Page 188 of Bratva's Vow
“Decided what?”
I had to give him credit. He had his poker face on. If I didn’t know him well enough, I would have thought he had no plans for my birthday.
“Very funny. What are we doing for my birthday? I hope you didn’t spend too much on my gift.”
Maxim took a slow sip from his mug, eyes fixed on mine over the rim like he was reading me for tells. “Well,” he said eventually, “I figured I’d save myself the trouble.”
“The trouble?” I echoed.
He shrugged, setting the mug down. “You always say you don’t want anything. Always telling me I spoil you and that being with me is enough. So… no gifts this year.”
My fork paused halfway to my mouth.
“No gift?” I repeated, trying to keep the smile on my face. “Right. Of course. That’s… fine.”
But it wasn’t. Not really.
Because yes, Ihadalways said I didn’t need anything. Had rolled my eyes at designer watches, scoffed at limited-edition sneakers, and told him time and time again that I didn’t want him to spoil me. But the truth was, I’d gotten used to it. Not the money. Not the luxury. Him. His care. His ridiculous, over-the-top, I-will-move-the-sky-for-you kind of love.
And now he was saying he didn’t have a gift?
My stomach dipped in that irrational, childish way. Not because I needed something shiny. Just… the idea that he hadn’t thought about it. That maybe he didn’t feel the need to make a big deal. Although it was my first birthday of us being together.
I must’ve gone too quiet because he was suddenly smiling.
That smug bastard smile.
“You’re disappointed,” he said like he’d caught me red-handed.
“I’m not,” I lied.
“You are.” He leaned back in his chair, looking far too pleased with himself. “It’s written all over your pouty little face. What happened to ‘I don’t need anything, Maxim, your love is enough’?” He mocked my voice, horribly. “‘Material things don’t matter to me, babe.’”
“Oh my god,” I groaned, hiding behind my hands. “I never saybabelike that.”
“You say all of it. Multiple times. So I took you at your word.”
I peeked between my fingers. “Youreallydidn’t get me anything?”
A beat of silence.
Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small velvet box, and slid it across the table.
“You’re such an asshole,” I whispered, even as my chest swelled with relief and heat.
“Open it.”
I picked up the box, my fingers tingling with anticipation. It felt fancy. Too fancy for breakfast on the patio, barefoot with syrup on my fingers.
I cracked it open and… stared.
Inside was an anklet. But not the kind you buy at a department store on a whim. No, this was delicate and expensive. White gold maybe or platinum set with tiny diamonds. A fine chain that shimmered in the morning light. And right in the center hung a tiny charm in the shape of a lock, the letter M carved into it in script.
I didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. My throat got all tight and weird, like something had slipped past my defenses without asking for permission.
Maxim watched me like he was cataloging every twitch of my face. “If you tell me it’s too much, I can trade it in for a pair of socks.”
I huffed a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “I love it.”
