Sold To The Bratva Boss: An Instalove Older Man Younger Woman Possessive Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 193)

by Flora Ferrari

  She relaxes against me, laying her head against my chest, breathing in a long, slow breath.

  “I’m relieved,” she admits. “I guess part of me was still scared you were the big bad wolf.”

  “Oh, I am,” I tell her, tickling under her sides playfully. “But it just so happens this big bad wolf, somewhere along the way, learned some restraint.”

  That restraint does not extend to Anna, though. We devour each other every day, attacking each other with wild hands and lips and nibbling teeth, falling into bed and learning each other’s bodies in every way we can think of.

  “I’m so glad I waited,” I tell her later, lying sweaty and sex-contended in bed with her, making circles in her hair with my fingers.

  “I still can’t believe that,” she giggles, writhing naked against me. “The most badass man in the whole freaking universe. And you waited for me.”

  “You’re my Bratva queen,” I growl. “Who the fuck else was I supposed to wait for?”

  Slowly, I sense the wounds from the meeting with Emilio starting to heal in Anna. I can read it in the glances she gives me, in the tension that slowly sifts out of her as she stands at the kitchen island, preparing us another mind-fucking meal.

  That’s one thing that’s stood out this week.

  Her cooking.

  She has a real natural gift.

  I know she can make a career of it, if she wants to.

  And I’ll be there, every step of the way.

  Always.

  We finally feel comfortable enough leaving Rocky with the dog-sitter again. It turns out that Emilio, as well as kidnapping the old owner to lure Rocky out of the estate, also forced the dog-sitter’s partner to call him and tell him she was in the hospital. It wasn’t his fault.

  Shit, if somebody told me Anna was in hospital, I’d tear the world to pieces to get to her.

  But tonight is important.

  A proper meal.

  “Are you sure?” she asks me in the limo, folding her legs over in a way that causes urgent hummingbirds to flurry around my body.

  She’s wearing a sleek black number that highlights every contour of her curvaceous body, her breasts bulging, already seeming fuller than when we first met. I feel my seed roaring at me, telling me of course they’re getting bigger.

  They’re getting ready.

  Soon, they’ll be full of our baby’s milk.

  But tonight is about us.

  I love her, and I still haven’t told her.

  Tonight has to go perfectly.

  “I’ve had dog cameras installed in every room,” I tell her. “We can tune in any time we like. And I’ve got Gavrie watching over the dog-sitter personally. I’ve also told the SOB that if he even thinks about dropping his cell again, I’ll shove it down his throat.”

  Anna giggles. “You’re bad, Artem.”

  “Yes,” I snarl, grabbing her thigh and squeezing onto the creamy bulk of it. “I am.”

  The limo drives us into the city, to a towering skyscraper.

  As we ride the glass elevator up – a view of the glistening city laid out before us, twinkling in the yellow setting sun – I feel my heart pounding in my chest.

  For the first time in a long, long time, perhaps since I was a child, I feel nerves swirling through me, a whispered voice telling me that this is a mistake, that she’s going to laugh at me.

  But no.

  This is right.

  I feel it in my fucking bones.

  The elevator opens onto a marble-floored restaurant, our table set against the window, giving us a view of the city. The place is empty apart from us and the staff, who wait respectfully, suited and booted and ready to take our orders.

  I let my hand smooth down Anna’s back as I lead her to the table, squeezing onto the place just above her ass, her perfect fucking ass. I have to move my hand further up her back straightaway, though, because the urge to grip on tightly and bend her over is too overwhelming.

  She arches an eyebrow as I pull her chair out for her, a wicked smile on her sassy face.

  “Why are you being so gentlemanly all of a sudden, huh?”

  “Probably because I love you,” I say, passion infusing my voice.

  She blinks, gaping at me, as though she thinks she misheard.

  “Um?” She leans toward me, like any second I could disappear. “I don’t want to be weird or anything, but did you just say what I think you did?”

