Owned by the Badman (Russian Bratva #1) Read Free Page A

somewhere around six-foot-five-inches. He is broad and big, but with a trim waist. His middle is thick with muscle, but his stomach flat at the same time. His body is, of course, encased in his suit. Armani . I can tell the brands of suits almost as easily as women’s shoes. My father adores his suits and my mother her shoes.
    When I finally reach his side, he looks down at me and I gasp. Maxim Lasovska is older than me by at least ten years. He has a scar on his upper lip, but neither of these things makes him less beautiful, and he is just that— beautiful . He has a full head of light brown hair, slightly longer than my father’s perfectly trimmed locks, messier too. Even still, he looks like a model. His face is clean-shaven, and his blue eyes sparkle.
    I do not understand why this man is marrying a complete stranger, not when he could have any woman on the planet at his side. He holds his huge hand out, and I slip my much smaller one inside, noticing the size difference. He wraps his warm fingers around my hand, and I feel a surge of energy flow throughout my entire body.
    I don’t pay attention to the ceremony; I robotically speak at my turn, sliding the tungsten ring on my new husband’s large finger when I am prompted. I feel as though he slides a brick on my own finger. The wedding ring is gigantic. It is at least a ten-carat weight emerald-cut diamond. The ostentatious ring itself makes me wonder just who this man is, and how rich is he to afford such a gorgeous piece of jewelry for his wife— who is a complete stranger to him?
    When the priest announces that we are joined in holy matrimony, Maxim places his gigantic hands on my cheeks and bends down, giving me soft and gentle closed-mouth kiss.
    My first kiss is unexpectedly beautiful. Soft and sweet, his full lips brush mine and send warmth throughout my belly and my entire body, better than I had ever anticipated.
    I smile widely as we make our way past friends and family who are clapping with joy and jubilation over our vows. I feel like a liar . It isn’t right. We don’t love each other; we don’t even know each other, but here we are before God and every person in our lives, claiming that we are truly soul mates, lovers, and friends.
    Once we are outside of the church, I look for the car that will take us to our reception. But there is no limousine waiting for us. Instead, there is a Bentley with a driver standing with the door open, awaiting our arrival.
    “Inside, Haleigh,” Maxim murmurs. His rich, deep accented voice sends chills over my body as his hand leaves mine to slide to the small of my back, and he gently pushes me inside.
    “Congratulations, sir,” the driver says with a smile. He too has an accent, Russian perhaps? Maxim nods and follows behind me into the car.
    Now, we are truly alone, and I am back to being terrified.
    “I apologize that I was unable to attend the pre-wedding functions,” he says coolly.
    The words are an apology, but I don’t think they are sincere. His heavy Russian accent, now completely recognizable to me, is thick and his voice a deep timbre. Not what I expected at all. I smile and shake my head, trying to brush off the disappointment and worry of not meeting him ahead of time. It is over now.
    “I understand. You had business,” I say shakily. His eyes darken to a rich blue, and I don’t know what that means, but they are still alluring, and I am finding it difficult to look away from them.
    “Did your father tell you of my business?” he asks. I can feel his anger throughout the car; it is almost palatable.
    “No, my mother only told me that you were unable to attend certain events because business kept you away. I only meant that I wasn’t upset or bothered because I know how important a career is, and things happen that are unavoidable,” I scramble, trying to defuse whatever the situation is. I’m trying to calm his anger since I do not know him and I have no idea how reacts to being angry. He