Page 48 of The Bratva Sinner

I slide my hand over her shoulder, feeling the power in her muscles.

“What if I refuse, and someone comes for me? What if I end up near death in an alley, like Mara? What if my stubbornness gets not just me killed, but other people, too?”

Mara died because Maksim pulled me out of the club, and they needed him to know there was a price for that. Her blood is on my hands, whether I want to acknowledge it or not.

“I don’t want anyone else to die because of me,” I whisper.

Outlaw nudges me again, harder this time.

“Okay, okay. I hear you.” I pick up the brush and start working on her mane again. “You think I should say yes.”

She doesn’t disagree.

What would marriage to Maksim even look like? Would he expect me to be a trophy wife who lunches with other rich women and gets her nails done? Would I have to dress up and smile prettily at his business associates?

The thought makes me want to laugh. I don’t even know how to be that kind of woman. I wear jeans and boots. I won’t start tottering around on heels.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad,” I admit. “Maybe I could have some rules. Some boundaries.”

And then, I know.

“When he asks, I’ll say yes.”

I don’t have to turn around to know he’s there. Something about his presence changes the air and makes my skin prickle with awareness.

I keep brushing Outlaw’s mane, pretending I don’t notice him watching me.

“How long have you been standing there?” I finally ask without turning around.

“Long enough.”

Great.So, he heard me talking to a horse about marrying him. That’s not embarrassing at all.

I move to Outlaw’s other side, putting her body between us.

“It’s time,” he says.

I pause mid-stroke. “Time for what?”

“Marriage.”

I should feel panic. Fear. Something other than a strange flutter in my chest. Am I actually excited? I’m twisted. That’s the only explanation. Trauma has fucked me up.

“Fine.” I keep my voice flat and haughty. “But I will not wear a damn dress.”

Inside, I’m almost laughing. He thinks he’s getting a compliant wife who’ll do whatever he says. He has no idea what he’s signing up for.

“Fine.” He doesn’t hesitate. “You can be naked if you want.”

“I’m not—” I shoot a glare around Outlaw's neck at him.“That’s not what I meant.”

He’s watching me, looking too attractive in his dark jeans and black T-shirt. He rarely dresses so casually.

“I know what you meant,” he says. “Wear whatever you want. I don’t care.”

“Good.” I turn my attention back to Outlaw. “When?”

“Now.”