Page 22 of Paid for By the Bratva

Devices I’ve never before had a chance to explore.

***

A few hours after our tense breakfast, I find myself sitting in the living room, staring blankly at the book in my lap. I keep reading the same sentence over and over again, and yet, I can’t get my mind away from all the intrusive thoughts running through my head.

Too much has changed overnight.

I grab my phone to see if there are any calls or messages from any of my brothers. There are none. I had tried calling the house earlier but was told they had all gone in for work and would be busy.

Their cell phones went unanswered.

I put aside the book, my heart aching in pain from the disappointment I’ve caused my brothers. Of course, they need their space to come around and accept that I got married without involving them in the decision.

They’ve protected me their whole life, and now, I treated them as well as I might a stranger. The guilt seeps through me, and sitting here alone isn’t doing me any good.

Maybe I should do something that keeps my mind busy. I decide to take Dima up on his suggestion earlier today and make this house mine in whatever small ways I can.

With that, I spend the day exploring the mansion, determined to carve out my own space within its walls. The house is grand and filled with expensive contemporary artwork and furniture, but it feels cold and impersonal. I decide to start with my bedroom, replacing the overly white bedding with a simple floral pattern and more to my taste. I ask the housekeeper to arrange a car to go to my place and collect a box of my favorite books and framed photos, which I shall arrange later.

As I work, I allow myself to imagine living here, not just as Dima's reluctant wife, but as someone who belongs. It's a dangerous thought, but I can't help it. There's something about having control over my surroundings that makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I can regain control over my life.

I move on to the living room, rearranging furniture and adding throw pillows and blankets to make it more inviting. The transformation is subtle, but it's enough to make me feel more at ease.

***

As darkness falls, though, restlessness creeps in. My temporary contentment fades, replaced by an itch I can't scratch.

I feel the urge to do something reckless. Despite Dima's efforts to make me feel at home, there's still this gnawing feeling of confinement within me. I need a place to unwind; somewhere I can escape to without the constant reminder of my forcedmarriage. I need to get out, to breathe air untouched by the influence of this situation that makes me feel powerless.

I want to feel the way I did just weeks ago—free to live for myself…

I know he won't willingly let me leave, not after rescuing me from trouble caused during my nights out in Philadelphia. But I'm not some fragile doll in need of his protection. I’ve learned my lesson and am wise enough to know that I won’t repeat the same mistakes I made.

At this point, I’d be happy with a hot dog and a walk on the street. Or maybe I could run in for a Jazz show. Mind made up, I wait until the mansion falls silent. I wait until I hear the distant sound of Dima's footsteps retreating down the hallway before slipping into action. My heart races with anticipation as I pull on a pair of jeans and a hoodie. The thrill of sneaking out fills me with an adrenaline rush that pushes aside any lingering doubts or fears.

I sneak down the servants' staircase, praying I can make it outside undetected. Heart pounding, I ease open a side door and slip out into the gardens cloaked by the night.

The cool air fills my lungs like a drug, soothing my agitated nerves. I relax for the first time in days, savoring my hard-won freedom. Now, all I have to do is find an unguarded opening in the boundary wall and scale it. One small jump and Philadelphia is mine again to explore.

But just as I'm about to disappear into the shadows of the trees planted along the boundary wall, a viselike grip closes on my arm. I whirl to find Dima looming behind me, jaw tight with anger.

"Where are you going?" he demands, yanking me against his chest. His eyes blaze in the moonlight.

Panic surges through me as I fumble for an explanation, but words fail me. How can he be so quiet when he moves?

"Answer me, Lara," he demands, his voice low and dangerous, sending shivers down my spine.

"I…I just needed some fresh air," I lie, trying to sound casual despite the trembling in my voice.

"Really?" He crosses his arms over his broad chest and raises an eyebrow. "Then why didn’t you walk out through the front door? I was watching you, and you didn’t look too innocent, Lara.”

“W…watching me?” I ask, feeling angry even though I’m the one who made a mistake.

“On the CCTV,” he says, nonchalantly.

Suddenly, I find myself even angrier. “And here I thought I had some freedom,” I hiss.

He frowns and grabs my arm, glaring down at me. “You have all the freedom to do whatever it is you wish. I got a notification alert that the servant quarter door had been opened. It’s your first night here, and I don’t want any intruders. I checked and saw it’s you, and that’s that. I wasn’tspyingon you.”

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