Page 29 of The Bratva's Forced Innocent Bride

Slamming into my room, I sat on the bed, then immediately popped up again to pace. The clothes I’d pilfered from Max’s drawers to go swimming in were still damp, clinging to me uncomfortably and making me shiver in the air-conditioned room. I supposed I could wrap up in a towel or the sumptuous bed sheets.

I remembered all those shopping bags and boxes piled high in the hallway earlier. Of course, I’d been too stubborn to go through them, but now that I was reduced to damp clothes that were six sizes too big or bedsheets, I considered searching them out.

Why shouldn’t I?

At that point, I didn’t even consider them gifts but reparations for what he’d put me through. What he was putting me through, because I could still feel the sense memory of his hands on my skin, his lips everywhere. My ears still rang with the feral sound of his growls as he dragged me to such heights.

Ugh, I wished I had never reached out to him for help.

With my hand on the door handle, about to go in search of all those packages, or at least something dry, I had a sudden flashback to my brief time with Luca. That night was a blur, thanks to the drug he gave me, but the memory of his ruthless,dead eyes was as clear as the door in front of me. I shuddered and shook it away. If it hadn’t been for Max, I might have still been Luca’s prisoner, suffering untold horrors, or possibly dead by now from what I’d learned about him.

Even if half of what Max had told me was true, Luca Ross was an evil, sick man who held way too much power for anyone’s good.

Then again, couldn’t the same case be made against Max? He had a lot of power he didn’t exactly wield for the betterment of humanity. He had just as much, if not more, money, plenty of power, and control issues galore for sure.

But sick and evil? As much as I couldn’t stand Max for threatening to ruin everything I’d worked for, even I couldn’t go that far. No way.

Then I remembered we hadn’t settled anything before I launched myself at him. Thinking about how he’d so calmly taunted me that he’d never touch me again made my face burn to the point I forgot my mission to seek out dry clothes. Damn it, he never actually agreed to let me go back to school when summer session began.

The fact that my body was still yearning for him even after this realization had me clenching my hands hard enough to pierce the skin on my palms. There was no way I was crying again. From a young age, I learned that it did no good and frequently made things worse. Except, when Max had seen me crying out by the pool, he’d rushed to my side, and I could have sworn there was real concern in his eyes.

Whatever. It was as if his pity or kindness or whatever I mistook that look to be was going to change the fact that I was still stuck here. In wet clothes.

I stormed into his room, where I found everything he had bought for me had already been put away. A section had been cleared in his massive walk-in closet where at least a dozen new dresses now hung. Leather sandals, a pair of running shoes, several dressy high heels, and even flip flops and fluffy slippers lined the wall underneath them. A quick inspection of the drawers and cabinets revealed several had been filled with undies and socks, t-shirts and shorts, pajamas, and workout clothes.

It was probably more clothes than I’d owned in my entire life combined, and certainly much better quality. I ran my fingers over one stunning dress made of feather-light lilac silk and another blue and green printed one. That was what I would have picked for myself if I’d been turned loose in the store with an unlimited budget. It was as if he somehow knew me so well he could choose just what I liked.

Reminding myself that I wasn’t Cinderella and this was no freaking fairy tale, I grabbed up an armload of things without paying too much attention and stormed back to the other room. Tossing everything on the bed, I hurried back to lock the door behind me, then unlocked it again.

If Max wanted to get in here badly enough, no flimsy door lock would keep him out, and I was way too conscientious to let him knock the thing down. Almost immediately I changed my mind back and twisted the lock again.

What did I care about what he destroyed? Let him tear the entire mansion down around himself.

After a shower and a change into a pink t-shirt and a new pair of ultra-soft sweatpants that probably ridiculously cost half my rent, I still wasn’t completely over my snit, but was toohungry to stay in the room sulking. I’d not only swam until I was rubbery legged, I’d had that impromptu workout with Max.

Refusing to think about that and get all worked up again, I stomped down the stairs to the kitchen. It was only satisfying to make so much noise for a second, then I realized I didn’t really want to draw Max’s attention and switched to normal walking. I wasn’t tiptoeing or trying to hide, but I wanted to make a sandwich in peace with no more distractions from that infuriatingly sexy hunk of man.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

And, of course, I ran right into him as he was coming out of his office, also seeming to be heading for the kitchen. All the wind went out of my sails. I was spent, and I kept my head down, ignoring him as we headed in the same direction. Great, just great. I could always grab a box of cereal and flee back to my room.

“This is silly,” Max said. “There’s no reason we should eat separate meals. Let me make us something nice.”

To prove I was the bigger person and not affected by him in any way, I shrugged and sat down. To my surprise, he began pulling out what looked like lamb chops and a whole slew of fresh veggies.

“You can cook?” I asked.

“I made you dinner once already,” he said, not turning around as he chopped. Fine, I didn’t mind the view of his backside, and it was less embarrassing than having him practically read my thoughts like he always seemed able to do.

“Salad,” I said. “Anyone can make a salad.”

“Well, judge for yourself in a few minutes if I can cook or not,” he said.

Shockingly, he could, and the meal was delicious. I couldn’t keep my surprise to myself, and admitted I basically lived off of instant noodles, eggs, and occasionally pizza if I had a coupon.

He made a face and put more steamed veggies on my plate. “I enjoy it, and even trained with the chef at my diner for a while. I don’t even have a cook here.”

I asked him about the chef at his restaurant, and if he had a temper like television chefs always seemed to have.

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