  Idiot, I chide myself.

  I’d constructed a whole plan.

  Dinner then love then …

  And yet now that I’ve said it, I feel the emotion whelming inside of me and a lump forming in the back of my throat.

  “I love you,” I growl, striding toward her and enveloping her in my embrace, squeezing her close to me, holding her tight and never wanting to let her go. “I love you more than I could ever explain, Anna. You’re … fuck, you’re my oxygen. You mean everything to me. I love you.”

  “I love you,” she gasps. “I’ve been thinking of saying it all week, but it just—”

  “It’s hard to shoot first,” I say, the corners of my lips twitching upward like there are two invisible strings attached to me.

  “Exactly,” she smiles.

  “So we’re in love,” I say. “We’re in love and there’s nobody I would rather be with, ever. I waited my whole life for you and now that I’ve found you, it’d take the end of the goddamned universe to make me let you go. And even then, the universe would be up for a hell of a fight. So Anna Moore, I have something very, very important to ask you.”

  At the use of her full name, tears prick her eyes, glistening brightly.

  As I step back and reach inside my jacket pocket, she squeals and clasps her hands in front of her, gazing at me as her eyes widen to saucers, cutely, confidently, oh-so-Anna.

  I kneel down and take the ring box out, opening it to reveal a glistening diamond, large but not too large, not gaudy.

  Elegant, just like her, a ring worthy of a queen.

  “All my life, I’ve been searching for something, for somebody. It’s you, Anna. You’re the … dammit, you’re the other half of me, you’re what completes me. Without you, I feel like less of a person. I love you more than I could ever explain with words. So I’m going to spend every day for the rest of our lives proving it to you. And to our children. Anna Moore, will you marry me?”

  “Yes,” she cries, throwing herself forward.

  A laugh of pure joy – and relief – escapes me as I take the ring from the box and catch her hand. I slide the ring onto her finger, where it fits snugly and comfortably, and then stand up and wrap my arms around her.

  “I wanted to wait until after dinner,” I whisper in her ear. “But with you, Anna, waiting turns out to be impossible.”

  She laughs through a sob of happiness and our lips magnetize to each other like they always do, irrepressible, like they always will for every star-bright day of our star-bright lives.

  She moans through the kiss and I squeeze her closer to me.

  My queen.

  My fiancé.

  My love.

  EPILOGUE

  THREE WEEKS LATER

  Anna

  As we eat dinner – a simple fish dish, I’m too amped-up to go all out – I feel about a million butterflies dancing in my belly. They swirl around like they’re trying to mess with my head or something.

  I focus on Artem instead, watching him as he bites into the fish, my eyes straying to the way his suit hugs into his arm as he brings the fork to his mouth and chews slowly, closing his eyes to savor the taste.

  There’s something so wonderful about watching my man eat a meal I’ve prepared for him, about seeing the passion light up his features and the sense of belonging that wash over both of us.

  It’s been the same this past almost-month, moment upon moment of love cascading to form a freaking waterfall of emotion, each day brighter than the last.

  I glance outside the kitchen room window a
nd watch as Rocky carries his ball back to his self-throwing device, my smile irrepressible.

  “Are you okay, Anna?” Artem asks.

  “Okay?” I giggle, shooting him a look. “That’s probably the biggest understatement in the history of understatements. I’m about a million rungs above okay, Artem.”

  “Then you’re hiding something,” he murmurs, a smile on his lips, smiles which have come far more freely since we’ve settled into the beauty of our everyday lives.

  “Don’t pretend you can read me,” I say, pouting, knowing full well that he can read me.

  He can read me like a book.

  Because he’s my man and of course he can.

  “Have you finished your dinner yet?” I ask.

  He chuckles, glancing down at his half-eaten fish and his vegetables, a large portion of which are still remaining.

  “Are we involved in some sort of race I wasn’t made aware of?”

