Ruthless Bratva King (New York Russian Mafia Kings #1)

24. Elena

24

ELENA

The following evening…

I tug at the hem of a dress so short it might be mistaken for a belt. The neckline plunges so deep I feel like I might accidentally flash if I sneeze. “Maybe I should change,” I say.

Veronica lounges on her bed, her head propped on one hand, watching me with a smirk. “First date, yes, but no time like the present for him to take you up Pompeii.”

“Doesn’t seem likely.”

“He said he wants to fuck you, Elena. It’s unsubtle, but a good sign, especially when you show him a dress that sexy.”

I tug the neckline up, but it stubbornly slides back down, threatening to expose far more than I’m comfortable with. “This isn’t a dress. It’s lingerie doing a bad impersonation.”

She snorts, sitting up and crossing her legs. She’s wearing a silky robe that barely covers her thighs, looking like a glam pin-up model. “It’s called confidence, Elena. You should try it sometime. That dress will make Dmitri spontaneously combust.”

“I’m not trying to kill him. I just want to look nice. This is too much!”

“Too much?” She gasps dramatically. “Oh, sweetie, you are such a nun sometimes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to join a convent instead of seducing the Bratva King.”

I shoot her a glare over my shoulder, my cheeks heating. “I am not trying to seduce him.”

“Sure, you’re not,” she drawls, getting up and sauntering over to her closet. “Then why are you here, raiding my closet? Face it, girl, you want to impress him. And you should. Men like him don’t come around every day. He’s got that ‘I could destroy your life or your pussy’ vibe that we all want.”

I groan, covering my face with my hands. “You’re impossible.”

“Nope. I’m helpful.” She starts rifling through her closet, pulling out another dress that’s somehow even smaller . “Here, try this one.’”

“Veronica, I’d like something that doesn’t get me arrested.”

“Come on, live a little!” She tosses it at me with a grin.

Reluctantly, I step into the dress and wriggle it up over my hips. The fabric stretches over my body, clinging to curves I usually try to downplay. I turn to the mirror and sigh. “Okay, it’s good. But it’s also obscene.”

She circles me, inspecting her handiwork. “Hmm. You look sexy. Maybe too sexy. This might scream ‘I’m about to make some very bad decisions.’”

“Exactly my point.”

“Okay, fine. Let’s dial it back.” She digs through her closet again and pulls out a sleek black wrap dress. “Try this. It’s classy, sexy, and you can actually breathe in it. Win-win.”

I slip it on, tying the sash at my waist. The fabric skims my body in all the right places, hinting at my shape without putting it on full display. It’s elegant and understated—exactly what I feel comfortable in.

“Much better,” I say, spinning in front of the mirror.

Veronica claps her hands together. “Perfect! Hot but not desperate. Dmitri’s going to drool.”

“Only if he’s had dental surgery today,” I mutter, smoothing the fabric nervously.

She rolls her eyes. “Let’s not forget the final touch.” She points toward a shopping bag sitting on her nightstand.

I hesitate, glancing inside the bag. “This is what you had Jacques fetch for you?”

She smirks. “Oh, yeah. Trust me, no matter how good you look in the dress, knowing you’ve got something sexy underneath will make you unstoppable.”

I eye the contents of the bag warily. A lacy black bra and matching panties stare back at me. “Where’s the underwear?” I ask. “This is just a couple of pieces of thread, isn’t it?”

“It’s perfect. You can’t wear granny panties on a date . ”

“Fine,” I mutter, grabbing the bag and heading to the bathroom. “But if I end up regretting this, I’m blaming you.”

“That’s what best friends are for!” she calls after me, laughing.

As I change into the lingerie and the dress, I can’t help but think about Dmitri’s reaction when he sees me.

Maybe Veronica’s right. Maybe it’s time to live a little.

When I step out of the bathroom, she whistles. “Damn, girl. You’re gonna make him forget how to speak.”

“What time is it?”

“Six on the dot.”

There’s a knock at the door. I freeze mid-breath, staring at the handle like it might combust.

My stomach churns with a mix of nerves and anticipation, but I square my shoulders and walk over, determined to keep my cool.

When I open the door, Dmitri stands there, larger than life. He’s wearing a tailored black suit with a crisp white shirt, no tie, and his wool overcoat draped over one arm.

His piercing gray eyes lock onto mine, and a smile tugs at the corner of his lips, softening his otherwise stern expression. In his hand is a small black velvet box.

“Evening, Elena.” His voice is low and smooth, but there’s an edge to it, like a restrained storm.

“Hi.” I step aside to let him in, trying to ignore the way my heart stumbles in my chest.

He strides past me, his presence filling the room. Veronica, lounging casually on the couch, gives him an exaggerated once-over and smirks. “Well, well. You appear to only own the one outfit.”

