Stealing The Bratva Bride Read Online Flora Ferrari

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 53693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
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It scares me. I’ve never been so desperate for someone. I wasn’t allowed to be. But the man next to me is, objectively, the most attractive man I’ve met in my life. And he chose to run away with me for some strange reason. Despite my size and the way my ass fits into this dress.He chose to rescue me, in his convoluted way. The irrational parts of me that aren’t furious with him are desperate for him. My body wants to show him exactly how grateful I am.

It's best that I say nothing. If I freeze him out long enough, he’ll eventually get the hint. I don’t know how long I’ll reasonably be able to keep that up, though. Not when every cell in my body is screaming at me to touch him.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ivan

She hasn’t spoken since we got into the limousine, but I can’t stop staring at her. She’s an exquisite creature, a firecracker ready to go off at any time. I have a hard time believing she willingly walked into that church in the first place. She doesn’t strike me as the type of woman who does anything she doesn’t choose to do, yet she was so clearly not looking forward to marriage.

Then again, there’s a lot I don’t know about her. I think back to the way she cowered behind me when her father tried to strike her. For as long as I live, I won’t get the image out of my head. She doesn’t deserve a life like that. She’s too bright to be hidden under the covering of a father who’s willing to marry her off to a boy she doesn’t love.

Dimitri is a weak excuse of a man. The thought of him makes me want to spit. He was given the gift of this beautiful woman as his daughter, and he can’t appreciate her for who she is. Idiot. I want to give her everything and allow her the space to be whoever she wants to be. That is, if she ever speaks to me again.

Even if she ices me out forever, I want to show her that I mean no harm. I want her to experience the life she deserves. She shouldn’t be forced into anything she doesn’t choose. Then again, I did essentially kidnap her and ruin her relationship with her family. Not my best move.

I watch her in fascination as we pull up to my penthouse on the upper east side. My driver parks the car at the curb, and she simply stares out the window, taking in the building’s size. I know Dimitri is no slouch, but there’s nothing like this in Brooklyn. I can’t help but wonder what kind of life she’s lived up to this point.

I get out of the car, running to her side to open the door for her. I hold out my hand for her to take, but she pointedly ignores it, instead maneuvering herself out of the car by herself with some difficulty. I notice she hasn’t put her shoes back on. She doesn’t even grab them, instead leaving them on the floor of the limousine and walking up to the building barefoot.

She clutches the leather bag and robe her mother pushed into her hand as if they’re sacred. I feel a pang as I remember the way her mother cursed at her. I wonder what their relationship was like before I showed up. It’s hard to imagine what she had to deal with for her entire life.

My mother died when I was very young, but what I remember of her is warmth. She loved me unconditionally, to the point that I still feel that love decades later. Katrina deserves the same kind of love, if she’s willing to accept it.

My doorman eyes us curiously, but he knows better than to comment on the state of the runaway bride. I’ll make sure he gets a good bonus in his next paycheck for his silence. Of course, I look down to see she is shooting him her own murderous look, daring him to say anything to her. Instead, he looks straight ahead and murmurs for us to have a nice day. Good man.

We head through the lobby, straight to the elevator. I swipe my keycard and the elevator shoots up, taking us to the top floor. The penthouse suite. The doors open into my apartment, and she can’t help the gasp of surprise that escapes from her lips. I smile to myself, not daring to let her see my satisfaction at her reaction, though it reminds me of the many gasps she let loose during our earlier interaction.

We’re forties stories up, overlooking Central Park. It’s a stunning building, a newer build, but no less opulent than the historic buildings surrounding it. The apartment is outfitted with modern décor, courtesy of my private interior decorator. I spent a lot of money having this place decorated, not that I’m here often. It was important to me that I had a home that felt comfortable, but also modern.



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