She glares at me, that fiery stare burning into me.

“What?” she snarls. Fuck. She’s sexy when she’s angry.

My jaw clenches tightly. I’m doing the right thing. For my family. That’s all I need to keep reminding myself of.

“Ok, you have a choice. You can behave, stop breaking things, and have free access to the entire house—or—you can carry on behaving exactly as you are now and I will simply lock you in one room and you can create as much havoc as you want in that space. So, what will it be? The entire house or one room?”

“What about if you just—“

“Raisa. Make your choice,” I demand. I am not willing to discuss anything else at this point.

“Please don’t lock me in a room,” She says softly.

“Fine. There’s food in the kitchen. Ask if you need anything. I’ll be around. I have double security so honestly, don’t even bother trying to escape. You won’t make it far and all you’ll end up doing is pissing me off. You don’t want to piss me off.”

I stare at her, waiting for a response, but all she does is nod tightly.

I know she is going to try something else. There is no way she would give up that easily. But I’m not worried. She really has nowhere to go.

I turn away from her, giving her the space she needs to calm down and process the situation she is in. I get it. She’s angry. She is obviously upset. But it is what it is. She will just have to accept it.

I head downstairs with far too many thoughts running through my mind.

Tomorrow afternoon, the priest will be here and we will be married. After that, everything changes. I’ll inform my brothers of my solution to our problems and then we can make contact with her brothers and inform them that they have no choice but to ally and stop their shitstorm before they end up doing any real damage.

It’s their own fault that it came to this. If they had approached us when they first arrived, we could have had a discussion—but they chose a different path—forcing me to choose this.

Downstairs, in the kitchen, the chef has left dinner in the oven for me. I pull the dish out. Lamb shanks on a bed of roastedbutternut with creamed spinach. I hope Raisa isn’t vegetarian or some shit like that because then she is going to hate living here.

I dish up two plates. One for myself and one for Raisa. It’s late, I don’t know if she had dinner before she went to the club—but at least if she does come looking for food in the night there will be some ready here for her.

I grab a pen from the kitchen draw and scribble a note on a serviette, leaving it on the glass food dome I place over her plate.

Raisa, this is for you. Otherwise—help yourself to anything in the kitchen.

Again, I feel a heavy pang of guilt. It doesn’t feel right—holding her here against her will. I really like her. She doesn’t deserve this and what’s worse is that I feel a kinship towards her because she is trying so desperately to get out of the mafia world that she is studying behind her brothers' backs. She is fighting for her own life—not one that her family chose for her.

It really sucks that she got stuck with the raw end of this deal.

I eat my food downstairs in the dining room. Outside I see the new guards being shown the property by Marcus. Good. When I go to bed in a bit, I can rest easily knowing that there is no way for her to get out.

She can try.

I just hope she stops breaking things because then I will have to lock her up in the guest bedroom. I don’t want to be forced to do that.

I already feel bad enough as it is.

When my food is finished, I carry my empty plate back through to the kitchen and leave it for the housekeeper to deal with tomorrow.

I head upstairs and check in on Raisa who has actually fallen asleep in the guest room. Thank fuck for that.

She is lying on top of the blankets, curled in a ball, with her short black dress drifting up over her ass.

I don’t want to look, but it’s impossible.

She is gorgeous. Her body is gorgeous and there is nothing about her that I don’t find attractive.

Somehow—she is exactly my type.