Page 33 of The Bratva's Sold Bride

But I didn’t. Nothing was normal about our relationship and he wasn’t a high school coach or a dentist. He was a Bratva king and nothing would ever change that. In fact, after only a few weeks in this new area, he was already buying up land and making contacts. It was just in his blood to take everything he saw.

Like he took me.

I gulped my juice to calm myself and quell the heat that the damp curls falling across his blue eyes raised in me. There was no way a few sweet gestures and a handsome face were going to sway me from my plans to escape.

“How about I whip us up some French toast?” he asked.

Impatience nipped at me, making me have to take a deep breath to keep from jumping off the chaise lounge and screaming that I wanted to get into town already. Anything to have to keep from yearning to reach forward and run my fingers through those wayward curls.

“How about you take a break from kitchen duty, and we have breakfast in town instead? You can leave for your meeting afterward.”

To me, it sounded like a plot that anyone could see straight through, but he shrugged and cheerfully agreed, not suspecting a thing.

“I’ll tell Andre we’re leaving earlier than planned,” he said, holding out his hand to help me up. “He can tag along and do the shopping with you when it’s time for me to leave.”

I took his hand, ignoring the warmth that spread up my arm at his merest touch. I guessed I should have been grateful he was so hellbent on running this area, because the only thing saving me from myself was that he came in so late every night, and I could pretend to be asleep.

“Sounds great,” I said, meaning it.

I could handle Andre. He was just as tough as the rest of Dima’s security crew, but his Spanish was even worse than mine, which might give me an edge once we were alone. He wouldn’t have a clue if I was telling someone at the grocery store that my husband was holding me hostage or enquiring how fresh the eggs were that day.

As we crossed under the arches and into the house, we both stopped dead at the sound of someone pounding on the front door.

No one pounded on our door. Señora Cruz let herself in through the kitchen entrance, and the building and gardening crews went around back, too. We never once had a visitor before and Dima jumped in front of me as one of his guards hurried forward to see who was out there.

He turned and gave Dima a confused look. “It’s Ivan,” he said.

“Fuck,” Dima said just as I groaned.

His brother’s sudden appearance could mean a lot of things, but at the moment I was only envisioning my well-planned and much anticipated trip into town getting nixed.

Dima strode forward and threw open the door to a grinning Ivan. All of the brothers looked so much alike, even with their different hair and eye colors. Ivan had Dima’s golden hair, but his eyes were brown instead of blue, and where Dima rippled with more lean muscle, Ivan was a bit shorter than him and absolutely stacked like a bodybuilder. His grin didn’t fade at all when Dima scowled at him, slapping his older brother on the back as he invited himself in.

“How the hell did you find me, and who else knows?” Dima asked, at least as annoyed as I was, but for a completely different reason.

“Max stopped buying your bullshit about being in Europe a week ago,” Ivan said. “And since you’ve been dodging everyone’s calls, I was tasked with finding you. I remembered this place and decided to give it a shot, but don’t worry, I haven’t told anyone about it.”

The ‘yet’ was implied and hung heavy in the air between the brothers. I only knew Ivan a little bit, and I could see he wanted something. A couple of years younger than Dima, he might as well have been my age with his reckless attitude always getting under Max’s skin and making me scramble to get safehouses ready to hide him until whatever mess he made was smoothed over. He loved a fight, and trouble of any kind sought him out like flies to honey.

Did I need to be worried about him knowing why I was here? It could seal my fate if the rest of the Fokins accepted the marriage, but it could also work to my advantage if Ivan was bored and wanted to stir things up. Or if he was irritated with his other brothers and wanted to help Dima out and keep the secret.

Holding my breath, I soon learned it was the latter, and Ivan was not interested in spilling the beans. He rightly suspected Dima was onto something big and wanted in on it.

“It must be pretty amazing for you to be hiding out down here in the middle of nowhere,” he said, seeming to notice me standing behind Dima for the first time since he arrived.

“Is that Olivia?” he asked, peering around Dima’s shoulder. “I thought you worked for Max?”

Before Dima could say anything, I blurted it all out. Every last detail. It was a risk, but I couldn’t have Ivan thinking this marriage was real if I wanted his presence to work to my advantage. I also couldn’t have him reporting back that Dima had finally found a bride, because if the Fokins decided to accept me as family, I’d never see freedom.

“Wow, a fake marriage, who would have thought of that?” Ivan said with an eye roll.

I pretended to laugh, but Dima didn’t join in. He looked pissed. I was not in a great mood either, since my plan had been pushed back.

“I guess I’ll find something to do in the garden while you guys talk,” I said, heading outside. There was nothing I could do but bide my time and hope I’d get another chance soon.

“To hell with that,” Dima grumbled. “Ivan’s not going to ruin our plans. He can tag along or not.”

Oh, hell, what did he mean by ‘our plans’? He was only supposed to grab a quick breakfast with me and then leave me in the hands of his guard, so I could start my manipulation tactics. Now, we’d probably spend the whole day together with Ivan, and I’d have zero chance of slipping away for even thirty seconds.

---