Page 112 of Auctioned to My Bratva Boss

"I knew it!" Evelyn's eyes gleamed. "But seriously. You told me he got your name tattooed near his heart? That's actually romantic. He's all action, not just talk."

Her words unlocked something soft inside me.

Yeah. This man who could shake New York's underworld with a flick of his finger had been treating me like I was made of glass since learning I was pregnant.

If I craved some obscure hometown snack in the middle of the night, he'd send people across half of New York to find it. If I fell asleep drawing designs, I'd wake up wrapped in his coat, smelling of cedar.

"He's good to me," I said, unable to stop myself from smiling.

"Jesus, you two are disgustingly in love. I give up." Then she shifted gears, making an obscene gesture. "One last question—the most important one. Is he also, you know... exceptionally gifted? I mean, if he's wearing you out that bad, I'm curious about the size—"

"Evelyn Quinn!" I wanted to crawl into a hole. "One more word and I'm leaving!"

At the bar, Matvey glanced back, smirking. That one look made my hand freeze around my glass, heat crawling up my neck.

He definitely heard. And he was staying put, giving us space to finish.

Soon enough, Matvey returned with drinks. He settled beside me, all lazy confidence.

"A bachelorette party where the groom tags along the whole time," Evelyn muttered.

"Tomorrow she's my wife," Matvey replied, then looked at me. "If I had my way, I wouldn't leave your side for a second."

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I glared at him. He just smiled, indulgent and maddeningly calm.

The moment I turned to grab my water, his hand slipped under my shirt from behind, warm palm settling on my waist. He squeezed lightly.

I shivered, nearly dropping my glass. That bastard.

Evelyn's eyes flicked between us. Her expression shifted from amused gossip to knowing understanding.

"Ahem—" She dragged the sound out, grabbed her purse, and stood. "I just remembered I need to touch up my makeup."

"You two... take your time." She winked at me and made a beeline for the restroom, leaving us alone in the booth.

"Evelyn!" I tried to call her back, but the hand on my waist tightened, pulling me into his arms.

"Don't bother." Matvey laughed softly, resting his chin on top of my head. "She's not coming back anytime soon."

"This is your fault," I grumbled, making a halfhearted attempt to push away. But I didn't really want to leave his embrace.

He was too warm, his crisp cedar scent wrapping around me, making me melt.

"My fault for what?" His other hand covered my barely-there bump, gentle. "For wanting the whole world to know you're mine?"

"Your possessiveness is already legendary across New York." I poked his chest—right where my name was tattooed.

"That's nowhere near enough." He caught my hand, pressing it firmly over his heart so I could feel the steady, powerful beat. "I want you to marry me. Take my name. Become Mrs. Bykov."

Possessive. Commanding. And somehow, it filled every empty space in my heart.

"Nervous?" he asked suddenly.

"About what?"

"Tomorrow. The wedding."