Page 19 of Brutal Bratva’s Owned Hostage

She looked up at me, surprised, like she hadn’t expected that admission from me. If I was being honest, the admission surprised me, too. It was arguably the first time in my adult life I’d admitted to such.

“You don’t seem like someone who’s scared of anything.”

“I’ve gotten good at not showing it. But it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.” I reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture quieter and more deliberate than anything I’d done with a woman in longer than I could remember.

She studied me for a moment, the city lights catching in her eyes, and something in her expression softened.

Then she pulled the suit jacket closer around her body with a sigh that seemed to move through every nerve of mine.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I’m not used to people observing small things like that about me.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m not particularly good at soft.”

“You’re better at it than you think.”

We stood there a while longer in silence, the noise of the party fading behind us. The truth we’d exchanged didn’t push us apart; it pulled us closer.

Chapter Nine

Valentina

I woke up with the kind of confusion that takes a few minutes to clear. The room around me wasn’t the same one I’d fallen asleep in for over a week, but it gave me the same view of the Strip through the same wall of glass, the same soft gray morning light spilling across the same hardwood floors.

Dmitri’s bedroom.

After our private moment on the balcony, he’d simply led me into the room and asked me to sleep. Then he disappeared. I had heard him come in several hours later, but I was too sleepy to talk or even move.

But I’d be lying if I said I woke up disoriented or feeling different because I was in Dmitri’s room.

I lay there a moment, letting the thought settle before I let myself get up. Married. The word landed heavy, like I was trying on a coat that fit but still felt like it belonged to someone else.

That’s it.

I’m married now.

I’m Valentina Golovin now, or is it Golovina?

Cruz has become my former name.

Dmitri was already up by the time I made it out of the bedroom, standing at the kitchen island in dark trousers and an open shirt, scrolling through something on his phone with the restless energy he always exuded. He looked up when he heard me, and I noticed his guarded expression became softer. I swallowed as I approached the kitchen, trying to avoid thinking of why the sight of me got such a reaction from him.

Neither of us said anything for a few seconds.

I’d told myself to prepare for awkwardness. For some kind of stiffness between us now that we’d made this official the night before. I was yet to see anything of the sort.

He just gestured toward the plate of fruit and toast that someone had left on the counter, like nothing had shifted between us at all. It was so normal that I found myself feeling confused again.

“Sleep okay?” he asked, pulling out the stool beside him. Then his smirk slowly appeared as he playfully added, “Although I think I already know the answer, given how you rolled around, sending your hair in all directions.”

“It was… a different bed,” I defended, subconsciously running my hand through my loose hair. “My body was… exploring the area for threats.”

“Hm,” he muttered, nodding.

“I slept okay, though. Surprisingly. Given everything.” I sat, reaching for a piece of toast. “It’s strange, waking up in the same house I’ve been sleeping in for over a week and suddenly being your wife instead of just your… whatever I was before.”

“House guest with excellent poker skills.”

“That’s generous. I lost most of our hands.”