Page 31 of Stolen By The Bratva King

If I’m honest with myself, I’m genuinely curious.

Perhaps this isn’t a nightmare after all. I know I should be angrily plotting my escape, but something about his words stirs me inside.

I can almost hear him now.You’re mine.

What if he reallydoessee me? Not as a pawn or an accessory… but as his equal? As someone worth fighting for?

It’s absurd.Ludicrous.I barely know him. He’s dangerous, controlling, obsessive.

Yet he reallydidsave me. Protected me from Dante’s cruelty, from my father’s cowardice.

And he’s given me space. Despite his possessive words, he’s giving me time to breathe, to adjust.

It would be easier if he were a monster.

If he was like Dante, pathetic and manipulative, then I wouldn’t feel this pull, the raw, simmering need that’s only growing stronger.

But he’s not Dante. He’s like no one I’ve ever known.

I lie on the bed, exhausted, my thoughts whirling in every direction. My eyes are closing, and the lids are suddenly like lead.

I’ve always been passive, so I could let something happen.Right?

21

Leon

Hot water streams over my shoulders, sluicing away some tension, but not enough. Not nearly enough.

I smashed the shit out of the punchbag until my knuckles were numb, but it didn’t hit the spot. I’m still wound tight, seething with the need to claim what’s mine.

God fuckingdammit.

She’s here, in my space, filling the air her presence. She got me messed up from the moment I carried her away from the church and into my world.

I’ve been losing my mind for days, but watching her from a distance is nothing compared to having her under my control. She has myname, for fuck’s sake.

Emery is mywife.

I scrub a hand over my face, breathing slowly, trying to keep myself in check.

This pull Emery has on me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. I’ve always prided myself on my discipline, but with her, it’s a thin line between control and something darker.

Through the misted glass, I catch a glimpse of movement.

Emery’s shadow hovers by the door, watching me. Her face is partially hidden, but the way her hand grips the doorframe tells me everything.

She’s curious, and she’s fighting it. I can practically feel the war going on inside her, the clash between anger and something hotter, something that makes her linger despite herself.

You wanna play, baby?You got it.

I keep my movements unhurried and deliberate, pretending not to notice her as I shut off the water. She ducks out of sight as I turn around, but I know she’s still there.

“Emery,” I say, wrapping a towel around my waist and stepping out of the shower. “Get your big beautiful ass in here. You’re busted.”

She reappears around the doorframe.

“It’s weird of you to creep in while I’m asleep and use the shower!” she exclaims. “You don’t expect me to believe there isn’t a second bathroom in this high-rise hellhole?”

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