EPILOGUETHE BRUTE AND HIS GIRLAURORASix months later.“Mrs. Volkov!”I stopped in the middle of the kitchen.Slowly, I turned around.Aleksandr stood in the doorway, wearing black sweatpants and absolutely nothing else.His long black hair was tied back.His tattoos covered his broad chest, shoulders, and arms.And he was smiling.That dangerous, arrogant smile that still made my stomach flutter.I narrowed my eyes.“I’m not Mrs. Volkov.”“Not yet.”“Aleksandr.”“What?”“You can’t keep calling me that.”“Why?”“Because you haven’t asked me to marry you!”He grinned.“Details.”I threw a strawberry at him.He caught it.Of course he did.Then he ate it.“Terrible woman.”“Terrible man.”He crossed the kitchen, caught my waist, and lifted me onto the counter.I squealed.“Aleksandr!”“Good morning, beautiful.”“You already said good morning.”“Again.”He kissed me.And just like that, I forgot why I was arguing.Which happened far too often.Six months.We had been living in his secr
Dernière mise à jour : 2026-09-29 Read More