Page 17 of Arranged to Marry the Bratva

“Did you see how he tried to demean our marriage?”

“He’s my friend,” I tell him. “He was truly just looking out for me. He knows about how this marriage came to be. What do you expect him to do? Be happy and send us a wedding gift?”

“No. A true friend would advise caution and thought before jumping to conclusions. That guy?” Nikolai scoffs. “He’s living in his own head. I’m simply concerned that you can’t see him for who he is.”

“Concerned?” I fume, my frustration bubbling over. "You embarrassed me in front of my colleagues! My secretary? Telling her to call me Mrs. Orlov? What the hell was that? And then, the way you forced me out of the office with Maximus watching? That's not concern, that's domination!”

Nikolai’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he processes my words. His grip on the steering wheel tightens before he turns to face me with a smoldering gaze. “I’m not a perfect man, Anoushka. Nor am I saying my behavior was up to the mark. But weeks of trying to get through to you felt exhausting, and I suppose it all blew over today. You should know I don’t wish to dominate your life in any manner. However, I do wish to know what’s going on in it.”

I roll my eyes, waiting to see if there would be an apology in there. I realize now that at this point in our relationship, this is as close to an apology as I’d be getting from Nikolai. Oh well, something is better than nothing, and given his explanation, perhaps I need to do some thinking as well. I say nothing but look ahead, one question still brimming in my mind.

“So, how did you find me anyway?”

Here, I notice his hand on the wheel clench tighter, but he says nothing.

“Nikolai?”

He lets out a heavy sigh, his gaze flickering to me briefly before returning to the road. “I have my ways, Anoushka.”

I raise an eyebrow, skepticism evident in my expression. “Your ways?”

He doesn’t respond, the tension between us thickening in the air. As we turn right, I look back through the rearview mirror and lurch to face him, instinctively reaching out to touch his hand, forgetting all about the unanswered question.

“Home’s that way,” I tell him, pointing back and left.

“We’re not going home,” he says cryptically, giving no other explanation.

“Of course, we aren’t,” I mumble under my breath. “Kidnapping me, are you?”

“Doubt anyone would pay ransom to have you back,” he teases back immediately. I shake my head in disbelief, his audacity actually managing to amuse me. I can't help but admire how easily he can switch from serious and brooding to light-hearted and charming. It's frustrating, really, how he can be so infuriating yet so irresistible at the same time.

“By the time I’m done with you,” I quip back, “you’d be paying someone to have me off your hands.”

Here, he chuckles, a deep and rich sound that literally makes me shiver and want to hear it again. The vehicle glides smoothly into a parking space near a decrepit-looking building that stands out amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. I peer up at the sign that reads "La Fantasia" in intricate golden lettering, my confusion growing. What are we doing here?

I stare at it in disbelief, my eyebrows knitting together in disapproval. "You've got to be kidding me, Nikolai," I say, my voice dripping with disdain. "I have no interest in entering some seedy gentlemen's club."

"Seedy?" he chuckles. "Hardly. Trust me, you'll change your mind once we're inside."

I cross my arms, determined to stand my ground. "I don't care how fancy it looks. I don't belong in places like this. Even if you own it."

Nikolai simply smirks and gets out of the car, opening my door before I can protest further. He extends his hand toward me, an unspoken demand for my cooperation. Reluctantly, I place my hand in his, feeling the strength that lies in his grip as he offers a firm grip.

"Let me show you what La Fantasia is really about," he says, guiding me into the club. “After all, it is your husband’s business.”

I literally have no interest, but given how he’s clearly established today is going to be one of those days when he calls all the shots, I decide to let him have this. Maybe then, he’d get it out of the system and leave me alone!

At the entrance, a guard salutes Nikolai, and he puts a hundred-dollar bill in his hand. I walk past, noticing the staff parting to let him through. The place smells like expensive champagne and flowers. At the centerstage, a beautiful wooden stage rests elevated above the ground. Gorgeous suede and high-backed velvet sofas with rattan chairs make for cozy corners. A floor-to-ceiling bar holds hundreds of rare bottles, and in the corner, a drum set glistens in the dim light. All around, large vases hold fresh flowers, and the walls are adorned with beautiful art of times bygone.

Okay. It’s actually really quaint and I’ll admit, I’m impressed by the elegant atmosphere. There's none of the sleaziness I expected from such an establishment. Instead, soft jazz music plays in the background while some patrons engage in quiet conversations over drinks—gentlemen dressed in suits and women in beautiful, elegant designer dresses. The dim lighting creates a sense of intimacy, and the décor exudes sophistication.

My preconceived notions crumble as I take in the scene before me. This isn't the sordid den of iniquity I imagined—it's something else entirely. And yet, I can't shake the feeling of unease, wondering why Nikolai brought me here.

"Surprised?" he asks, his voice low and husky in my ear.

"A little," I admit, trying to hide the fact that I'm actually impressed by what I see.

"Good," he says, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Now come with me; there's something I want to show you."

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