Page 89 of Used Bratva Bride

I reach for the zipper of her dress, dragging it down slowly, watching the fabric loosen and slide down her shoulders. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away.

She lets me undress her, the silk pooling at her feet.

She does the same for me, her fingers hesitant but then sure as she unbuttons my shirt, brushing against my skin. Every touch leaves a fire in its wake.

We slip beneath the sheets, my arms pulling her against me, her body curling into mine as if it belongs there.

Her breath evens out, warm against my chest, her fingers resting lightly over my heart.

I press a slow kiss to her temple, inhaling the soft scent of her hair.

For the first time in years, I don’t feel the weight of the world on my shoulders.

With her in my arms, I simply exist.

I could never ask for anything else.

Chapter Twenty-Four - Julie

A year ago, I never would have imagined this moment. Standing on stage, under the glow of bright lights, speaking to an audience filled with investors, entrepreneurs, and some of the most influential figures in the industry. My industry.

I smooth my hands down the sides of my tailored dress, fingers barely trembling as I grip the microphone. The launch of Crafted Connections is bigger than I ever expected—bigger than I dared to dream.

The event hall is packed, the energy electric. Everywhere I look, I see excitement, admiration. I see my team, beaming with pride. I see rows of successful business owners and visionaries, gathered to celebrate this new venture. And then—my gaze lands on him.

Mikhail.

He’s seated in the front row, his usual cold, unreadable demeanor softened into something else entirely. His dark eyes gleam, his lips tugged into the faintest smirk, but it’s the pride in his expression that nearly knocks the breath from my chest.

Pride in me.

I clear my throat, pushing through the overwhelming emotions rising inside me. “I want to thank everyone who made this possible,” I say, my voice steady, though my heart pounds. “My team, the incredible artisans and small-business owners who trusted me with their work, and our investors and partners who saw the potential in this idea and helped bring it to life.”

A pause.

My eyes find Mikhail’s once more, drawn to him like a force beyond my control. He tilts his head slightly, waiting.

“Also, I’d like to make a special thank you—” I inhale deeply. “—to my husband, Mikhail Sharov.”

A murmur ripples through the crowd, a few hushed whispers. His name still carries weight, still evokes a certain level of intrigue—and fear.

None of that matters to me.

I hold my chin high as I continue. “Your support and belief in me made this possible. I don’t think I say it enough, but… I’m grateful for you.”

Mikhail’s smirk deepens, his fingers tapping lazily against his knee. I know that look. He’s enjoying this—being acknowledged in public, being the reason behind my success. Not because he craves attention, but because he knows he played a role in something meaningful to me.

A slow round of applause builds, swelling into a full standing ovation as I finish my speech.

Success.

It’s real. Tangible. Mine.

***

The night air is crisp as I step outside the venue, the weight of the evening still settling over me. The launch was everything I hoped for—and more.

Beside me, Mikhail is relaxed, one hand in his pocket as he watches me, like he’s waiting for something. Maybe for me to say I can’t believe it’s real. Maybe for me to let out all the excitement I’ve been holding back.

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