Page 20 of The Bratva's Sold Bride

“It’s not too fancy, is it?” she asked. “My other clothes aren’t too clean.”

“You look stunning,” I said, then frowned. “Did I forget to tell you that yesterday?”

She shrugged as if it didn’t matter and followed me to the car, swiping a notepad and pen off the counter on her way out. She fell silent again on the drive, and in town, we parked at the cantina on the outskirts and walked along the main road to take in all the local businesses, where she perked up at all the new sights.

“First, we should probably get some clothes,” she said, frowning.

“Good idea since the ones I ordered online will take a while, but why the look of despair? Sure, there’s probably not going to be any Chanel boutiques here, but—”

She whirled around and cut me off. “You should know I don’t care about stuff like that.” Now she looked hurt, and then exasperated. “I just don’t want to owe you any more than I already do.”

“You don’t owe me a damn thing,” I snapped.

“And yet, here I am,” she muttered.

I didn’t bother to tell her the fifty or so bucks I was about to spend on t-shirts, and shorts was a drop in the bucket compared to the three-quarters of a million her father siphoned off of me, but I kept my mouth shut. That wasn’t Olivia’s problem; she shouldn’t have been part of it.

Once we started shopping, she lightened up and was actually pleasant. Too pleasant, and worse, efficient. She whipped out that little notepad and jotted notes and checklists, reeling off questions about what was already in the pantry as we headed for the grocery store.

She was acting like a damn assistant, and I fucking hated it.

So much that I pulled her into the alley between a meat market and the small grocery store, pressed her up against the brick wall, and kissed her soundly. She was my wife, nothing else. I wouldn’t have her think she worked for me, or owed me anything.

In a moment of our lips touching, her hands flew to my chest, but this time they didn’t shove away. Instead, she curled her fingers into my shirt at the same time, her head dipped back so I could kiss her more deeply.

Her moan was intoxicating, and I gripped her waist, kneading her soft curves. This was how I wanted things to be between us. Secret kisses while the rest of the world passed us by. The fact she wanted me as much as I wanted her was driving me wild. Tugging her closer so that our bodies ground together, she gasped against my mouth at the feel of how hard I already was.

“It doesn’t take much,” I growled, tasting her throat for a split second before returning to her juicy lips.

Making an unintelligible reply, she raked her fingers into my hair as she arched her back. Now it was my turn to moan as her lush tits rubbed against my chest, the feel of her taut nipples further unleashing my already untethered lust.

“My God, Liv, what do you do to me?”

Digging her fingers into my hair, she shoved me away, dragging my lower lip between her teeth as she broke our fierce and fiery kiss. The look in her eyes was tortured, and I was sure mine reflected a similar pain.

“What do I do to you?” she spat, trying to wriggle out of the cage of my arms. “What are you doing to me? What is this for?”

I looked down at her swollen lips before returning my gaze to her chocolate eyes, now brimming with anger.

And once again, I was certain mine reflected the sentiment. I was starving for her mouth again.

“I needed to remind you that you’re my wife, not my employee. I’d actually rather have you giving me death glares than blandly agreeing to everything I say.”

She turned away, refusing to answer, so I gripped her chin and forced her eyes back to meet mine. “Do you actually really hate me?” I asked quietly.

“I do now,” she said, just as low.

A smile began to slink onto my face. That meant she didn’t always. “But did you hate the kiss? Be honest, because I’ll know if you’re lying.”

A blush rose up her throat to overtake her cheeks as she gave me that death glare I’d been wishing for. “No,” she finally whispered.

In an instant, our mouths crashed together again.

Chapter 13 - Olivia

Damn it, damn it, damn it. For a little while there, I believed I was on some fantasy honeymoon, or at the very least, a dream vacation. I was surrounded by the most beautiful scenery I’d ever witnessed; the small town was quaint, and its residents were friendly and welcoming.

Most of all, Dima was utterly charming and trying to spoil me rotten by buying up everything I even glanced at, even though I had been flatly refusing everything I didn’t need. I was in my element, making lists and getting everything in order, actually in the first good mood since Papa confessed his latest debts.

---