Page 30 of Plus-Size Bride Forced By the Bratva
Ravyn had occupied that spot in my mind so quickly.
Fuck.
She was living rent-free in my head, and I couldn’t stop imagining what it would feel like to kiss her. I always fought the urge to be intimate with her, even though deep down I wanted more than just to kiss her.
I wanted to fondle those breasts, taste her juice, and bury myself deep inside her. My pride wouldn’t let me go down that path. Not yet. How could she have such an effect on me without even trying?
Ravyn was toiling with me in ways that no other woman had been able to—not even Vivian. It was strange how I didn’t just want to taste Ravyn; I also wanted to keep her safe, to protect her at all costs.
Why did I feel this obligation to protect her if I didn’t give a shit about her? This marriage was nothing but a strategy for me to achieve my plans. But it appeared things were different now.
I might not be sure about many things at the moment, but one thing was clear. If I didn’t take control of this strange situation, it could spiral out of control faster than I expected.
***
I was busy in my study, reviewing some files, when a knock on the door stole my attention. My brows furrowed at the unwelcome distraction. Everyone at the house knew that I had a strict “Do not disturb” policy when I was working.
It couldn’t have been Ravyn; she lacked the patience or courtesy to knock first. If it were her, she would’ve just barged in unapologetically. That soft knock indicated that the individual outside was one of my staff.
This better be good.
“Come in,” I said.
The door creaked open, and a maid stepped in, her eyes downcast, hands behind her back. She greeted me in Russian before switching to English, her tone flavored with a local accent. “There’s, uh…there’s a package that arrived for you just now.”
I paused, my gaze fixed on her, wondering why she was reporting it instead of delivering it to me. “Where is it?” I asked, my voice low, tinged with a hint of curiosity.
“In the living room, sir,” she answered.
My brows furrowed in displeasure at her incompetence. She knew the routine; every package had to be delivered directly to me.
She noticed my annoyance and quickly explained myself. “I was going to bring it up here, but then….” The words stuck in her throat.
“But then what?”
“Miss Ravyn—I mean, your wife,” she stuttered. “She—she asked me to hand it over to her.”
My jaw tightened at Ravyn’s lack of respect for my personal delivery.
The maid continued, “Sir, I tried to tell her about your rules, but she insisted, and she—”
I rose to my feet and headed out of the study, leaving the maid standing there, confused. Ninety-nine percent of the time, the packages delivered to me were more threats than gifts. And I had a gut feeling that today’s package was no different.
I hadn’t gotten to where I was in the criminal underworld without making a few enemies along the way. And these guys would stop at nothing to try and bring me down.
Suddenly, that anger at Ravyn shifted to deep concern for her safety because there was no way to know what the hell was in that package today. The last time a package came to the mansion for me, it was the severed head of one of my most loyal men.
The bloodied head was a message from an enemy of mine, a warning that they were a force to be reckoned with. Of course, my retaliation was worse; for one life, the heads of ten of his men were delivered to his doorstep.
Let’s just say the bastard learned the hard way never to mess with me again.
Today, only God knew what was in the package and who sent it. If it turned out to be another head, Ravyn would be traumatized by the sight for life. I couldn’t let that happen; I couldn’t subject her to such a horrible image.
My footsteps pounded against the steps as I hurried down the stairs, hoping she hadn’t opened the package yet. However, I was too late. She already had.
Ravyn stood in the living room holding a bloodied knife, thick crimson liquid dripping from its edge. A hand covered her mouth, and her eyes were wide with fear. The unboxed package sat on the coffee table in front of her as she looked at it with a horrified expression.
She picked up a bloodstained note from inside the box. Her lips quivered slightly as she looked at it, as if having trouble reading what was written.
