Page 51 of The Bratva Betrayal

“No.”

“You like it?”

“Fuck off,” I ground out. “I’m not your friend or your stylist.”

That earns me a cheeky little smile from her fuckable lips. “C’mon, now. You wanted to come shopping with me.”

“I didn’t know that required my approval of everything you picked out.”

“Shouldn’t have come, then. I told you that many times.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m working.”

Her face twists a little in confusion. “On what? Planning how you’re going to strangle me with a hanger?”

“Good one. That’s not bad.”

“We’re almost done, and then we’re heading to lunch.”

“Great.”

“You like salad, right?”

“That’s a fucking crime.”

Her mouth twitches like she’s trying not to laugh at me, and for some reason, that makes me want to hear it even more.

“You don’t eat salad?”

“I eat food.”

“That is food.”

“It’s decorative leaves.”

She lets out a soft snort before turning back toward the mirror again, adjusting one of the bikini straps while I try very hard not to focus on the line of skin along her shoulder.

“God.” She catches my expression in the reflection. “You really are miserable all the time.”

“I’m selectively pleasant.”

“And who qualifies for that?”

“Not you.”

“Mm.” Her blue eyes flick toward me through the mirror again. “Yet here you are. Following me through a department store while I try on bikinis for another man.”

There’s something deliberate in the way she says another man.

She’s testing me, and she will not win.

I pull my eyes away from her legs before I do something stupid. “You’re taking this vacation seriously.”

“Ava said I needed something fun.”

“That woman’s definition of fun concerns me.”

“She’s normal.”