Page 19 of Bratva Bride

I leaned forward and grasped his wrist, halting his movements. I grabbed the knife and plucked it from his fingertips.

"Hey!" he chastised. He extended his arm trying to get the knife back, but I just swatted his hand away. "What the fuck, Turo?!"

"Children. Stop," Alessandro said halfheartedly, his eyes glued on his phone in front of him.

We both ignored him.

"Shut up," I snapped at Vin as I held the knife in the air, inspecting it.

It was a small thing, nothing special. The blade was about five inches long and had a black leather hilt. The letters 'IV' were engraved on the side.

"This is hers," I stated, staring at him.

"Yeah, and? She didn't try to take it back after she threw it at me. Finders’ keepers," he huffed, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms.

"What are you, twelve?" I scolded, shaking my head.

Vin pouted as I tucked the knife into my pocket and straightened my body.

"So, what now, Father?" I asked, tuning Vin out.

Alessandro kept his body still, his hand holding his phone in front of him. He flicked his fierce blue eyes my way as he spoke. "Now. . . we wait."

ChapterSeven

Illayana Volkov

The entire way home, no one spoke a word. Nope. Not a single. Bloody. Word. From the car ride to the helicopter, from the helicopter to Las Vegas, and from the drive to our home, it was complete and utter silence.

Talk about awkward.

My father was fuming. That much I could easily tell. His big, muscular body was seated next to mine on the drive home to the mansion. He didn't say a word to me, didn't even look in my direction, but by the way his jaw kept clenching I knew this quiet wouldn't last forever.

I pulled out my phone, dying for some sort of distraction right now. I opened the Instagram app and decided to do a little bit of cyber stalking. There's no harm in checking out my future husband, right?

I typed 'Arturo De Luca' in the search engine and wasn't at all surprised to find hundreds of fan accounts made about him. After sifting through all the junk, I finally came across his personal page. I clicked his profile.

Oh my lord.

The most recent upload was a photo of him shirtless, standing in front of a beautiful prestigious yacht. His entire upper body was covered in tattoos. As I zoomed in, I couldn't help the blush rising to my cheeks. Fuck he was hot. So, so hot. I wanted to lick him all over like a bloody ice cream cone.

His tattoos ran from his wrists all the way up his arms snaking out over his chest, down his torso and around his back, entwining together to form a beautiful piece of artwork, a complex design of patterns and swirls. I was dying to run my hands along that body, to trace his intricate tattoos with my hands. Or my tongue.

Definitely my tongue.

He had a sly smile on his face and his gorgeous blue-green eyes were covered with sunglasses. His face was sharp with sculpted lines and dark eyebrows. He looked dangerous. Sexy. Deadly.

After taking a quick screenshot (because come on, who wouldn’t), I sifted through his other photos. Nothing too crazy. Him in expensive tailor-made suits at functions or business meetings. Some shots of him next to fancy cars. In a few photos he was with a woman, but I skipped past those. No need to get myself even more pissed off than I already was.

The sound of a large gate being opened pulled me from my stalking and I realised we were finally home. My father still hadn't moved. His fists remained clenched on his knees the entire time and the scowl never left his face.

My eyes flicked to Aleksandr looking for support. He gave me a small smile and then shook his head ever so slightly, as if to say don't fight him, just take the punishment.

Uh, yeah fucking right.

Before the car had even come to a stop, I flung the door open and bolted. I barely acknowledged our head housekeeper, Flora, as I ran up the porch steps and inside to the house. If I could just make it to my bedroom, maybe I'd be safe.

Fat fucking chance of that, Illayana.

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