Page 36 of The Bratva's Innocent Forbidden Bride
She turned, looking like she’d been slapped, and ready to attack. “Stop treating me like one, with massages and manicures and personal shoppers.” All the fire went out of her at once, like she’d been popped with a pin. “I’m not useless,” she said, her eyes dropping.
“Damn it, Tati.” I loosened my grip on her arm, but didn’t let go. “I never said you were.”
“You act like it.”
“How’s that? Because I don’t want to have to mop up your blood or shut your eyes after you’ve been shot in the head?”
She shuddered and swallowed hard, looking at me as if wondering if I’d done those things before. I bloody well had, and it sucked even when it was someone I didn’t care about. If it were Tati… I wouldn’t make it through something like that.
“Listen. If you really think you recognized one of the shooters, that will be a big help.” I gently led her back toward my room, and she didn’t resist.
“I did. I know I did. So, what do we do now?”
How could I not smile at her impatient tone? “Right now we wait,” I said.
The hopeful shine in her eyes was dulled at once, and her brows flew together. “Wait? That’s it?”
“I’ve already got a team hunting for everyone involved,” I assured her, though she didn’t look assured. “It’s all we can do, so get used to it.”
She got back into my bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, staring at the ceiling, not sure how to fight me, but definitely wanting to. It was clear she was terrified that every minute that passed meant Grigor might be closer to death, and that was probably true. But I wasn’t concerned about Grigor at the moment; I was worried about her.
Even if she was part of her father’s betrayal?
I looked at her for a long time before climbing in beside her, fluffing my pillow a little too aggressively. She was wrapped up like a mummy, lying stiffly, still staring blankly at the ceiling. Turning on my side, I kept my eyes on her until she had to turn to look at me.
“What?” she asked. “You can’t order me to sleep.”
“Who says I want you to sleep?” I asked with a grin, making her blush. “But I do want you to relax and have some fun while we wait for answers.”
She snorted, but moved closer. “Not much fun being stuck in this apartment.”
I reached for her, removing the distance between us. “I wouldn’t bet on that.”
Chapter 22 - Tatiana
I turned on the shower in Kon’s bathroom, glad he was already gone when I woke up. Did I completely lose my mind? As I stepped under the steaming waterfall, the water sluiced down my body, making me remember his kisses and touches so that I had to turn the temperature down a notch.
Never, ever, would I have imagined my first time would be with someone like Kon, or Kon himself, or under such crazy circumstances. I must have lost my mind. Still, I couldn’t regret it. How could I, when it was so fantastic?
In fact, it was very close to perfect.
For those moments in his arms, I forgot everything but unbridled, unadulterated passion. Like I was the most important thing in the universe to him, like he would disappear if he couldn’t get his hands on me. That was intoxicating, and quite frankly, I could use more of it.
As soon as I turned the warm, soothing water off, I was hit with a cold gust of guilt. How could I lose myself in those kinds of feelings when my father could be suffering? Might be dead?
But all wasn’t lost, and I braced myself against sliding into despair as I wrapped up in Kon’s bathrobe, smelling of his crisp cologne. He seemed to think he could track down the shooters and identify how and why one was involved with Papa might be the first step toward saving him. Then we could get to the truth, and Kon could stop being so bitter against him.
I huffed as I headed out to find myself some breakfast, preparing for a long, lonely day by myself. Why should Kon’s feelings about my father matter at all? After the way he was so quick to believe the worst about him, Papa would be within his rights to completely cut him off after he was found.
He just had to be found.
I stopped short as I entered the kitchen, surprised to see a lavish buffet spread set up on the marble counter. Trays of fresh fruit, several bottles of champagne, and a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice, along with hot plates full of French toast and blinis. A small butter sculpture in the shape of a rearing horse stood between a selection of syrups, and the savory scent of bacon filled my nostrils as Kon raised one of the hot plate lids.
He smiled at me as he filled his plate with a mountain of crispy slices. “I wasn’t messing around when I promised you’d have a good time here in the apartment,” he said.
Heat flooded my cheeks because I thought he meant the amazing time he showed me in his bed last night. This was okay, too. He mixed me a mimosa in a crystal glass and held it out to me, urging me to dig in; there was more in store.
“I don’t know if I should be scared or excited,” I said, but after the workout last night, I was starving.
