Accidental Bratva Daddy (Bratva Blessings)

Chapter 8Natalia

8

Natalia

T he elevator chimes softly as we reach the top floor of the boutique hotel in the heart of Moscow. Luka's hand rests on the small of my back, a gesture that should be comforting but instead sends shivers up my spine. I'm hyper-aware of his presence, the heat of his body so close to mine, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the lingering fragrance of wedding flowers.

As the doors slide open, revealing a plush hallway decorated in shades of cream and gold, reality comes crashing down on me once again. This is my honeymoon. With a man I'm supposed to hate. A man who, despite everything, still makes my heart race with a single touch.

I’ve sacrificed the rest of my life for him. All the men who I could’ve met, fallen in love with, and lived my happily ever after with have been shut out. They’ll go on to find other women, better ones who aren’t mixed up with organized crime, and I’ll be left with Luka.

Now, I must wake up in the morning and hear his grumbling voice. The sun won’t shine without his black shadow cascading over me, asking about how my day was. And that’s only if he pretends to care.

Luka guides me down the hall, his stride confident and purposeful. I feel like a deer caught in headlights, my feet moving of their own accord. We stop in front of a set of ornate double doors, and Luka produces a key card with a flourish.

"Ready to see our love nest, Mrs. Volkova?” he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

I scowl at him, hating how easily he seems to be taking this whole charade. "Just open the door, Luka."

He chuckles, the sound low and rich, sending an involuntary shiver through me. The door swings open, revealing a suite that takes my breath away despite my best efforts to remain unimpressed.

The room is massive, easily twice the size of my old apartment. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a stunning view of the Moscow skyline, the city lights twinkling like stars against the darkening sky. A massive king-sized bed dominates one side of the room, piled high with pillows and draped in luxurious linens.

But what catches my eye is the distinct lack of a second sleeping area.

"You can't be serious," I say, whirling to face Luka. "Where's your room?"

Luka raises an eyebrow, that infuriating smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "This is my room, darling. Our room, to be precise."

I feel the heat rising to my cheeks, a mixture of anger and something else I don't want to examine too closely. "You expect us to share? After everything that's happened? How do I know you’re not going to kill me in my sleep?"

Luka shrugs, stepping further into the room and loosening his bow tie. The casual movement draws my attention to the strong column of his throat, and I have to force myself to look away.

"We need to make this as believable as possible," he says, his tone maddeningly reasonable. "What kind of newlyweds would we be if we slept in separate rooms?"

I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off with a wave of his hand. "Relax, Natalia. I'll take the couch if it means my blushing bride can sleep in comfort."

The teasing lilt in his voice when he says "blushing bride" makes me want to scream. Instead, I settle for an eye roll that would make any teenager proud. "How chivalrous of you," I mutter, stomping further into the room.

I head straight for the windows, needing to put some distance between us. The view really is spectacular, the lights of the city stretching out as far as the eye can see. For a moment, I let myself get lost in it, trying to forget the surreal situation I've found myself in.

Behind me, I hear Luka moving about the room, the soft rustle of fabric as he removes his jacket. I catch a glimpse of his reflection in the window—the broad expanse of his shoulders, the way his shirt clings to his muscular frame. My traitorous body responds, a flicker of heat igniting low in my belly.

I close my eyes, trying to regain control. This is ridiculous. I shouldn't be attracted to him. He's dangerous, a killer, the man responsible for turning my life upside down. But my body doesn't seem to care about those facts, responding to his proximity like a flower turning towards the sun.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Luka's voice, closer now, startles me out of my reverie. I turn to find him watching me, his expression unreadable. He's rolled up his sleeves, exposing strong forearms dusted with dark hair. It's an oddly intimate sight, and I have to swallow hard before I can speak.

"I was just thinking about how surreal this all is," I say, gesturing vaguely at the opulent room. "A week ago, I was just a fashion designer with a normal life. And now..."

"Now you're married to the most dangerous man in Moscow?" Luka supplies, a hint of dark humor in his voice.

I snort, some of the tension easing from my shoulders. "Something like that, yes."

Luka takes a step closer, and I instinctively back up, my legs hitting the window seat behind me. He pauses, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Natalia," he says softly. "I thought I'd made that clear by now."

"You'll forgive me if I have trouble trusting the word of a man who kidnapped me and killed my father," I retort, but there's less venom in my voice than I'd like.

Luka winces, genuine regret flashing across his face. "I know I have a lot to make up for," he says. "But I meant what I said in my vows. I will protect you, Natalia. You and your family."