Dmitri barely spares her a glance, his focus fixed on me. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” My voice is softer than I’d like, but the intensity in his gaze makes my usual snark hard to muster.

“Why did you come into my room last night?” I ask.

His gaze sharpens, and for a moment, I think he won’t answer. “I couldn’t stay away,” he says simply. “I told myself I would. That it was safer to leave you be. But then I’d get your face in my head again. I’m obsessed with you, Elena.”

Veronica lets out a low whistle.

My heart pounds so hard I’m sure he can hear it. “Dmitri?—”

He takes my hand in his. His touch is warm, his grip firm but gentle.

“I’m not a good man, Elena,” he says quietly. “I had a job to do but I can’t do it. The first time ever. What do you think that means?”

The honesty in his voice leaves me breathless. I look down at our joined hands.

“I don’t know,” I say at last.

He releases me suddenly and holds out a small velvet box. “This is for you.”

I blink at it, confused. “What is it?”

“Open it and see.”

With trembling fingers, I take the box and flip it open. Inside is a simple but stunning band encrusted with diamonds.

“Dmitri...” I trail off, unsure of what to say.

“It’s a wedding ring,” he says plainly, as if that explains everything.

Veronica chokes on her laughter. “Oh, this just got good. ”

I glance at her, mortified, but Dmitri doesn’t seem the least bit perturbed by her reaction. “Did you forget we were getting married?”

“I know you told those men I was your fiancée,” I say, looking back at him. “I guessed you were doing it to get them to leave me alone.”

“I wasn’t.” His expression hardens, his jaw tightening. “I don’t joke about things like this.”

“But... why? What are you trying to do?”

He takes the box from my hands, plucks out the ring, and holds it between his fingers. “I’m trying to keep you safe, Elena. As my wife, no one will dare hurt you.”

I stare at him, stunned. “Why would they want to hurt me?”

His lips press into a thin line. “Bad people are always out there, circling around like a pack of wolves. This marriage is the only way to protect you until I deal with them.”

“And what happens then?”

He hesitates, then says, “Then it ends.”

I swallow hard, trying to process this. “You mean a temporary marriage?”

“Yes.” His voice is firm, but there’s an undercurrent of something deeper in his gaze.

Veronica clears her throat loudly. “This is the most romantic business transaction I’ve ever witnessed. You two need to get a room, like now.”

“Veronica,” I hiss, shooting her a glare.

Dmitri ignores her entirely, stepping closer to me. He’s so close now that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. “That ring will protect you better than any gun.”

My voice shakes as I say, “Why are you doing this?”

He tilts his head, studying me with an intensity that makes my pulse race. “Because you make me want things I never wanted before.”

“And what is that?”

“A life outside of my work.”

The room falls silent, his words hanging in the air like a spell.

Veronica, ever the tactful one, claps her hands together. “Well, this is officially my cue to go to bed. Congratulations, you crazy kids!”

She stands, winks at me, and saunters toward the door. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, which is basically nothing. Have fun!”

I look down at the ring in Dmitri’s hand, then back up at him. “You’re really serious about this.”

“I’ve never been more serious about anything,” he murmurs. He closes the remaining distance between us, lifting a hand to cup my cheek.

His touch is warm, firm yet gentle, and his thumb brushes along my jawline, sending sparks skittering down my spine.

His lips crash into mine with a raw, unrestrained passion that steals the air from my lungs. It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s fire and hunger and desperation.

His hand slides to the back of my neck, holding me in place as he deepens the kiss.

I grip his shoulders, my fingers curling into the soft fabric of his suit jacket, as if I might fall.

The taste of him is intoxicating—dark and dangerous, like everything about him.

He kisses like a man starved, each movement of his lips and tongue claiming me in a way that leaves no room for doubt: I belong to him now.

But just as the kiss threatens to consume us both, he pulls back, his breathing ragged, his forehead resting against mine.

He reaches into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. “This is the marriage contract,” he says, holding it out to me.

I take it with shaking hands, my eyes flicking over the dense lines of legal text.

“It’s simple,” he continues. “It makes our marriage official. No need for a ceremony or any of that bullshit. You’ll have my name, my protection, my resources. When this is over, we’ll part ways. But until then…” He trails off, his gaze heavy with meaning.

I look up at him, my fingers tightening around the paper. “And if I don’t sign it?”

“Then nothing changes. I’ll still protect you. But it’ll be far more dangerous.”

The weight of his words settles over me. I can’t let him get hurt trying to keep me safe.

This is insane. Am I really agreeing to this?

I unfold the paper, pick up the pen he offers, and without a moment’s hesitation, scrawl my name at the bottom.

When I look up, he’s watching me with an intensity that makes my breath hitch. He takes my hand, sliding the cool platinum of the ring onto my finger.

“You’re mine now,” he says, his voice low and possessive.

“Yours,” I echo softly, the word feeling strangely right on my tongue.