Page 39 of The Bratva's Innocent Sold Bride
“Your men stink,” she told me. “And there was probably more, but don’t worry, she didn’t share any of your big secrets. Except… maybe one.”
Curious, I put Masha out of my mind for the moment and sat down beside her with the dog lying down across our feet, giving up on either one of us throwing his toy. I knew dogs probably didn’t have a sleep schedule, but why wasn’t he in his room by now? My suspicions that CJ was sneaking him out in the middle of the night were confirmed. She was such a softie. Before I could ask about any secrets, CJ asked me where I was and why I ran out the way I did.
“You know, I have business emergencies all the time.”
“Not even a word, though? Not even a kiss goodbye?”
I raised an eyebrow, leaning close. “How about a kiss hello?”
Our lips touched, and she tasted like the Chardonnay she’d been downing since I left. For whatever reason, she still wore the green silk gown, but it was a bit worse for wear from sitting on the floor and letting the dog roll all over her. I was sorry I missed her and Masha’s little party. It had to be much more fun than finally meeting Anatoli.
“So, about the secrets Masha’s spilling,” I said.
She shook her head stubbornly, her graceful brows almost meeting in the middle. “Not until you tell me where you went. Why shouldn’t I know? How can just knowing be dangerous?”
“You need to go to bed, I think. No, I’m sure.”
She held out her arms for me to pick her up, a sure sign she was drunker than she believed. I pulled her close, and she locked her arms around my neck as I lifted her off the floor. Once I was on my feet, she rested her head against my shoulder.
“Mat?”
“Yes, little wino?”
Snickering, she seemed to lose her train of thought, looking up at me with big green eyes, the same color as the dress and the jade pendant on her necklace. “Oh, yeah.” She perked up, searching my face. “Is it true what Masha said, then?”
“Tell me what she said and I’ll tell you if it’s true,” I told her, starting carefully up the stairs.
The only detour I made was to get Artem in his room so he wouldn’t destroy the few pieces of furniture we had. A very expensive antique desk had arrived the day before, and I didn’t want to find its spindly legs covered in gnaw marks.
CJ shook her head, still refusing to tell me, as if I could read her mind or know what Masha had been telling her. The last thing I wanted to do was hunt down my cousin at that hour. She was probably passed out in her room since she wasn’t known to handle alcohol very well.
As I carried my tipsy wife into our bedroom, I asked her again what Masha had told her. What could she have said that would make CJ think it wasn’t true?
CJ’s grip was loosening from around my neck, her hands sliding down my chest. “Do you want me to be happy, Mat?”
The question stunned me into momentary silence. “More than anything in this world,” I admitted.
Her eyes were closed, she was limp in my arms, and a soft snore told me she didn’t hear a word of my reply. “Maybe that was for the best,” I told her, tucking her into bed and loosening the zipper to slide her dress down and off so she’d be more comfortable. “You wouldn’t remember anyway.”
I took an ice-cold shower and climbed in beside her. She barely stirred, only turning to face me as I lay my head on my pillow. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for this woman. Itprobably really was for the best that she passed out before she heard my answer to her question. It was too soon for her to know she had so much power over me, but I meant every word. Only her safety was above her happiness on my list of priorities.
Her long lashes rested on cheeks that were rosy from too much wine, and her hair was half in and half out of the updo she had it in at the gala. Gently pulling out the rest of the pins, I arranged her hair behind her on her pillow and watched her sleep until I contentedly drifted off myself.
The next day, I was awakened by her groan. My eyes flew open to see her sitting up, but hunched over and holding her head. I reached out and smoothed my hand over her bare back, and she turned to look at me through bloodshot eyes.
“Tomato juice with a shot of vodka will fix you right up.”
She made a gagging noise. “Not in this lifetime.”
“For someone who wasn’t drunk, you sure seem like you’re awfully hungover.”
Her laugh was cut off by another groan. “Did I try to convince you I wasn’t drunk?”
“Well, if you don’t remember, I’ll spare you and tell you that you were completely dignified. Walked up here on your own and everything.”
She took my teasing with good grace, telling me proudly that she didn’t have her first sip of alcohol until her twenty-first birthday.
“That’s impossible,” I said, amazed. “But surely you traveled to Europe? Not even a taste of their famous wines?”
