Page 111 of Auctioned to My Bratva Boss

Before I could say anything, a large, elegant hand appeared and pressed down on the glass he'd pushed toward me.

"She's spoken for." That deep cello voice made my spine go rigid.

How the hell did Matvey track me down so fast?

The guy looked up, met Matvey's gaze, and went pale. He clearly recognized that face—the one that lived at the top of New York's elite circles and was always tied to whispers about the underworld.

He mumbled an apology and bolted.

I turned to Matvey, torn between annoyed and amused. "How did you even find us?"

Evelyn and I had snuck out.

"In New York? You think you can leave my sight?" He raised an eyebrow, his possessiveness written all over his face.

He raised his hand and snapped his fingers toward the bar.

"I'm buying out the place tonight," he told the approaching staff member. "Clear it."

"Wait, wait." Evelyn cut off the guy about to carry out the order. "Our dear pakhan, that's really not necessary. With you standing guard over Riley like a bodyguard, nobody's gonna dare come near her anyway."

"It's mainly for Evelyn—" I jumped in, half-joking. "She's still single. If you kick everyone out, where's she supposed to meet hot guys? If there's not a single living male left in this bar, she'll kill me."

"Hey—" Evelyn pinched me, laughing.

Matvey's intense gaze lingered on my face for two seconds before he finally gave in. He tilted his chin at the staff member, signaling him to back off.

"Fine." His tone was dead serious. "But if you like places like this, I'll buy you a bar tomorrow. You pick the neighborhood."

I just stared at him.

Evelyn was doubled over laughing.

"My God, Matvey," she said, wiping tears from her eyes. "Your possessiveness is something else."

"I'm getting drinks." Matvey shot her a look but didn't argue, then headed toward the bar.

The second Matvey left, Evelyn pounced.

"Okay, spill. While the tyrant's away."

"Spill what?" I leaned back warily.

"What do you think? Behind closed doors—you and Matvey. Give me details."

I nearly choked on my soda.

"Evelyn!" I lunged to cover her mouth, glancing around frantically—damn it, the place wasn't cleared yet, and people at the next table were staring. "Keep your voice down!"

"Relax, nobody knows us here." She pried my hand away. "Just one question. Is he exhausting in bed? I'm betting he's the type with insane stamina. Does he wear you out so bad you can't even get out of bed the next day?"

I was burning from head to toe. How the hell did she figure that out? And worse—she was right about every word.

"See? I knew it." She leaned in close, voice dropping to a whisper only we could hear. "So is he the gentle, sweet-talking type, or... the kind who likes total control and pushes you till you come apart?"

Images flooded my mind—him gripping my chin, forcing me to look at him. His low, rough voice making me say filthy things until my fingers trembled...

"The latter," I admitted.