Page 26 of Stolen By The Bratva King

Saving me.From Dante? Or for himself?

I scan the sea of faces in the pews. They came to witness a union of wealth and power, an arrangement that would secure Dante’s hold over my family’s assets.

Now, Leon is the one orchestrating everything, and no one seems to bat an eye.

Yet in the strength of his hand, I sense his confidence, and despite myself, a wretched inkling of relief crosses my mind.

I tear my gaze away, and Leon’s eyes flash, his hand tightening around mine.

“Emery,” he says, his voice hardening. “There’s nothing to understand. You have no choice here, so follow my lead.”

He’s nuts.Who does he think he is, stepping in here, taking over my life as if he has any right?

I’m struck by the crushing weight of inevitability. A man coerces me into marriage for his own gain and without a thought for what would make me happy. Who cares if it’s Dante or Leon? The outcome is the same.

The priest clears his throat, his words a distant murmur in my ears. I force myself to breathe and stay calm, but my thoughts are tangled.

Every time I look at Leon, that undeniable attraction flares. It’s infuriating because I have no idea how to hide it, and it pisses me off that he can tell.

For his part, he’s focused entirely on me, those intense eyes never leaving my face, and I feel like I might melt beneath his gaze.

When the priest asks if I’ll take Leon as my husband, I open my mouth, ready to refuse. The wrong words emerge from my lips, my voice a shaky stammer that echoes through the quiet church.

“I… I do.”

It’s surreal, like I’m trapped in someone else’s life, an exciting story of danger and passion that doesn’t belong to a woman like me.

Leon speaks his part with a reverence that should seem like mockery under the circumstances. With each vow, I feel myself slipping further from everything I know, deeper into something I can’t control.

My old, familiar life is fading, replaced by a new, mysterious one. I can’t decide whether the unknown is worse than the horrible future I’d come to terms with.

All I know about Leon is that he’s dangerous, boundary-stomping, sexy to the point of distraction, and one Hell of a good kisser.

Dante never stirred up my body the way Leon did the other night, that’s for sure.

It doesn’t make it right.

No one ever gave me a second glance; this kind of possessive power play is beyond my imagination. It might happen to a gorgeous, unaccountably single leading lady in a movie, but not to me.

Finally, we’re announced as husband and wife, and Leon’s hands move to my waist, pulling me close until his face is inches from mine.

His hands hold me in place as if daring me to resist, and my mind goes blank, my body responding before I can think.

He lowers his lips, and the memory of our stolen moment in the hospital comes flooding back. His kiss is firm and unrelenting, and I’m instantly lost in his delicious warmth; his tongue is lively as it invades my mouth, his solid chest supporting me as I succumb.

He breaks away, and I’m undone. His mouth grazes my cheek as he whispers.

“I’m keeping you, Emery Vasilieva.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” I reply, my voice unsteady.

His eyes shimmer with amusement. “Watch me.”

19

Leon

The wedding limo is parked outside, but so is my black sedan, and I’ll be damned if I’m making awkward small talk with Alec and his buddies at some high-society soiree.

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