Page 20 of The Bratva's Arranged Virgin Bride
And now I was married to her.
My flighty mother believed in fate, the stars aligning. I did not. Nat was nothing more than a means to an end, and I would do well to keep that in mind, especially now, when I longed to trace my finger down the side of her jaw. Jam my fingers into all that soft, flowing hair and tug her face to mine for a kiss I would make sure to savor.
As she lifted her hand tentatively from a rook to her remaining knight, her stomach growled. She gasped, horrified, her cheeks reddening again.
I swore to myself, wondering what in the hell I was thinking. It had been hours since we arrived here from the first wedding at the chapel. I jumped up, waving toward the door.
“Let’s eat something. The kitchen should be fully stocked, and I think you’ll be surprised at how well I can cook.”
She pressed her hand against her stomach, frowning at me, then back at the board. “I was about to win,” she grunted. “You’re just trying to get out of an embarrassing defeat.”
Rolling my eyes, I sat back down and stopped going easy on her, trouncing her soundly in two more moves. She stared at me in confusion, not quite sure what had happened when she was so certain of a victory. I leaned over to tap her chin, and she snapped her mouth shut.
“I always win,” I reminded her. “Now, let’s eat.”
