Page 42 of The Bratva's Prisoner Bride

I didn't know why I suddenly felt inclined to meet her halfway after telling her again and again that my goals aligned with tormenting her, but it felt necessary.

Where I once found joy in being a complete ass to her, that same satisfaction just didn't appear like it had. I didn't know how or why that change happened, but it was getting harder to stay happy about my progress.

To my greatest surprise, seeing those small smiles of hers, and hearing the subtle changes in her tone that gave away how she was beginning to relax in my presence were more tempting. It moved something in me that I didn't think was possible, and despite myself, I just wanted more of it.

Even if the woman I fell for in Mexico was gone, the real Daria had her own charm, and I found her intriguing.

If I had to be honest, I'd say she wasn't all that different. I just had to give her a chance, and she had to do the same in return.

Whether it was the champagne, the food, or the fact that we hadn't fallen headfirst into an argument yet, Daria allowed those pleased smiles to settle on her lips more often, and something about it felt encouraging.

While we ate and talked, falling into a more natural pattern, I couldn't help but let the mental image of her painting and finding some sort of catharsis in it linger in my mind.

Aware of how upset and bored she had been back at the house without anything to do, I allowed that idea to fester until I knew my next step.

Once we were done with our meal and a new sort of peace settled between us, I met her gaze. "If you're ready to go, I have somewhere I'd like us to stop first."

Despite trying to appear mostly neutral, Daria perked up with a touch of curiosity in her features. "Where?"

That genuine interest nearly pulled a chuckle from me, but I kept it down and signaled for the waiter who had been keenly serving us all night. "Now that's a surprise."

A vague hint of annoyance at my refusal to tell her crossed her features, yet I could tell I had her attention.

Eventually, we left the restaurant with Dom in tow and made our way back to the vehicle before heading out. The city was alive with the usual nightlife while we hit up the main strip, and I enjoyed the chance I had to take in the look of wonder on Daria's face. The lights lit up her eyes while we passed beneath them, and I couldn't help but drink her in all the same.

Finally, we pulled up to the curb, and once the vehicle was in park, I patted the side of Dom's seat as a silent indicator, and he nodded once before getting out.

Daria peered out the window curiously before glancing back at me. "An art store?"

I couldn't help but smile faintly, and I nodded. "That's right."

A flicker of excitement moved through her eyes before she quickly schooled her emotions. She looked back at the store, watching as Dom knocked at the front door that had been locked.

"I think we're too late. It's closed."

There was a single light on inside while the 'open' sign had been shut off, indicating there was at least someone still around.

"Close? Nah. Not for long," I murmured, watching with veiled amusement while someone approached the door and spoke to Dom.

Daria seemed confused at first, then Dom gave us a nod, and she raised her brows at me. "Bribery?"

Letting my grin slip, I chuckled. "More or less...come on, let's see what they have, shall we?"

Even if she seemed surprised at first, Daria smiled back at me and wordlessly got out when Dom opened the door.

I didn't know what to expect before going in, but after the store owner gave us free rein of the place, it didn't take long for Daria to give away just how excited she was to be there.

She walked along like a kid on Christmas morning, taking in all of the supplies with a kind of wonder that was far too endearing. I followed while Dom remained a few steps behind, pushing the cart.

"I've seen more than a few art stores before, but this place is something else," Daria murmured with reverence, looking absolutely over the moon.

"I can't say I know much of anything about this kind of thing, but have your pick," I told her, taking in just how awestruck she looked.

She glanced back at me, pausing her steps. "Pick...paints?"

"Anything," I returned with ease, enjoying more and more how she seemed to struggle with the idea at first. "Paint, brushes, canvases...whatever you need. Whatever you want."

She couldn't hide her disbelief then. "You're serious?"

---