  “It’s just, I’d really like you to go to the refrigerator and get the dessert out. I mean, I know it sounds crazy, but I’d really like you to do that right now. Because thinking about it – the dessert – it’s sort of driving me insane. I think I’ll explode if you don’t do it right this second.”

  He grins, reaching across the table and smoothing his thumb across my lower lip, an indulgent grin lighting up his face.

  “You are up to something,” he says. “But fine, yes, I’ll play along. This better be one special dessert.”

  “I hope so,” I whisper, nerves dancing, wondering if this is silly.

  If this is, in fact, probably the worst possible way I could do this.

  Artem stands and walks over to the refrigerator. When he opens it, the yellow light bathes him. I watch as he begins to tremble slightly, his whole body.

  He reaches inside and takes out the paper towel, squeezing it and what’s on top delicately in his fist, turning and facing me with happiness trying to bloom in his intense brown eyes.

  But it won’t, not yet, not until he knows if this is true.

  “Is this what I think it is?” he whispers.

  I stand up and walk over to him, tears pricking my eyes and sliding down my cheeks, tears making my cheeks warm, so warm I feel like there’s a sun inside of me, glowing, infusing every part of me with life-giving heat.

  “Yes,” I whisper. “It’s a pregnancy test, Artem. And it’s positive. It’s positive. We’re going to have a baby.”

  These past few weeks have seen a new side of Artem emerge, a more fun-loving side, an aspect of him that smiles more readily.

  But when I tell him this news, his smile is almost boyish, pure joy lighting up his features as his eyes glimmer and he lets out a roar of victory, a roar of love, of pure freaking love.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” he roars, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me up off my feet.

  He spins me around and around.

  I giggle and clasp tightly to him, knowing he won’t let me go, knowing he’ll bring me safely back down no matter how high and for how long we fly.

  Always.

  “I love you so much,” he says, kissing my cheek, getting closer to my lips with each contact. “And our baby, I’ll love them so much, too. I’m the happiest man alive, Anna.”

  I wipe tears from my cheeks and nuzzle into him, certain I can already feel our baby shifting around inside of me, eager to come out into the world and meet us.

  EXTENDED EPILOGUE

  ONE YEAR LATER

  Artem

  I cradle Aurora to my chest as I walk up the wide stone path to the culinary school, the sun shining warmly today, but not too warmly that it will do Aurora any harm. In any case, I make sure to give her all the attention she deserves, my little bundle, my smiling princess with her beautiful sleeping face resting against my torso.

  “How do you think Mommy’s first day went?” I ask, walking past students, not giving a damn if any of them want to look my way and judge me for being so openly emotional.

  Fuck no.

  Those days of trying to beat down this heat inside of me are long gone.

  I walk to the fountain where Anna asked me to meet her after class and sit down on the edge, bobbing Aurora up and down softly the way she likes, the way that helps her sleep, as Rocky sits at my feet and watches the students pass with his head cocked, as if daring them to try to do any harm to his pack.

  I reach down and ruffle the terrier behind the ears, smiling when his mouth opens and his tongue comes lolling out.

  “How do you think she did, huh?” I ask, both my daughter and my loyal friend. “I know, I know, amazing. I knew you’d say that.”

  I cherish moments like these, moments where I can forget about business and just be a family man. I will always have my responsibilities, of course, but to be able to sit here on a warm day with my daughter cradled close to me and my dog sitting at my feet, it’s like a slice of heaven transported to earth.

  It’s perfect.

  No … I have to correct myself, because when I see Anna walking across the quad to greet us, I know that she’s the very definition of perfection and nothing and nobody even comes close.

  She’s still beautifully shapely from the pregnancy, her dress settling over her curves as though whoever designed that dress was trying to drive me as insane as they possibly can. Her new bob cut makes her look cute and so sexy I could roar. She shoulders her bag, filled with her textbooks for the new year, and even that gesture fills me with a crashing tsunami of need for my wife.

  She’s here. She’s doing it. She’s following her dream.

  And I couldn’t be prouder.

