Page 12 of The Bratva Enforcer and His Virgin Bride

Several people turn to stare.

My soul nearly leaves my body.

Ashley smiles at them like attention is sunlight and she was born to stand in it.

“Ash,” I hiss, grabbing her arm and yanking it back down. “Please.”

She rolls her eyes. “What?” she says unapologetically. “I’m excited.”

“You’re embarrassing me.”

Ashley groans. “These people will forget our faces before they even get home. No need to be so shy.”

Before I can respond, she breaks into an absolutely ridiculous dance in the middle of the pavement.

Normally, it would be funny.

If we were alone.

But we are very much not alone.

People slow down to stare. A few laugh openly. Someone even pulls out their phone.

Mortification washes through me.

“Ashley,” I hiss.

She only dances harder.

“Oh my God,” I mutter, already trying to escape the situation.

I step away from her too quickly without looking properly.

My foot leaves the pavement.

And suddenly—

Headlights.

A horn blares.

Tires screech violently against wet asphalt.

Everything happens at once.

The car stops barely inches away from me.

My breath disappears.

The paper bag slips from my fingers.

Books scatter everywhere across the wet road with awful slapping sounds, pages soaking from the rainwater still pooled against the curb.

For a second, I can only stare.

No.

No, no, no.