Page 58 of Bratva Bride

Arturo stiffened, his fork frozen in the air. I kept going.

“He crept into my room and when he saw me, jumped into my bed. I tried to scream, but he put his hand over my mouth and pressed his body on top of me. I remember how heavy he felt, the stench of alcohol and smoke on his breath. I thought I’d vomit. When he reached down to take my clothes off, something snapped in me. I had been practicing with knives for years and always kept one under my pillow. It was my favourite one, and Lukyan liked to steal my things so I thought by keeping it under my pillow, he could never steal it. I grabbed it and stabbed him in the throat. His blood poured over me like a waterfall, drenching my clothes, and when his hand left my mouth I screamed as loud as I could. My father and brothers came in and hell broke loose after that.”

Arturo’s eyes were soft. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” he whispered, leaning forward to run his fingers over the top of my hand.

I shrugged. It was traumatic, for sure. I had nightmares afterwards. I was terrified someone was going to sneak into my room again and I used to cry myself to sleep until Aleksandr came and slept on my bedroom floor. He promised to watch over me during the night and not let anyone hurt me. For months, he slept on a crappy air mattress at the foot of my bed until I was better. But I would never tell Arturo that.

“How’s the food?” I asked, looking at his near empty plate.

“Good, thank you,” he said, pulling his hand back. He took a few more bites, finishing it off. He pushed the empty plate forward and leaned back in his chair. He studied me for a moment. “You didn’t tell me your father was the Bratva Butcher.”

I shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”

“Hmmm.” Was all he replied with.

I picked his plate up and took it to the sink, washing it and putting it in the dish rack.

I gasped in surprise when Arturo’s hands gripped the kitchen bench in front of me, his arms boxing me in. I didn’t even hear him move. One second, he was at the table, the next he was standing behind me, his chest pushing into my back as he crowded me, invading my space. His scent surrounded me, and I wanted to bathe in it. He smelled so fucking good.

“Is there anything else you need to tell me?” he whispered into my ear, making me shiver.

“Not that I know of,” I breathed, pushing my ass into his cock. I couldn’t help it. Whenever I was around him I just wanted to touch him, to feel him. His body was all hard, toned muscles. The body of a man who worked hard, fought harder and lived a rough, dangerous life.

He flexed his hips and pushed me forward, pinning me into the kitchen bench with his body. “You surekotenok?No more surprises?”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of surprises. You’ll just have to wait to find those out though. I’m not spoiling the fun.”

He kissed the side of my neck softly, just a light touch of his lips against my skin and it gave me goosebumps. And then he bit down, hard.

I moaned and reached back, wrapping my hand around his nape and holding him to my neck, wanting, needing more.

He sucked my skin into his mouth and let it go with a pop. “I can’t wait to find out then,” he murmured.

His phone started ringing. He gave me one more quick kiss and then stepped back, pulling his phone out of his pocket and answering it.

“What?” he barked.

I turned around and propped my ass against the kitchen bench, running my hands over his chest. His muscles strained against the fabric of his shirt and I loved the feel of all that hard, powerful muscle beneath my fingertips. The firmness and sculpted definition of his body made me so wet I soaked through my fucking underwear.

Arturo stiffened. “What the fuck do you mean you haven’t found him yet, Vin?” he snapped into the phone. Tension rolled off him, his anger increasing as he listened intently. “I don’t give a fuck what you have to do, find him! I’ll be back soon and I want him in the dungeon next to Marco by the time I get back.”

He hung up and exhaled heavily.

“Something wrong?” I asked, my tone light.

“Just business. Nothing to concern yourself with.”

I frowned. “Maybe I can help?”

“You can’t. I have to go.”

He turned and began walking away. He was dismissing me.

Oh, hell fucking no.

My anger spiked. I picked up a butcher knife from the dishrack and flung it towards him, making sure to aim wide so it didn’t actually hit him, and it embedded deeply into the wall in front of him.

He stopped dead in his tracks and glanced over his shoulder, a dark look in his eyes.

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