  “Hello, sweetness,” she says when she reaches us, leaning down and kissing Aurora on the top of the head. “And hello you.”

  She reaches down and ruffles Rocky.

  “I see you’ve saved the worst till last,” I grin.

  She pouts. “The best.”

  She leans over Aurora’s head and our lips meet, a brief moment of love and closeness, but I can taste the ever-present lust on her lips, the same lust that moves around me every second of every day, every time I so much as think of my wife.

  “Ready to go?” I ask.

  “Hmm,” she says, nodding.

  “How was it?” I mutter as we walk toward the exit, Anna taking Rocky’s leash and smiling brightly at me as I rearrange Aurora in my embrace.

  “It was amazing,” she says, passion flaring under her words. “Honestly, Artem, it was everything I dreamed it’d be. I know it’s going to be hard. I know I’m going to have to work my ass off. But I’m ready. I really am. I think I … well, I think I might be able to do this.”

  “Might?” I laugh. “Anna, you’re already the best chef in the world. You’re going to set the world on fire. Just you wait and see.”

  Her cheeks blush crimson in the cutest way imaginable, and then she reaches down with her free hand and curls her arm around my waist, hugging close to me.

  “I love you,” she whispers. “So much. And thank you. For supporting me.”

  “Always,” I tell her, kissing her on the top of the head, smelling her shampoo and her just-Anna scent. “A husband’s job is to make his wife so happy that she’s willing to be absolutely submissive in the bedroom. And I think I’m doing a fine job there.”

  “Ha ha,” she says, rolling her eyes. But then she bites her lip in that way I know well, the same way she did on our wedding night. “I still can’t believe you even want me, after Rory. After the pregnancy, I mean.”

  I laugh, looking her up and down, drinking in the supple sight of her, her curves enhanced by her body’s passage through motherhood.

  “I want you now more than I ever have. And that’s going to be true for every day for the rest of our lives. When are you going to realize that, Anna? You could be the size of a house and I’d still want you. Because I want you. Your curves. Your sassiness. Your ambition. I love you.”

  “I love you,” she breathes, leaning forward and kissing me, a
nd then both of us kiss the top of Aurora’s head, and we stay like that, just for a moment, basking in our joy.

  EXTENDED EPILOGUE

  TEN YEARS LATER

  Anna

  “I think you’re going to do amazing—no, fantastic—no absolutely, um, um …”

  Aurora giggles when she can’t think of another word to praise me with, which is her current way of expressing her flowering creativity. She’s decided to dedicate herself to learning one word a day at the moment, and she’s doing so well, it fills me with pride each time I hear a new one.

  “You are, you are,” Alek says from the back seat, my six year old bobbing up and down, his father’s brown eyes glinting with excitement.

  I glance at my husband in the driver’s seat, dressed in a pale blue suit with his face covered in a sleek iron beard. He looks as strong and capable as the day we first flew together like magnets and metal, except now he has a looseness, an easiness about him that he never had before.

  Love.

  That’s what it is.

  Pure, contended, shiny love.

  “You are the best chef in the world,” Natalie says, glancing up from her Kindle, my eight year old almost as voracious a reader as her big sister. She has my dark, unlike the other three who have their father’s light colored hair.

  Paula is at home with the nanny, a necessity which caused a stirring of uncertainty in me earlier today.

  I was almost going to call the whole thing off until Artem pulled me aside.

  “Listen,” he said, leaning close to me and looking at me, into me, in that way only my husband could.

  Like he could see everything I was made of and was ready to support it, all of it, in any way he could.

  Perhaps that’s part of the reason his business has flourished so much this past decade, his legitimate businesses far outweighing the Bratva life.

  “You’ve worked your way up to this moment. You’ve kicked ass as head chef for three years and now you’re going to open your own restaurant. I know it’s hard, but the children want you to follow your dreams. They respect you. They look up to you. They love you, Anna. I love you. So go out there and kick some goddamn ass, okay?”