Page 26 of The Bratva's Forced Bride

Addison was an asset; the kind of woman you kept around for a long, long time. She was the kind of woman you marry.

“No,” was all I said, and they didn’t push further. I made my decision.

If Logan came for her, I’d capture him, make him suffer and Addison would find out the truth. But either way, she was mine to keep. She just didn’t know it yet.

Chapter 10 - Addison

“The most dangerous thing you can do in life is to play it safe.” – Casey Neistat

Silver moonlight flooded the room through the gaps in the curtain and because it was so enchanting, I couldn’t resist. I looked outside.

My heart clenched.

It didn’t matter how beautiful the stars were in the night sky or how beautiful the property was, with the bright lanterns strung from the entrance to the driveway. Nothing mattered. All I could do was stare. My freedom was not guaranteed.

With every day I spent here, I felt like I was losing my mind by the second. It was hell sitting there, staring at the ceiling, wishing that one morning I would wake up and realize that I was trapped in a bad dream. But nothing had changed.

Almost two weeks later, I was still here, in the same house, in the same room, between the same sheets, in the hands, and under the watchful gaze of Mark Varkov.

The only difference was that I had more clothes now.

Restless, I got up from the bed and paced the room in my bare feet. I hadn’t seen him since that day in the store. Although yesterday I had overheard a conversation between two of his men outside my door about boring soccer matches and a woman, they had both made out with at various times. Then they came to talk about the house and mentioned that the boss was away on business.

My heart sank at this news. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why. I had spent the rest of the day trying to convince myself that I didn’t care where he was and that I didn’t miss him.

Tonight, had been no different, but this time it threatened to drive me mad. And Logan's sudden silence after delivering the message made the days of waiting unbearable.

I had to get out of these four walls and go for a walk. I needed to breathe.

I marched briskly out of the room, dressed only in a red silk nightgown he had bought for me. I didn’t bother with underwear. The men guarding the corridors had changed their posts hours ago.

I made my way to the kitchen, hoping to prepare some meal delicious enough to distract me and take my mind off the tormenting thoughts. But on the way there, my steps were interrupted by the sound of light music coming from one of the rooms. And that was the most unusual thing, especially because it sounded like Adele’s Someone Like You.

My ears pricked up. In all the days I had spent in this house, I had never heard anyone play music. And certainly not Adele. In a house full of guns, bombs, and violence.

The craving for food was gone. I welcomed the unexpected event with open arms and changed my mind, determined to follow the music.

I walked down the hall, mumbling a few familiar words as I moved. Honestly, it was thrilling, very exciting even; and when I finally arrived at the source, with the door partially open, I felt like one of the adventurers of centuries ago who had discovered new continents. So elated and fulfilled.

Without knocking, I pushed the door open wider and slipped inside ... The smile disappeared from my face; the joy faded like a balloon deflating.

Musk perfume.

Dark curtains at the window, silky gray sheets on the bed, and refined furnishings in the room. No further proof was needed. This was his room. The only thing that didn’t quite fit was the sound of Adele’s voice singing, ‘I wish nothing but the best for you too …’

I should have pivoted on my heels and skedaddled without looking back but, somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to. It felt comforting to be in his private space and I wrapped my arms around myself, longing to be held.

I looked around and enjoyed the feel of the soft, fluffy carpet between my toes and the cool atmosphere that the king-size room offered. Everything was as neat as its owner; nothing was out of place or cluttered. Not the shoes on the long rack in the walk-in closet, not the clothes neatly lined up on hangers, or the careful arrangement of his watches on the chest of drawers.

The surfaces were polished, and everything smelled clean; and when I decided to leave, the large oil painting of a naked woman on the wall opposite the bed caught my attention.

My eyes were glued to the painting for a while, studying the beautiful naked body stretched out on a golden, satin sheet with intricate details. I didn’t even notice when the music stopped. Someone cleared his throat behind me, and my heart sank to the pit of my stomach.

“Looking for something?”

No. Freaking. Way.

I mentally slapped my forehead.

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