Page 36 of Forced & Owned By the Bratva Boss

Igor’s in front of the stove, stirring something in a pan.

My heart stops beating. Heat creeps up my neck and settles on my cheeks. I can’t tell if it’s the sight of Igor looking so domestic or how hot he is in those black sweatpants and tank top that has me hyperventilating.

His biceps flex with each movement, and I imagine him wrapping his arms around me.

The man’s so fucking sexy that I completely forget the throbbing in my arm and how completely dry my throat is.

Fucking God, no one should ever look this good.

He turns around suddenly and his eyes meet mine.

I quickly look away, pretending I wasn’t ogling him and imagining all the ways I could grab his ass while he fucks me.

Damn you, Audrey. You shouldn’t want to fuck him.

But I do. A girl can have fantasies, can’t she?

“Good morning, baby.” His eyes move to the bandage on my arm. I didn’t notice I’d bled through it until now, but he doesn’t look disgusted. “How are you feeling?”

“Refreshed,” I answer sarcastically, making my way to the fridge.

He shakes his head. “Can you be serious for once? I was so fucking worried about you all night.”

I want to shoot back another sarcastic reply, but the concern in his voice makes me completely unable to think of one.

Was he really worried all night?

No way. The Igor Nazarov I know isn’t capable of worrying or showing concern for anyone or anything that’s not directly tied to his business.

Ignoring his question, I take a bottle of water from the fridge and down the whole thing in one long gulp, groaning with satisfaction when I’m certain it’s empty. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

He turns to stir the veggies in the pan, then returns his attention to me. “It’s not something I do very often.”

“Is that so?” I throw the empty plastic bottle in the trashcan before walking to the island. “What’s special about today?”

He shrugs. “You got hurt because of me, so I wanted to do something for you.”

My brow arches in disbelief. “So you’re cooking for me out of guilt?”

“Partly.”

“Okay, and…what’s the other reason?”

His throat bobs, the hardness in his eyes softening for a moment. “Yesterday, you asked if I could give you my heart, and—”

“I know what your answer was.” I’d asked that question to manipulate him, but when he told me straight to my face that I could ask for anything other than that, it felt like it’d been stabbed in the chest. It stung so much that I don’t even want to think about it. “It’s fine.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “I can promise to keep you safe, Audrey. I’d die to protect you. If it’s money you want, or anything else, I’ll give it.”

A bitter smile plays on my lips. “But your heart is where you draw the line?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he just stares into my eyes with a sad look that says he would give me more if he could. I understand it perfectly, and even though a voice inside of me is screaming with sadness from his rejection, I don’t let it show.

“What are you making?”

He turns off the stove, grabs two plates from the cabinet, and fills them with food. “Breakfast. You lost so much blood yesterday, so I thought you’d need something balanced to help you regain some strength.”

He walks the food to the island, setting it in front of me.