Page 12 of Arranged to Marry the Bratva

And then, I understand. She’s afraid of just what I’m asking for.

"Your freedom isn't in question here," I say, trying to keep my frustration in check as I reach over and gently brush my hand against her arm. "There are many responsibilities we have toward one another, beyond… the bedroom."

She gasps, her eyes and lips parted wide, as she stares at me in disbelief that I dared even broach the subject. Her eyes flicker around the room, making sure no one is paying attention to us. It seems we're in agreement on one thing—we don't want to make a scene. Our voices remain hushed, but the tension between us is palpable, even more so after what I just insinuated.

“What I’m trying to say is, Anoushka—” but I’m cut off.

"Everything all right here?" Damien, ever the overprotective one, approaches us with a thin smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He looks from me to his sister, concern etched on his face.

"Of course," Anoushka replies quickly, forcing a smile of her own. "I was just telling Nikolai I’m a little tired.”

"Good." Damien's gaze lingers on me, scrutinizing my every move. “Maybe a little fresh air would help,” he turns back to her. “The party should wind up soon enough.”

“You’re right,” Anoushka gets on her toes and kisses her brother breezily. “Fresh air is just what I need.”

Before I can protest to ask her to stay, she turns her back to me and walks out of the ballroom. Damien's gaze follows her retreating form, concern etched into every line of his face. Then, slowly, he turns back to me, his eyes hardening into chips of ice.

“Nikolai,” he says, forcing me to stay put. “Enjoying the wedding?”

“A man only gets married once,” I smile wryly. “I’m making the most of it.”

“Wise of you,” Damien nods.

We stand in silence until I ask him to excuse me. I turn to walk away because I need to find Anoushka when I feel his grip on my arm. I look back, questioning what he wants.

"I know my sister," he says, his voice low and threatening. "And I know when something's wrong. If I find out you've hurt her in any way… "

He lets the unspoken threat hang in the air between us. I meet his stare head-on, refusing to be cowed by this man who is now my brother-in-law.

"Anoushka is my wife," I remind him, my tone deceptively calm. "What happens between us is our business and ours alone. You'd do well to remember that, Damien."

His nostrils flare, but he doesn't push the issue. Not here, not now. Instead, he gives me one last warning look before turning and melting into the crowd, leaving me standing there.

While anger still fuels me at what Damien insinuated, I force myself to remain calm. Right now, I care about no one’s opinion and threats. All I need to do is find my wife. I walk out of the door Anoushka went through, walking past small loitering groups of well-wishers, nodding and smiling, but my mind is set on finding my wife.

Chapter 6 - Anoushka

The cool night air does little to calm my frayed nerves as I wander the twisting paths of the Orlov estate's garden. As I walk along the path, my thoughts drift back to my conversation with Nikolai. What did he mean when he said that there are many responsibilities we have toward one another beyond the bedroom? Does he expect us to share one bed and then for me to fulfill duties above and beyond?

Nikolai's words echo in my mind, a reminder of the "marital duties" he expects from our arranged union. Sharing a bed. The thought sends a flush of heat through me, almost making my knees tremble, even as my stomach churns with anxiety at the thought.

I can’t forget who he is—the ruthless leader of the Orlov clan, a man who pushes for his personal gains above all else. I should want nothing to do with him. But my traitorous body betrays me at the memory of his soulful brown eyes, the strength in his calloused hands, and the hard lines of his body as we danced.

A soft feminine moan in the darkness shakes me from my thoughts. I freeze in my tracks, straining to see through the shadows. There, ahead, two figures are stripping off each other’s clothes, locked in a passionate embrace, oblivious to anything but each other. My heart pounds in my chest, unable to tear my eyes away from the couple entwined in passion. The sounds of their moans and heavy breathing fill the air, making me blush furiously. The rawness of it all both scares and fascinates me. But I know I should leave; I have no business being here.

It’s just that the shock of it all has me paralyzed for a few seconds.

"We can't keep doing this," the woman pants, breathless. "It's too dangerous."

A low chuckle resonates through the night, and then the man rips off her dress, turning her around, pushing her against the tree, and begins to pull down his boxers.

Okay. I need to run. I look around wildly, trying to see which direction I can sneak off in.

But, as I step back, a branch cracks under my foot.

Shit. I don’t want them seeing me here while they’re engaged in this forbidden tryst. They might recognize me, and since they’re wedding guests, I’ll probably see whoever it is at some point or the other. Afraid I’d be discovered, I don’t think and find the closest cover, quickly ducking right through a pathway of small trees, bushes, and foliage, hoping to find a different route back to the Orlov mansion.

But then, I bang into a figure, startling me from my thoughts focused on escape. I almost trip forward, but firm, strong hands grip my waist to hold me in place. I smell him first, before I see him, Mahogany and clean citrus. I look up at those brown eyes and furrowed brow as his hands remain planted on my waist, pressing me dangerously close to him. For a brief second, I can’t find any words, breathless at the recognition of where I am and with whom. Dizzy from how his hands leave a burn where they touch.

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