Page 55 of Plus-Size Bratva Bride

Another time, I found her in the break room. "Got a minute?"

She grabbed her coffee and headed for the door. "Not now. The quarter-end reports are killing me."

Each encounter left me more frustrated, more determined.

One night late, I'd finally had enough. This game of cat and mouse was ending today.

I spotted Pippa heading toward the high-roller room, her green eyes focused on the tablet in her hands. Without hesitation, I strode across the casino floor, my jaw clenched tight. The crowd parted before me—they always did.

Just as Pippa reached for the door handle, I caught her wrist. "We need to talk. Now."

Her eyes widened, defiance flashing across her face. "Abe, I—”

I didn't give her a chance to argue. I pulled her into a nearby private lounge, the door clicking shut behind us.

Pippa yanked her arm free, her cheeks flushed. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"What am I doing?" I scoffed, running a hand through my hair. "I'm trying to have a goddamn conversation with you. Something you've been avoiding for weeks."

She crossed her arms, her curves accentuated by her fitted blouse. "I've been busy. Some of us actually have work to do around here."

"Bullshit," I spat. "You've been running from me, and we both know it. Why?"

Pippa's eyes narrowed. "Maybe because you're an arrogant ass who thinks he can just snap his fingers and get whatever he wants?"

I stepped closer, towering over her. "And maybe you're a stubborn brat who's too scared to admit what she really wants."

"Oh, please." She rolled her eyes. "Enlighten me, Abe. What exactly do I want?"

The air crackled between us. I could smell her perfume, sweet and intoxicating. It was making it hard to think straight. "You want me," I growled. "Just as much as I want you."

“But you don’t want me,” she said angrily.

"Bullshit," I growled. "Try again."

Her carefully constructed walls began to crumble when she realized that there was no escape. "What do you want me to say?" she whispered. "That I'm scared? That I know you'll get bored of me eventually? That I can't bear to watch you realize I'm not enough?"

My eyes widened and I reached out without thinking, cupping her cheeks in my hand. Did she really just say that? “You can’t be serious!” I said in protest.

"I'm not one of your perfect, stick-thin supermodels, Abe. I'm just… me. Curvy, stubborn, workaholic me. And sooner or later, you're going to wake up and wonder what the hell you're doing with someone like me."

Fury ran through my veins, my voice rising to a thunderous roar. "Are you fucking kidding me, Pippa? You think I give a damn about some skinny model type?" I raked a hand through my hair in frustration. "Christ, woman, have you been blind this whole time?"

She flinched at my anger and fought back hard. "Blind to what, Abe? Your reputation? The way women throw themselves at you wherever we go?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Oh, I've seen plenty."

"Then you've seen everything except what matters!" I stepped closer, towering over her. "You think I'd risk everything—my time away from work, my family's privacy—for just anyone?"

"Your precious Bratva," she spat and then flinched, surprised by the venom in her own voice. "That's all that really matters to you, isn't it?"

My eyes flashed dangerously. "Don't you dare," I growled, taking her wrist for she didn’t give me her hand. "You have no idea what I've sacrificed to keep you safe."

"I never asked for your protection!" she shouted, her composure shattering completely. "I was fine on my own before you came along with your arrogance and your stupid, perfect face!"

"Perfect face?" I barked out a harsh laugh. "That's rich coming from the woman who's had me wrapped around her little finger since day one."

She blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. "What are you talking about?"

"You," I snarled, jabbing a finger at her. "With your curves and your sass and that damn red lipstick. You think I could ever get bored of you? You drive me fucking crazy, Pippa!"

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