Page 20 of The Bratva's Prisoner Bride

She was trying my patience. After fighting my plans, throwing an absolute fit, and then trying to sneak out of the house, she was pushing it.

While Daria certainly was giving me a headache in some aspects, I couldn't bring myself to just put an end to her and to the irritating situation as a whole.

It certainly would be easier, but I couldn't bring myself to harm her physically. No...I wouldn't get anything out of it.

But, if I kept her alive and made her suffer day in and day out, the satisfaction gained would be endless.

That was it...the reason why I was going through all of that effort in the first place. Tying her to me when I would've been done with it in any other situation.

In all honesty, she should've considered herself lucky, regardless of how she tried to resist that idea.

I could've raised a hand against her just from catching her in the middle of trying to slip away during the grocery delivery, but I didn't. I'd rather wait and watch as everything culminated to our elopement, where I'd get the greatest reward for my patience.

Daria had been nothing but a wild cat since I brought her home. Fighting and resisting whenever possible, regardless of her being under my complete control.

And yet, I was enjoying how easily I riled her up. How quickly she reacted to everything I did and said. It made her insolence worthwhile.

Her Zoey persona had been sweet and relaxed, and while I had no idea what the real Daria was like unprovoked and left to her own devices, I was savoring the current version of her while I could.

She was at my mercy, forced to brace herself for whatever I threw at her. Whether it was a harmless flirtation or an all-out taunt, she always gave me the reactions I wanted, and that fact alone reminded me of not only the power I had over her, but also all the ways she couldn't wholly resist me despite her efforts.

But at that moment, I seemed to have a completely different version of her.

Standing in that tiny chapel, dressed in somewhat regular clothes, the quick ceremony was underway, and Daria didn't utter a word. That wild cat from before seemed completely tame in comparison, speaking volumes of just how terrified she was.

While the officiant said the words, Dom stood as our silent witness, signing what needed to be signed before the time finally arrived.

Looking down at her, I couldn't help but take in her features. Regardless of the fear and subtle panic staining her face, she still looked beautiful. If anything, the slight widening of her eyes made them even more appealing.

Perhaps that suggested something about me, but I didn't care.

When we were pronounced husband and wife, cementing my attempt to secure her to me and extend that torment for as long as possible, I reached a hand out to cup her cheek as I moved in.

My eyes flickered down to those soft-looking lips at first, guiding my path until I felt them beneath mine.

I had been pining for that moment in Mexico ever since I met her, and while the circumstances were much different than I once imagined, I was seizing the opportunity as it came.

It should've been just a simple kiss—a light touch to make it all official. And the slight tension in her lips through her initial resistance should've turned me completely off from it.

But when Daria slowly eased into it as if losing her resolve, I did the same and gently melded our lips together.

For a flickering moment, I lost myself in it, allowing myself to drink it all in after wanting nothing more than exactly that for too long.

Even if our point of contact was minimal through my hand against her cheek and my mouth on hers, I could feel the warm, frantic heat that came from her body, and it was enough to make me want more despite myself.

As much as I wanted to prolong that kiss even longer, desires getting away from me, I snapped back to reality and broke the kiss to find her cheeks faintly dusted with color.

Everything seemed to freeze at that moment while I looked her over, letting it sink into what I had just done. What we had done.

She was my wife.

Something about it felt so strange—so absurd to even consider, given how badly I wanted her before.

But before I could dwell on any of it for too long, I forced myself to push it down and remember what I was doing it for.

As incredible as it felt to kiss her, and as much as I felt the urge to keep going, I couldn't let myself get caught up in it.

Marrying Daria had nothing to do with my fixation on her and everything to do with getting my revenge. That was all. It had to be it.

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