Page 11 of Plus-Size Bratva Bride

I stormed into my office, my heels clicking angrily against the polished floor. The moment the door closed behind me, I let out a frustrated growl, my hands clenching and unclenching at my sides. I paced back and forth, my curled hair bouncing with each step, trying to burn off the excess energy thrumming through my body.

"Who does he think he is?" I muttered, pausing to straighten a picture frame on my desk with more force than necessary. “Security would have handled it. I was about to call them in!”

The door swung open, and there he was, Abrahim Ustinov in all his infuriating glory. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest, his blue-gray eyes watching me like a hawk’s.

“What?” I asked, glaring at him.

"Something on your mind, Sweetheart?" he drawled, in a tone that set my teeth on edge. “You looked upset.”

I whirled to face him. "Don't 'sweetheart' me, Abe. What you did out there was completely out of line. I’ve handled difficult patrons without your intervention just fine so far."

He stepped into the office, closing the door behind him. "Is that so? Because from where I was standing, it looked like you needed a hand."

I could feel my cheeks flushing with anger, the heat rising to match the fire in my words. "I've been doing this job for years. I don't need you undermining my authority in front of the entire casino floor. Do you have any idea how that makes me look?"

I took a step closer to him, my heels clicking sharply on the polished floor. "It makes me look incompetent, Abe. Like I can't handle my own job without a man stepping in to save me."

Abe's eyebrow arched, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "And here I thought I was being helpful. My mistake, princess."

The condescension in his tone made my blood boil. "Don't you dare patronize me," I snapped, jabbing a finger at his chest. "I've worked too hard to build my reputation here. I don't need you or anyone else jeopardizing that."

He caught my wrist, his grip firm but not painful. For a brief moment, I forgot my rage as I looked into his gorgeous eyes and right then, they burned with a protectiveness I didn’t expect him to have. "Easy there, wildcat. I wasn't trying to step on your toes. But when I see a situation getting out of hand and saw you could be in danger—"

"It wasn't out of hand!" I interrupted, trying to ignore the warmth of his skin against mine. "I had it under control. You just didn't give me the chance to prove it."

Abe's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. "And if that drunk had decided to get physical? What then, Pippa?"

I lifted my chin defiantly, even as I felt a flutter in my stomach at his concern. "It’s a risk I was willing to take. That's part of my job."

He stepped closer, still holding my wrist, his proximity suddenly making it hard to breathe. "Your job isn't to put yourself in harm's way. That's mine."

I swallowed hard, acutely aware of how close we were standing. The scent of his cologne filled my senses, making me lose my chain of thought. My eyes flickered to his lips for a split second before I caught myself.

"I'm not some damsel in distress, Abe," I said, my voice softer now but no less determined. "I don't need saving."

His gaze softened slightly, a hint of admiration creeping into his expression. "Maybe not. But has it occurred to you that I might want to keep you safe anyway?"

The air between us crackled with tension. Abe's words hung in the air, heavy with implication. My heart raced, anger and attraction warring within me.

"I don't need you to keep me safe," I whispered, but my voice lacked conviction.

Abe's hand slid from my wrist to my waist, pulling me closer. "Maybe you do," he murmured, his breath hot against my skin.

I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Our faces were inches apart, his dark eyes boring into mine. The argument faded away, replaced by a burning need I couldn't ignore.

I stepped closer, my fist grabbing his shirt before I could stop myself.

"Abe, I—"

His lips crashed into mine, silencing whatever weak protest I was about to make. The kiss was fierce, hungry, filled with all the pent-up frustration and desire we'd been dancing around for days.

I melted into him, my hands fisting in his shirt as I kissed him back with equal fervor. His tongue swept past my lips into my mouth, and I gasped at the sensation, my knees going weak.

Abe's arm tightened around my waist, supporting me as he deepened the kiss. His other hand tangled in my hair, messing up the carefully styled curls I'd spent an hour on this morning. I couldn't bring myself to care.

My mind reeled, struggling to process the conflicting emotions coursing through me. This was Abe—infuriating, overprotective, maddeningly attractive Abe. I should be pushing him away, not pulling him closer. But god, it felt so good.

My hands trembled as they moved from Abe's shirt to his shoulders, then hesitantly to the nape of his neck. His skin was hot under my fingertips, and I felt his muscles tense at my touch as I pulled him closer and lapped at his tongue. A low growl rumbled in his chest, sending shivers down my spine.

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