Broken Whispers (Perfectly Imperfect, #2)

by Neva Altaj

“Now, let’s clear up a few things,” Mikhail says. “You touch my wife again, in any way, I cut off your hand. I hear you speak badly about her, I cut out your tongue. You dare to even think about hitting her ever again, I cut off your head. Am I clear, Bruno?”

“Ty luch solntsa v pasmurnyy den’, Bianca,” he says into my lips, kisses me again, and slowly lowers me to the ground.

He stands behind me and divides my hair into three sections again, then starts braiding my hair for me. His moves might be a little clumsy, but it looks like he knows what he’s doing.

“No one is allowed to look at you, Bianca. Just me.”

“The way you look at my Bianca. Like you would lay your body over a field of burning coals, so she could cross it without burning her feet.”

“No one is allowed to look at my wife the way they were doing.”

“If anyone dared to touch you, I would chop off their hand. Like I should have done with that idiot at your Nonna’s birthday party,” he whispers. “And if someone was insane enough to try putting his mouth near my wife, I would behead him.”

“Because I am in love with you. Every part of you. Your grumpy personality included. Fucking deal with it.”

“Ya lyublyu tebya vsey dushoy, solnyshko,” he says into my ear. “Ya ne pozvolyu nikomu zabrat’ tebya.”