Page 46 of The Bratva's Virgin Bride

I work for a few hours before I realize it's getting really close to dinnertime. I go downstairs and fire up everything. I take the meat out of the fridge and season it. While it cooks, I chop up cucumber, cabbage, tomato, carrots, and eggplant. I fry the eggplant in a separate pan and once everything is ready, I lay it out on the dining room table.

I warm up the pitas and bring through the hummus and tzatziki.

It smells amazing, and I hope it tempts Riley. I go to the stairs and call, “Riley, dinner's ready.”

I hear her door open, and I go to sit down. She comes downstairs and stops at the door. “What's this?” she asks, the first words she has said to me all week.

“I made dinner,” I say. “I thought you might enjoy some Greek food. It isn't traditional by any means; I cheated. But it should taste good.”

“Hmmm,” she hums. She comes to the table and sits down.

I jump up. “I forgot the wine. I'll be right back. Red or white?”

I look at her hopefully and she sighs. “Red.”

“Good choice,” I say. I go get two wine glasses and a bottle of my finest red wine and bring it back to the table. I uncork it and pour us each a glass. “Please dish up.”

She picks up a pita bread, and I watch as she spreads hummus on it. She fills it with all the options before adding tzatziki. I wait for her to finish before making one for myself. She takes a bite, and I hear the faintest moan escape her lips. I suppress a smile and take a bite of mine. It really does taste good. We eat in a more comfortable silence. It's not as tense, and Riley keeps glancing at me.

“Anya was here today,” I say. “I made amends with her.”

“Good,” Riley says. “Then maybe we can discuss what's been on my mind.”

“Riley, I'm sorry I shouted,” I say calmly. “I was just worried.”

“I understand that. Believe me, I know fear better than any other emotion I've ever experienced. But that's why we need to talk. I've spent the week thinking long and hard about this.”

I sip my wine, now worried that she might suggest leaving. I can't let her do that. I can't lose her. My feelings for her are intense, and I dare say I'm in love with her.

“Riley…”

She holds up her hand. “I want to learn some self-defense.”

I look at her, stunned. “Sorry?”

“I want to learn to defend myself. So that when I'm in a situation where I'm unsafe, I'm not afraid and I can proactively take care of myself. Can you hire someone to teach me to defend myself?” She looks very serious and I nod.

“I won't hire someone. I will teach you myself. Like I was taught.” I finish my food and sit, sipping my wine. “Does this mean you're not afraid anymore?”

“I'm terrified, but I don't want to huddle in a corner,” she says. “I don't want to be useless when something happens and wait for someone to rescue us. I want to rescue myself if I can.”

“Not every situation will allow for that,” I admit. “Sometimes people just have the upper hand.”

“I know,” she says. “But I want to at least have a chance.”

“Does this mean we're talking again?” I ask curiously.

“Maybe,” she says, sipping her wine. “Maybe after another Shawarma.” She reaches for another pita bread and I grin.

I finish my wine and set the glass down. “Does this mean you'll return to our bedroom?”

“Only if you don't snore,” she says, looking into my eyes. “And if you are genuinely sorry for shouting at us. All of us.”

“I am,” I say. “I really am sorry. I wish I had let calmer heads prevail, but I was so worried, and then I heard about the shootout. I could have lost you, Anya, and Gwen.”

Riley sighs. “I know,” she sets her food down. “But we honestly didn't think they would attack us in public like that.”

“Well, now you all know, nowhere is safe. They don't care about hurting other people to get to the people we love. To get to us. I need you to promise me that we'll have open communication from now on. If you want to surprise me, then at least tell Anton or Roman. Okay?”

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