I lift an eyebrow and take another sip of vodka.
“Fine, princess, tell me. What makes me so unfit as a husband?”
She narrows her eyes. “You went to a prostitute on our wedding night!”
I was half-forgetting that Natalia was a Bratva woman, until I see that jealous fire flickering in her green eyes as she accuses me of cheating.
As if it counts ascheatingwhen your marriage is a business deal.
I don’t think she appreciates the shrug that I give in response.
I didn’t even fuck the prostitute — Callie or whatever her name was — but the way that fire flickers in Natalia’s eyes when she’s annoyed with me does something to my dick. Winding her up is becoming one of my favorite pastimes.
“We need to talk about this.” Her voice is quiet and serious, like she wants to give me an opportunity to apologize.
Not going to happen.
I rest my hands behind my head. “I’m starting to think you want the details, princess.”
Even though I never ended up fucking the girl at the club, it’s for the best if she thinks I did.
Natalia’s eyes flick to me in outrage. “So you admit it. You went to a prostitute on our wedding night.”
There it is again, that searing look.
I meet her gaze evenly and pull her closer, so she’s standing between my legs.Desire licks at me, the sultry fire in Natalia’s eyes making it even worse.If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was jealous.
“And you went to bed early. Nine p.m., if I remember correctly.”
I definitely do.
Because I lingered outside the door to her room for far too long, considering the hysterics of her family. Considering how clear it was that she wouldn’t even entertain the idea that we would have a proper wedding night.
Her mother made her swear on her babushka’s grave that she’d never touch me, for fuck’s sake.
“And was it worth it?”The soft whisper of Natalia’s voice sounds like she’s actuallyhurt.
I can’t understand why, weeks after an unsuccessful one-night stand with a high-class but average-looking prostitute with fake tits, I’m being interrogated.
“It was fine.”
Entirely unremarkable. Unlike this conversation.
I take a sip of my vodka and tilt my head to the side.
“I don’t know why it would bother you. You don’t like me. You don’t want to touch me.”
I reach for Natalia’s delicate, perfectly manicured hand to prove my point. As I knew she would, she folds her arms across her waist to avoid me.
Her nails are a pretty pink with silver tips today, matching her strappy pink top and heels. The diamonds on her choker probably destroyed civilizations, yet I have to appreciate the result.
I thought a wife who hated me would be an inconvenient price to pay for the status I wanted in the Bratva. It didn’t even cross my mind that I’d want her.
“You’re my husband. You can’t go around sleeping with other women.”
“One thing about me, princess, is that I don’t like being told what to do.”
Natalia’s glossy lips press together in a line as she glares at me.
