Page 33 of Sold to the Bratva
“It was,” I say simply. “He was just checking in.”
A flicker passes over his face, something unreadable, maybe suspicion, but he says nothing. I don’t know him well enough to guess what he’s thinking. For the first time it hits me. I have no idea how Isaac feels about my father. He might resent him as much as I do.
I can’t tell, and I’m not sure I want to.
All I feel is the ache swelling between us, as though last night never ended. It’s as if I’m still wrapped around him in the dark, whispering things I shouldn’t even want to say aloud.
His fingers graze mine on the table. It’s just a touch, but it’s enough to send a wave of heat up my arm.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he murmurs.
I swallow hard. “Me either,” I admit.
He takes a slow step closer, the edge of the table pressing against my ribs as he leans in. My breath catches in my throat, and every cell in my body seems to tilt toward him.
In a heartbeat his lips find mine. The kiss is nothing like last night, urgent and demanding, packed with everything we held back. There’s hunger, fear, and need. I rise, and he catches my waist, yanking me close until our bodies align.
His mouth claims mine as if to remind me I’m his wife now, and it works. I melt into him, surrendering every defense.
He breaks the kiss, his breath ragged against my skin.
“From this moment on, everything I own is yours,” he whispers, his voice hoarse with heat. “Whatever you desire, I’ll grant you.”
My heart pounds against my ribs and the first thought crashing through me is how much I want him.
13
ISAAC
Aweek slips by, and life slides into a strangely easy rhythm. Being married to Katya feels at once effortless and wildly exciting. I fall asleep with her in my arms and wake the same way, her limbs tangled with mine. We don’t even talk about the pull that’s present every night we drift together like magnets, exploring one another’s bodies and learning what brings the most pleasure. I’m already forgetting how it felt to sleep alone.
This morning is too quiet, however, and never a good sign. The stillness pricks at me in my world, calm feels like a setup, the distraction before the storm.
A quick knock, then the door opens. Mikhail steps in, expression grim yet steady. I motion to the chair across from me, but he stays on his feet.
“We still haven’t located the people behind the firearms drop.
I sigh deeply. Mikhail continues.
“Whoever they are, they’ve covered their tracks well. No chatter on the street, and none of our regulars have heard anything useful.”
“And the two we had in custody?” I ask, though I already know the answer. I need to hear him say it.
“They’re dead. Swallowed some kind of capsule they kept under their tongues. Ivan wasn’t able to get anything from either of them.”
I nod slowly, my jaw tight. “So,” I say, “the men we’re hunting are pros.”
“Smart ones,” Mikhail agrees. “But I’ve got people working on it. Someone will crack eventually. They always do.”
“I want updates as soon as you have them.”
“You’ll get them.” He pauses, then adds, “Also, the other thing you asked for is ready.”
I lift my eyes to him and meet his gaze. “Good.”
“She’s going to like it,” he says with a grin.
“I hope so.” I smile. “It cost a pretty penny.”