I want to scoff, to remind him that he's the reason my family needs protection in the first place. But the sincerity in his eyes gives me pause. Despite everything, I find myself wanting to believe him.

"I don't know how to do this, Luka," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "How am I supposed to pretend to be in love with you when I can barely sort out how I feel?"

Luka takes another step closer, and this time I don't back away. He reaches out, his fingers grazing my cheek so lightly I almost think I imagined it. "Who says we have to pretend?"

The words hang in the air between us, loaded with possibility. I should step back, put some distance between us. But my body seems to have other ideas. Instead, I find myself leaning into his touch, my eyes fluttering closed for just a moment.

When I open them again, Luka is even closer, his face mere inches from mine. I can see the flecks of gold in his blue eyes, the faint stubble along his jaw. Without conscious thought, my gaze drops to his lips.

"Natalia," he murmurs, and the way he says my name sends a shiver down my spine. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

My mind races, weighing the pros and cons of giving in to this attraction. On one hand, it's dangerous, complicated, potentially disastrous. On the other... the memory of our night together in the hotel flashes through my mind, sending a jolt of heat through my body.

"I..." I start, then falter. Do I want him to stop? Or do I want to lose myself in him, consequences be damned?

Luka's thumb traces my lower lip, the touch feather-light but electrifying. "Just say the word," he says, his voice low and husky. "I'll back off, sleep on the couch. We can keep things strictly professional."

The thought of him pulling away, of losing this connection, tenuous as it may be, makes my chest ache in a way I'm not prepared for. Before I can overthink it, I reach up, balling my fist into the fabric of his shirt.

"And if I don't want you to stop?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Luka's eyes darken, a voracious gleam entering them. "Then tell me what you do want, Natalia."

I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. This is probably a mistake, one that will only complicate things further. But in this moment, with Luka looking at me like I'm the only woman in the world, I can't bring myself to care.

"I want you to convince me," I say, lifting my chin in challenge. "If you want me to sell this marriage, then prove to me it's worth selling."

For a moment, Luka doesn't move. He searches my face, looking for any sign of hesitation or doubt. Finding none, he smiles—a slow, dangerous smile that makes my knees weak.

"As you wish, Mrs. Volkov," he says, and then his lips are on mine.

The kiss starts slow, almost tentative. But it quickly builds into something more, months of pent-up tension and denied attraction exploding between us. I melt into him, my arms winding around his neck as he pulls me flush against his body.

As Luka deepens the kiss, his tongue teasing the seam of my lips, a small voice in the back of my mind warns me that this is dangerous territory. That once we cross this line, there's no going back.

But with Luka's hands roaming my body, his lips igniting fires everywhere they touch, I find I don't want to go back. For better or worse, this is my reality now. And I intend to make the most of it.

Luka's hands slide down to my hips, gripping tightly as he lifts me onto the window seat. I gasp at the sudden movement, breaking our kiss. For a moment, we stare at each other, both breathing heavily. The city lights twinkle behind me, casting a soft glow over Luka's face. The desire in his eyes is unmistakable, but there's something else there too, a vulnerability I've never seen before.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks, his voice rough with want but tinged with concern.

The question surprises me. It's so at odds with the ruthless man I thought I knew. I take a moment to really look at him, to see beyond the dangerous exterior to the man underneath. What I see makes my heart race for reasons that have nothing to do with physical attraction.

"I'm sure," I whisper, pulling him back to me.

This time when our lips meet, it's different. There's still passion, still that undeniable heat between us, but there's a tenderness too. Luka kisses me like I'm something precious, something to be savored. His hands roam my body with reverence, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

I fumble with the buttons of his shirt, suddenly desperate to feel his skin against mine. Luka chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against my lips. He pulls back just enough to help me, shrugging off the garment to reveal a torso that's all hard muscle and intricate tattoos.

My fingers trace the inked patterns, marveling at the stories they tell. Luka's breath hitches as I explore, his muscles tensing under my touch. When I reach a particularly sensitive spot, he groans, the sound sending a jolt of heat straight to my core.

"Your turn," Luka murmurs, his hands finding the zipper of my dress.

I nod, lifting my hips to allow him to slide the fabric down my body. The cool air hits my skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. But any chill is quickly chased away by the heat of Luka's gaze as he drinks in the sight of me.

"Beautiful," he breathes, and the raw honesty in his voice makes me blush.

His hands and lips seem to be everywhere at once, leaving no inch of skin unexplored. When his mouth closes over my breast, I arch into him with a gasp. My fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to me as waves of pleasure wash over me.

Luka lavishes attention on my body, drawing sounds from me I didn't know I was capable of making. By the time his hand slips between my thighs, I'm trembling with need.

