Page 20 of Brutal Bratva’s Owned Hostage

“You’re better than you think. You just fold too early.” He said it easily, in the same teasing rhythm we’d used even before the raid. Now, the banter came more naturally, like our relationship had become something that neither of us fully understood yet but both understood well enough to move through anyway.

Over the next hour, I found myself relaxing in small ways I didn’t consciously notice until they’d already happened. Dmitri didn’t push. He didn’t fill every silence with something meant to manage my emotions. Neither did he hover in the suffocating way I’d half expected from a man used to controlling every room he entered. He simply stayed close—present without crowding, quiet when I needed quiet and talking when I needed a distraction from myself. Overall, the absence of pressure felt unfamiliar. It also felt, somehow, safer than anything else about the past several days.

My phone buzzed on the countertop partway through breakfast, Camila’s name lighting up the screen along with a string of messages I’d missed overnight.

“Okay, I know you’re probably still processing everything, but I need details. How does it feel being MARRIED? Also, are you okay?”

“Also, is he being weird about it?”

“Also, I still can’t believe I watched you get married in an ivory dress. Would’ve caused a scene if simple didn’t look so damn good on you!”

I laughed under my breath, and Dmitri glanced over, curious.

“Camila,” I explained. “Demanding a full report on married life, clearly.”

“It’s still your life. Didn’t stop being yours,” he answered casually like he didn’t just assuage one of my major fears instead of responding to a playful text.

“Right,” I breathed.

I texted Camila back.

“I’m fine, Cam. Nothing’s weird, I can assure you. Still processing the change, I guess.”

She replied almost instantly.

“Good. Because if he was being weird about it, I would personally come there and fight a Golovin, security detail or not.”

“She says she’ll fight you if you’re weird about this,” I told him, grinning despite myself.

“Tell her I appreciate the loyalty. And that I have no intention of giving her a reason.”

I relayed the message, and Camila’s response came back within seconds, a single line that made me laugh out loud this time.

“Good. Because I’ve seen what happens to men who cross you now, apparently, and I’d rather not.”

I set the phone down, still smiling, and caught Dmitri watching me quietly. Like something just happened that he was pleased with.

I was imagining Camila sighing and hoping I was okay despite our texts. She had run up to me as soon as she’d gotten the chance during the ceremony, asking me what exactly happened because she knew Dmitri ‘didn’t corner me to propose on his knees with a declaration of love.’ Knowing I couldn’t risk putting her in danger, all I could tell her was it was unplanned and not about love. But I had also assured her that I wasn’t being held captive or anything. In the end, she teased me about Dmitri being the exact Golovin that had to take care of the ‘problem,’ of course.

“I never noticed it before,” Dmitri began, bringing my attention back to the room. He was already leaving the kitchen.

“Uh, noticed what?”

“The sound of your laughter. It’s non-rhythmic and… alive. And sexy. I like it,” he said.

I looked at him with a confused frown.

“See you later, wifey.”

Oh, that was me?

*****

Later that morning, he took me up to one of the private high-roller suites, cleared temporarily of the guests who usually filled it after dark. Without the noise and tension of an active game, the room felt almost peaceful, sunlight spilling gold across the felt tables instead of the low, artificial lighting.

“Round two,” he said, already shuffling.

“I thought last time was a one-time distraction.”