Page 63 of The Cold Bratva King and His Forced Curvy Bride

“They’re not important?”

“They’re a nuisance.”

I turn to look at him. He’s wearing a suit, dark gray, tailored perfectly. He looks like a king.

“If they’re just a nuisance,” I say quietly, “why did you tense up when he said their name?”

He doesn’t deny it. “I hate nuance,” he says. “And I hate repeating myself.”

He shifts closer. His arm brushes against mine. The heat of him bleeds through the fabric of my dress.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he murmurs. His voice drops an octave, vibrating against my ear.

“I look like a prop.”

“You look incredible.”

The compliment catches me off guard. “Liar.”

“Am I?” He turns, facing me fully. He’s invading my space again, boxing me in against the glass door. “I saw the way Viktor looked at you. Like he was calculating your value.”

“What is my value?”

“Incalculable.”

He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers graze my jawline. The touch is light, barely there, but it sends a shiver down my spine.

I remember the other night—his hands on my hips and his breath against my neck.

My body reacts instantly, a traitorous flush of heat that pools in my belly.

I look up at him. His eyes are dark, fixed on my mouth. He wants to kiss me. I can feel it in the air between us—the static, the pull. He’s leaning closer, just a fraction of an inch.

Deep down… I want him to.

I want him to grab me and drag me into the dark and make me forget about Ayaan and files and syndicates. I want to lose myself in the brute force of him.

If I give in, I lose the leverage. If I give him this, I have nothing left to bargain with.

“You want something,” I say, my voice coming out raspy.

“I want you.”

“Tell me about Site 4.”

His hand freezes. The air turns icy. “Excuse me?”

“Site 4,” I repeat, emboldened by the sudden crack in his armor. “The transfer order. Where did Ayaan go?”

He steps back. The distance returns, but the heat lingers. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Freya.”

“I’m asking a simple question.”

“I don’t answer questions about things that don’t concern you.”

“He’s my brother!”

Viktor and Elena stop talking. The staff freezes.