"Please," I whimper, beyond caring about pride or pretense.

Luka looks up at me, his eyes dark with desire. "Tell me what you want, Natalia," he says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down my spine.

"You," I gasp as his fingers tease my most sensitive spots. "I want you, Luka."

A satisfied smile spreads across his face. In one fluid motion, he stands, lifting me with him. I wrap my legs around his waist instinctively, marveling at the strength in his arms as he carries me to the bed.

He lays me down gently, taking a moment to shed the rest of his clothes before joining me. The sight of him, all lean muscle and barely contained power, aroused for me and no one else, takes my breath away. This man, dangerous and unpredictable as he may be, wants me. And God help me, but I want him too.

Luka covers my body with his, the weight of him pressing me into the mattress in the most delicious way. He captures my lips in another searing kiss as he positions his cock at my entrance.

"Last chance to back out," he murmurs against my mouth.

“Shut the fuck up,” I grumble, rolling my hips and taking him inside me.

We both groan at the sensation, the feeling of fullness almost overwhelming. For a moment, neither of us moves, savoring the connection.

Then Luka starts to move, setting a rhythm that has me seeing stars. Every thrust sends sparks of pleasure shooting through me. I meet him movement for movement, pressing my heels against his muscular back, our bodies falling into a dance as old as time.

As the tension builds, I can feel myself getting close to the edge. Luka must sense it too, because he increases his pace, driving into me with an intensity that steals my breath away.

"Come for me, Natalia," he growls, his voice rough with exertion. "Let go. I've got you."

His words, combined with a particularly well-angled thrust, send me over the edge. I cry out, my body squirming as waves of pleasure crash over me, clenching around his cock.

Colors dance beneath my eyelids as I squeeze them shut, bursting across my vision in a pulsating symphony of pleasure. Reality falls away and is replaced by a heaven so sweet that I want to die to stay there forever.

Luka follows soon after me, his release triggering aftershocks that leave me trembling. He empties everything inside of me. I can feel him throbbing as he climaxes, his body stiff and his muscles flexed like he’s putting his soul into it.

Luka's weight on top of me is comforting rather than stifling, and I find myself not wanting him to move after he finishes. He softens inside me slowly, the damp warmth between my thighs strangely comforting.

Eventually, though, he rolls to the side, pulling me with him so that I'm draped across his chest. His hand traces lazy patterns on my back as we both come down from our high.

"Well," I say once I've caught my breath, "I'd say that was a pretty convincing argument for this marriage."

Luka chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Glad I could be persuasive," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

We lapse into silence, but it's not uncomfortable. For the first time since this whole ordeal began, I feel... safe. Content, even. It's a dangerous feeling, I know. Luka is still who he is, and our situation hasn't changed. But in this moment, wrapped in his arms, I can't bring myself to care.

"What are you thinking?" Luka asks softly, his fingers combing through my hair.

I prop myself up on an elbow, looking down at him. In the soft light of the room, with his hair mussed and his guard down, he looks younger. More vulnerable. It makes my heart ache in a way I'm not prepared for.

"I'm thinking that this complicates things," I admit. “You’re a dangerous man who leads a dangerous life.”

"I meant what I said in my vows, Natalia," he says, his voice low and intense. "I will protect you. I will provide for you. And if you'll let me, I'll spend every day trying to be worthy of being your husband.”

The sincerity in his voice surprises me. This isn't how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to hate him, to resist this arranged marriage with every fiber of my being. And the truth is that I do, but there’s more too, something deeper.

"Promise me something," I say softly.

"Anything," Luka replies without hesitation.

"Promise me you'll always be honest with me. No more secrets, no more lies. If we're going to make this arrangement work, we need to trust each other completely."

Luka is quiet for a long moment, and I fear I've asked for too much. But then he nods, a solemn expression on his face. "I promise," he says. “Whatever I can tell you, whatever is within my control, I will. The good, the bad, and the ugly."

Relief washes over me, followed quickly by a wave of exhaustion. The emotional rollercoaster of the day, combined with our recent activities, has left me drained.

Luka seems to sense my fatigue. He lays us both down, pulling the plush comforter over our naked bodies. I curl into his side, my head resting on his chest. The steady thump of his heartbeat is soothing, lulling me towards sleep.

As I drift off, I can't help but marvel at the turn my life has taken. A week ago, I was just Natalia Orlova, fashion designer. Now, I'm Natalia Volkova, wife of the most dangerous man in Moscow. It's not the life I ever imagined for myself, but it’s mine, whether I want it to be or not.