Page 28 of The Bratva's Sold Bride

So much for marital bliss.

Chapter 17 - Olivia

After the incident in the jungle, Dima gave me my space, which was good for both of us, because I was in no mood. It was too much like whiplash, going from being enamored by his kisses to realizing all over again just how much of a prisoner I really was. It still pissed me off whenever I thought about him dragging me from the restaurant in town at the mere mention of another American passing through.

So what? According to Dima himself, the odds of anyone knowing we were down here were infinitesimally small, but heaven forbid I might get a chance to speak to someone who could help me. He knew I barely spoke a word of Spanish, so it was perfectly safe to be surrounded by the local townspeople, because I couldn’t beseech them to get me away from him.

Well, I had a remedy for that. I had been hanging out with the gardening crew, doing small jobs like pulling weeds, smoothing out areas meant for landscaping, and planting the new flowers and shrubs that arrived every day to go around the pool. I liked the work and was grateful to have something to do to keep from gravitating toward Dima’s side.

Even though he infuriated me, he had also awakened a beast in me that needed to go back to sleep before I got in over my head. Much to my chagrin, Dima was keeping busy with his own things, barely paying any attention to me at all.

Which was fine. Except he seemed a little worried about something, and while I was curious, my pride wouldn’t allow me to ask if anything was wrong. Just like I wouldn’t ask help from Brooke if I was given the chance. She was my friend, but she was also a Bratva wife through and through, standing behind Max completely.

I was on my own and would find a way out on my own, then put the Bratva behind me forever. Which was where my newfound love of gardening came in. It was a nightmare of frustration not being able to speak to anyone, not just out of self-preservation but out of loneliness. I flat out refused to cozy up to any of the guards Dima had lurking everywhere, because I knew what side their bread was buttered on. They would be the last people I’d turn to for anything.

The gardeners were friendly and let me practice my Spanish, patiently correcting me and teaching new words. Sure, a lot of the words had to do with plants, but I was slowly building up a vocabulary. It was only a matter of time before I could ask someone in town for help. How I’d slip away from Dima or his guards was another hurdle, but one step at a time.

It was on the fourth day of storminess between us, and I was taking a break from digging a new flowerbed and writing out the tenses of a few new verbs to offer to one of the guys for grading, when a long shadow fell across my notebook.

It wasn’t any secret that I had been studying, because Dima didn’t know my reasons behind it, so I calmly put my pen down and gave him a neutral look. He’d told me he would have rather had a death glare than blandly agreeing to whatever he said, so I’d been careful not to give him what he wanted.

He crouched beside my lounge chair and handed me a flower hidden behind his back. I didn’t move to take it.

“Did you pilfer this from one of my new beds?” I asked.

He raised a brow at me as a flicker of a smile lifted his lips. “I miss you,” he admitted, causing a twinge in my chest that I didn’t care for.

When I still didn’t say anything, he pulled a small blue box out of his back pocket and snapped it open. Inside was astunning diamond ring. The main stone was at least the size of my thumbnail, and surrounded by smaller diamonds that nearly blinded me as they sparkled in the sunlight. It was breathtaking.

It was also a symbol of ownership. It marked me as Dima’s possession, no more than a receipt for the purchase he’d made.

And then there was the look on his face, so hopeful I’d wear it. Well, what choice did I have? Holding out my hand, he slid it on my finger, and it was a perfect fit.

“My hands are dirty,” I said.

“Your hands are beautiful,” he replied, taking it and kissing my knuckles above the ring. “How about a trip into town?”

I didn’t snatch my hand back for some reason, but gave him an incredulous look. “What about the big, bad American?”

“He had nothing to do with us, but I won’t apologize for being overly cautious about your safety. Come on, there’s a new dress waiting upstairs that would be perfect for dancing.”

After a brief inner battle, I relented and went upstairs to change. It was exhausting to be pissed off all the time. Getting into town again would also give me a chance to scope out the area and see if anyone might be able to be bribed to get me out of here and, well, just have a good time.

The new dress was bright blue and looked good with my new tan, and Dima was right; the swingy skirt would be perfect for dancing.

Our first stop was the market to place a grocery order, then we headed to the restaurant, where I ordered for both of us in my fumbling Spanish. My cheeks burned under Dima’s proudgaze, and he even unwittingly helped me by continuing to speak with me in a slow, easy cadence.

After lunch, we wandered down the main shopping street. I was friendly with everyone, speaking as much as I could, always mindful that anyone might be the person to help me slip away. Yes, I had my eyes on my freedom at all times, but I was also having a blast. Constantly being pissed off really did take it out of me, and I’d been working my fingers to the bone with the landscapers.

In the town square, a band was setting up and we waited with the crowd, sipping on the refreshing local beer until they got started. Everyone immediately started dancing, and Dima and I were swept up in the excitement.

“What do you think?” he shouted over the music as he pulled me close to him.

A moment later, I was swinging away, laughing when I was faced with a new partner. But that meant Dima also had a different partner, and this one happened to be a very busty, glossy-haired woman a few years younger than him, with a proprietary look in her eyes.

Dima caught me staring and laughed, ducking away from his señorita and reaching for me across the other raucous dancers. A moment later, I was back in his arms and laughing with him.

Why not just pretend I was on vacation for a little while? When was the last time I had one? My mother had still been alive; that was when. The sun had fallen below the mountains, and street lamps winked on, along with lanterns that crisscrossed the square. The colorful little village looked magical in the soft glow of evening light.

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