Page 54 of The Bratva Sinner

“I’m not yours.”

“You are.” I hold up my left hand, showing her the ring. “You’re my wife. That means something.”

“It means nothing.” But her voice wavers.

I reach out and cup her face, tilting it up so she has to look at me. “It means everything. You’re mine, Lila. I will not let them take you. And my name on yours means that every man who tries has to answer to me first. You’re mine to protect."

Her breath hitches. I see the conflict in her eyes as fear and want war with each other.

“I don’t want to be owned,” she whispers.

“Then don’t think of it as ownership.” I stroke my thumb across her cheek. “Think of it as belonging. You belong here. With me. Safe.”

“Safe.” She chuckles. “Nothing about this is safe.”

I realize something as I look at her standing there. Taking her virginity would devalue her. Make her less of a prize.

It’s strategic. Smart, even.

“If I took your virginity,” I say slowly, thinking it through out loud, “you’d be worthless to them. They want you pure and untouched. If you’re not, there’s no point in coming after you.”

She stares at me. “What did you just say?”

“It’s actually brilliant. If we?—"

Her fist connects with my jaw before I can finish the sentence.

“You fucking asshole!” She swings again. I catch her wrist this time, but she uses her other hand to shove me hard in the chest. “Get out! Get the fuck out!”

“Stop!”

“You want to fuck me to make me worthless?” She’s screaming now, and tears stream down her face. “That’s what I am to you? A problem you can solve by sticking your dick in me?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Get out!” She grabs a pillow and throws it at my head. “Get out, get out, get out!”

I back toward the door with my hands raised in surrender. “Lila, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound so rude.”

“I don’t care what you meant!” Another pillow flies at me. “You’re just like the rest of them! You see me as something with a price tag. Something that loses value the second a man puts his hands on it.”

I leave before she finds something heavier to throw.

Out in the hallway, my jaw throbs where she hit me. The girl has a decent right hook.

What was I thinking? That came out all wrong. So fucking wrong.

I find Damien in the kitchen, making a sandwich. With our line of work, we keep strange hours. Usually, no one is up before ten in the morning. He looks at my face and shakes his head.

“What did you do?”

“I fucked up.”

“Obviously. Might want to put some ice on that.”

I make an ice pack and tell him the whole thing, including my brilliant strategy and Lila’s reaction to it.

“Shit, Maksim.” Damien sets down his cup. “You told your wife—your virgin wife—that you wanted to fuck her to make her worthless?”