delicious stew was fresh in my mouth. That, and…

No, I wasn’t going to think about the kiss. Not when I had a moment alone to plot my escape. Pacing across the polished wood floor, nothing feasible came to mind. It would be insanity to try to escape on foot alone. Especially now that I knew about the snakes and pumas and whatever else Dima had tried to scare me with. I would have believed he was lying to keep me on ashort leash, but that had been honest concern shining from his eyes when he warned me.

Oh God, there I was, starting to think he might be human again. He wasn’t. He was just what I accused him of being. A monster. No different from my father or Rurik Kuzmin. When I had said that, the look in his eyes almost made me waver in my assessment. He looked absolutely gutted by my words. And then…

No, absolutely not. Not going to think about that kiss. Or the one at the church.

Since there was no good or safe way to escape just yet, it seemed like biding my time was the best option. But how much time did I have before Dima pressed the fact we were supposedly actually married and demanded a honeymoon? My track record of resisting was nonexistent.

Jumping up from where I’d been sitting on one of the beds, twisting the woven bedspread into a wrinkled mess, I paced from one wall to the next. Thankfully, I’d picked a room with a bathroom attached, and I splashed my face with cold water, but it did nothing to soothe my tattered nerves. Or cool me down.

Because I was thinking about the damn kiss.

Oh, why did I do that? It was bad enough when I gave into his intoxicating lips at the church, but I could write that off as being in shock. So, was I still in shock out by the pool when he grabbed me and pulled me right up against that rock-hard body of his? What even was that, because it felt very close to leaving the earth altogether.

I was supposed to be furious with him, and I was. I definitely was, but once he touched me, once his lips were on mine, I ended up on another planet.

“Planet Dumbass,” I muttered, looking at my reflection in the mirror. Water dripped off my nose and chin, and my hair had completely escaped the bun the girl at the church had put it in. I looked like an unfortunate mugshot. “You need to get it together, and fast,” I warned myself before heading back into the bedroom and flopping on the bed.

The reason behind my rapidly fading resolve, when he was too close, had to be because of all those times I’d let myself have little daydreams about him. When there was nothing to take notes on during a meeting, I could just watch him as he outlined one of his many plans. He always had such good ideas, and when he really got going, he’d push up his shirt sleeves with an impatient gesture, as if they couldn’t contain his rippling muscles. Even now, I was picturing the way he moved his hands, and remembering the feel of those long, strong fingers sliding down my back to grip my ass.

“Enough!” I hissed, sitting up and slapping both my cheeks.

But it wasn’t just gazing at his gorgeous face and body. Sometimes, I’d get a text message from him, asking what kind of mood Max was in after they’d gotten into a brotherly fight. How many times had I wished he’d keep the conversation going after I answered, or even asked me to join him for a meal since we were both alone in a new city? I had honestly liked that asshole.

I needed to cool down and fast before my feelings got all muddled, and I was the one demanding a honeymoon. Hurtling back toward the bathroom, I turned on the shower full blast and got out of my dress. My wedding dress. It really was very pretty, and the embroidery at the bottom hem was expertly done with pride and care. I couldn’t just leave it in a wad on the floor, but while there were towels and a few toiletries in the closet,there were no hangers, so I folded it neatly and placed it on the counter. It wasn’t the dress’s fault.

After a long, blistering hot shower, I had come to my senses again. No more reminiscing about what used to be, because that was all over, wiped out. Dima might have been a man I thought about having a crush on, might have passed himself off as sweet, kind, and funny. Helpful even. Someone you could count on and share your problems with. That kind of man.

No. He was the kind of man who exploited the desperate situation I was in, took me as payment, and proceeded to force me to marry him, completely against my will. That was who Dimitry Fokin really was.

With my skin beet red from the stinging water and my fingertips turned to prunes, I was more determined than ever to get myself out of this. It wasn’t just because it was my mother’s last wish. I never wanted this, either.

Dima might have been the perfect man before this, but even then, unless he was that imaginary high school football coach in my imaginary farm town, I absolutely would have refused to marry him.

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