Page 65 of The Bratva Enforcer and His Virgin Bride

What was I doing standing there like that?

Talking to him like he was… normal.

Like he wasn’t Lukyan Rusnak. The man who coerced me into marrying him.

I groan into the blanket.

No.

I don’t care.

I absolutely don’t care.

Except my body clearly didn’t get the memo.

My face feels warm just thinking about it, and I roll onto my side with a frustrated huff.

Was I about to kiss him?

The thought hits so fast I actually freeze.

No.

No, I wasn’t.

I mean—

I would never.

Except there had been a moment. That small, quiet stretch where neither of us moved back fast enough. Where the air felt different. Closer than it should have been.

And if he had leaned in—

I squeeze my eyes shut.

Stop.

Absolutely not.

I drag the pillow over my head again like that will help.

A vibration breaks through the chaos.

My phone.

I reach out blindly, grab it from the nightstand, and squint at the screen.

Ashley.

It’s almost midnight.

Her text is a full-blown paragraph of excitement about some new romance novel hero she has apparently decided is “the love of her life” this week.

I stare at it for a second, then let out a quiet laugh despite myself.

Of course she’s in love with a fictional man again.

Ashley never met a fictional man she didn’t want to marry and emotionally ruin her life over.