Page 14 of An Arranged Virgin for the Bratva

"You should be mingling, Vladimir. It's your wedding day, after all."

I turn to him, arching an eyebrow. "I'm observing. There's value in that, too."

Boris chuckles. "Always the strategist. Well, don't observe for too long. Your bride looks like she could use a rescue."

I follow his gaze back to Sofia. A group of older women corners her, their excited chatter visibly grating on her nerves. Her smile is polite, but I can see the tension in her shoulders and the way her fingers grip her champagne flute a little too tightly.

"If you'll excuse me," I murmur to Boris, already moving toward Sofia.

As I approach, I catch snippets of their conversation. "…and when can we expect little ones?" one of the women says, causing Sofia's smile to freeze in place.

"I'm afraid you'll have to excuse us," I interject smoothly, placing a hand on the small of Sofia's back. "I need to borrow my wife for a moment."

Sofia's back stiffens under my touch, but she allows me to guide her away. Once we're out of earshot, she steps away from me, her eyes flashing. "I didn't need your help."

"No?" I counter, keeping my voice low. "You looked ready to pour that champagne over their heads."

A flicker of amusement crosses her face before it's quickly suppressed. "I would have restrained myself. Unlike some, I know how to behave in public."

I lean in closer, my voice a low rumble. "And how do you behave in private, I wonder?"

Sofia's cheeks flush, but her gaze remains steely. "You won't find out."

"We'll see about that," I murmur, my determination only growing in the face of her resistance. This ice queen will melt for me, even if it takes all night. All year. All our lives.

Just then, the opening chords of a waltz fill the air, and I extend my hand to Sofia. "Dance with me," I say, my tone leaving no room for argument.

She hesitates, her green eyes narrowing. "Is that an order, Vladimir?"

"Consider it a request from your husband," I reply, allowing a hint of charm to soften my blunt words. “Besides, I see those aunts still vying for your attention.”

The alternative being too painful, Sofia immediately places her hand in mine, her touch cool and light. I make a mental note to thank those ladies later as I lead her to the dance floor, pulling her close as we begin to move. Her body is tenseagainst mine, but I can feel the underlying softness beneath her rigid posture.

"You truly look beautiful tonight," I murmur, my lips close to her ear.

She scoffs softly. "I always look beautiful.”

I burst out laughing, and spin her out, bringing her back toward me, my hand on her lower back. She maintains an unimpressed expression, but I see the way her chest heaves.

“It’s a lovely night, isn’t it? And I heard your sisters threw you quite the hen party last night.”

Sofia's eyes meet mine, a challenge in their depths. "This is a business arrangement, nothing more. We don’t have to make conversation like we’re a real thing."

"Is that so?" I let my hand slide lower down her back, feeling her sharp intake of breath. "Because I feel there's potential for much more between us. It would be a waste to live a life together as strangers, would it not?"

A crack appears in her facade—a slight widening of her eyes, a quickening of her pulse that I can feel beneath my fingers. She swallows hard, her voice slightly breathless when she speaks. "You're delusional."

But I can see the internal struggle playing out behind her eyes. The way her body unconsciously leans into mine, even as her words push me away. The chemistry between us is undeniable, crackling in the air like electricity.

"Am I?" I press, my voice low and intense. "Tell me you don't feel this, Sofia. Tell me, and I'll never mention it again."

The world around us fades away as I hold her gaze. The music slows, or maybe it's just my perception of time stretching out like molasses. Sofia's breath catches, her lips parting slightly.I'm acutely aware of every point where our bodies touch—my hand on the small of her back, her fingers gripping my shoulder, our chests nearly brushing with each breath.

I lean in, drawn by an invisible force. Her eyelids flutter, and for a moment, I think she might meet me halfway. The air between us is charged, heavy with possibility. I can almost taste her lips, feel the softness of them against mine.

But at the last second, Sofia turns her head. Her cheek brushes against mine, sending a jolt through my body.

"This marriage is on paper only, Vladimir," she whispers, her voice trembling slightly. "Don't forget that."

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