Page 109 of The Bratva Betrayal

“And you think that’s going to work?” I pose. “You just walk in, and he’ll listen?”

“Yep.”

My eyes narrow. “You don’t know my father.”

“I know him well enough.”

Right.

“So… what does that make us?” I say carefully.

Something shifts in his expression. “What do you mean?”

“You told my father your name sits behind mine. That anyone who knows will know.” I hold his gaze. “What does that mean for us, specifically? You and me.”

He just blinks at me.

“Are we… dating?” I say flatly.

“I don’t date.”

“I know you don’t date. I looked into you, remember? You don’t date, you don’t bring women home, you don’t do any of the things normal people do.” I cross my arms. “And yet, here you are in my dressing room, trying to take off my dress and telling my father your name covers mine. So, I’m asking you what we’re calling it?”

“Does it need a name?”

“Normal people prefer that.”

Something moves at the corner of his mouth. “You are not normal people.”

“Neither are you.”

I see the wheels turning before he suddenly pushes off the wall.

“If the word makes you more comfortable, then fine,” he says.

“You’re going to need to be more specific than ‘fine.’”

“We’re dating.” His eyes drop to my zipper. “Now, take off the dress.”

He catches my wrist when I move to push his hand away, turning me gently so that my back is to him, and I can feel him close behind me as his fingers find the zipper again and slide it down slowly.

“Artem—“

“You have your word,” he says quietly, close to my ear, the zipper moving down another inch. “I have the dress.”

“That’s not⁠—“

“Lisichka.”

“One year,” I tell him. “Tops. Then we break up.”

“You’re not breaking up with me.” The dress loosens around me, the lace at my shoulders shifts forward, and his hands slide up to ease it off. I have every opportunity to stop him, but I’m too caught up in his words. “I’m your protection.”

“Two,” I retort. “Then we’re free of each other⁠—”

“No.” The dress falls, and he turns me around. I’m naked underneath, but he doesn’t bother to give me an appreciative glance. He just looks straight into my eyes when he adds, “You’re mine until one of us dies. And I don’t plan on doing that for a long time.”

And then he slams his lips against mine.