Page 17 of Dark Desires
Stephania waves from the head of the table, emerald dress poured over her curves like paint. She smiles bright, but her eyes flick from face to face, already drowning.
I thread through the stares, the cold blue eyes of Bratva men, Slavic cheekbones carved like knives.
“You came,” Steph breathes, relief ghosting her features.
“Please. I wasn’t about to let you have all this free food without me.”
She snorts. “You look amazing, Isa.”
I lean closer. “How are you really?”
“Overwhelmed.”
“One thing’s for certain. You’ll be the most beautiful Bratva bride.”
Her smile wobbles, then falls. “It’s not about me. It’s about Dad, your dad, the family. All of it.”
I swallow. Because I get it.
Too well. She’s being sold for power.
“At least tell me he’s hot,” I say, clinging to humor.
Her cheeks bloom pink. “Yeah. Super hot. Intimidating, but… yeah.”
Steph’s smile stiffens. Her gaze leaps past my shoulder, posture snapping hostess-straight. “Okay,” she whispers. “He’s here.”
I turn too fast, nearly body-checking a waiter.
And then I see him.
Alexei. We shared only first names. No phone numbers. No promises.
The next morning I got nervous about the repercussions of my family finding out.
About one of my father’s henchmen finding us so I did the only thing I could.
I ran.
Now my body reacts before my brain.
He’s not just handsome like I remembered—he’s unreal. Cut from the kind of stone that built empires. Ink snakes up his throat, teases from under his cuffs, hints of violence dressed in tailored black. His jaw is a hard line.
His mouth is sinful even at rest. And those eyes—icy, electric—find me like a sniper scope.
His arm is locked around Stephania’s waist, mid-smile, casual for everyone else but like a brand against my cousin’s skin. Heat and bile flip through me.
The man who dragged me out of an alley. The man who ruined me with a single, violent night. The man who got me pregnant.
Now I know his real identity. Alexei Plushenko. The Bratva prince—killer crowned in blood.
I had vanished the next morning like Cinderella — no goodbye, no explanation.
And now he’s here. With her.
The room shrinks to a tunnel.
Heat flares everywhere. I remember the brutal stretch, the way he stole my virginity like it was his right.
