Page 14 of Brutal Bratva King

Suddenly, a realization hits me.

This isn’t my room. This ishis room.

“Rodion, this isn’t funny. Where ismy room?” I insist, standing my ground.

“Honey, this is your room. We’re married. We sleep in the same bed.”

“You promised to honor your agreement!” I shout angrily.

“And what exactly where the terms of our agreement? The only thing I remember agreeing to was that you would move in with me.”

I open my mouth to argue and then realize that is the only thing we really argued and agreed about.

I stare from him to the bed.

“I need my own room,” I whimper nervously.

“Good luck with that. There is only one bedroom in this place. You can sleep in the office if you like—or the gym? Or maybe the library or the sunroom?”

“You can’t be serious. You don’t have a single other room set up in this entire place?” I stammer in disbelief.

“Why would I? I don’t need more than one room. The rest of the house serves its own purpose.”

He tugs his shirt off his shoulders and my eyes trace over his perfectly defined abs. Fuck. He’s fucking gorgeous.

My breathing gets heavier and I shut my eyes to block him from my vision just as he starts to tug his belt loose.

I don’t want to be turned on by him. I don’t want to sleep in the same bed as him. And I am most certainly not going to have sex with him.

Chapter 5 - Rodion

I carry on undressing, getting ready for bed while Anya stands there glaring at me with fire in her eyes.

I chuckle to myself, knowing that she has no choice but to share the bed with me. She is my wife, after all. I expect certain things from her. Why the hell is she even arguing with me about this?

She hasn’t even started to undress. She’s standing there looking incredibly uncomfortable and exhausted.

She looks beautiful.

Far too beautiful for words.

Fuck, I want her. I have wanted her for far too long, but when I saw her walking down the aisle towards me, that need to have her exploded and expanded by thousands.

She is looking from me to the bed and back to me again.

She shakes her head and turns her back on me.

That’s when my amusement really kicks in.

Anya is trying to get out of the wedding dress on her own, but it is not going to work. The intricate lace at the back of the dress is hooked and tied beyond her reach and all she is doing by randomly tugging blindly at things is making a knot.

I don’t say anything. I strip down to nothing, slip into some sweatpants, and just watch.

“Ugh!” she cries out, stomping her foot.

“Rodion—“ she says, full of ego and regret, “Can you please help me undo this stupid thing?”

“Of course, my wife. I would be happy to help.” The sneer on my lips does not go unnoticed by her and I know I’m pushing her to the edge of anger.

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