Page 11 of The Bratva Enforcer and His Virgin Bride

It’s one of the old books my papa and I pored over together. I have a copy, but it’s part of the stash I left in Moscow before I fled. Oh, I have to read this again.

“And when I said you commune with your books earlier, you said that’s not a thing. It is definitely a thing,” Ashley says, appearing beside me again with a pointed look.

I finally glance at her.

She gestures at me like she’s building a case.

“Before you pick a book, you touch it like you’re checking its pulse. You read a few lines. You go quiet. Sometimes you even—” she narrows her eyes slightly, “—murmur things under your breath.”

I blink. “I don’t murmur.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

Ashley exhales dramatically. “It’s almost spiritual. If I didn’t know you, I’d think you were into some voodoo or juju things.”

That finally pulls a laugh out of me.

It slips out before I can stop it.

I close the book gently.

“Fine,” I say, tucking it under my arm. “Let’s go.”

Ashley grins. “Finally.”

I fall into step beside her as she heads toward the counter to log in her books. The staff already know us by name. Sharon stopped treating us like ordinary customers a long time ago.

Mostly because we practically live here.

They trust us enough now that sometimes they don’t even bother logging the books properly if we’re in a hurry. We always return them.

“Another stack?” the cashier asks when we approach.

Ashley places her books down dramatically. “Please don’t judge me.”

“I’m absolutely judging you,” he replies without looking up.

I slide my own book onto the counter.

The cashier glances at the title and raises a brow slightly. “This old thing?”

“Don’t even ask,” Ashley sighs.

The transaction finishes quickly, and a few minutes later, we step out of the bookstore, carrying paper bags filled with books.

Cold evening air brushes against my face.

The city is alive around us.

Cars. Music somewhere in the distance. People talking too loudly as they pass by.

Ashley inhales deeply, like she’s personally responsible for New York’s existence.

Then she throws both arms into the air.

“Whooo!” she yells. “It’s about to be an interesting night!”