Page 40 of Forced Prisoner By the Bratva

I got out of bed, my feet resting on the cool marble floor, my mind occupied with nothing but thoughts of Tessa. I had tried to pretend like none of this bothered me, especially since I didn't do anything wrong. But the truth was, the situation was more unsettling than I cared to admit.

It was like I was starting to care too much, and that was a problem. Tessa had unlocked the emotional part of me, and I hated the feeling that came with it. I couldn't bring myself to focus on anything but her. Why was that?

What did she do to me? Why couldn't I get her out of my mind?

I paced around the room, ruffling my hair, and felt the weight of my frustration as I considered what to do. This distance, this silence, and the obvious misunderstanding were slowly driving me nuts.

Why was she so difficult? Why wouldn't she just listen?

This whole situation proved one thing to me: I'd grown too attached to her. And it wasn't just about the sex. It was something more, something deeper. I was connected to her in ways that I hadn't fully understood yet.

For a man who'd closed himself off from feeling anything for anyone for a long while, these emotions had proven to be exasperatingly difficult to handle.

I needed to take my mind off all of this, and the best way to do that was to immerse myself in work. I walked over to the bathroom, refreshed myself, put on a suit and tie, and then headed out.

While gliding through the hallway, my shoes clicked against the floor, and my eyes drifted to the door on my right. It was slightly ajar, the room’s soft lights seeping through the gap, indicating that she was awake.

I stopped in my tracks, weighing my options: to go in or just head straight to work. As much as I wanted to ignore the urge to speak with her, I simply couldn't. Besides, I needed to set my gaze on her, to look into those amazing dark eyes of hers.

I heaved a sigh and walked toward her room, my hand extending to gently push the door open.

She had her back to me, her hands parting the window curtains. As she turned to face me, her breath caught in her throat, and she brought her hand to her chest with a look of shock. Her face twisted into a frown, and her eyes furrowed with faint creases between them.

At first, she was shocked by my sudden appearance—the way she had been that night in the kitchen. Then, within seconds, her shock turned into anger. Tessa hated that I had snuck up on her and scared her. Additionally, she clearly wasn't ready to talk to me, which was why she was upset about my arrival.

“I told you not to do that again,” she said, her voice cold and flat, referring to my sudden appearance.

Tessa moved away from the window and headed toward the wardrobe, ignoring my presence.

“We need to talk,” I said, following behind her.

“No, we don't,” she replied without turning to look at me.

I grabbed her wrist and spun her around, her front side clasped against mine. We stared into each other's eyes, and in hers, all I saw was pain and anger.

Her signature scent invaded my senses, and her labored breaths brushed against my skin in such close proximity. She held my gaze, anger simmering beneath the surface.

“You misunderstood,” I said, breaking the deafening silence between us.

Her expression darkened, and with a single motion, she squirmed out of my grip, her jaw tightening. “Does it matter?” she asked with a cold, nonchalant voice. “You’re Erik Tarasov, right? The man who gets to fuck whoever he wants?” A dismissive scoff escaped her lips.

“You're getting this all wrong,” I said, struggling to maintain my composure.

“No,you'rethe one who's getting it all wrong, thinking you can sleep around with whoever the fuck you want, and I can't do the same.” The words tumbled out of her in a rush, her voice dripping with venom and disdain.

I balled my hands into fists, my jaw clenching at the nasty sting of her cold, harsh words. She'd spat her poison to get to me, to get under my skin, and although I knew this to be true, it still affected me, nonetheless. The thought of her with another man made my blood boil and deepened the scowl on my face.

“You’re my wife, and you will do no such thing,” I said, my voice low and malicious, my expression dark.

“Did you remember you were my husband when you did it? When she had her hands all over you?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow with an accusing look on her face. “Maybe I should do the same, don't you think?” She folded her arms across her chest.

My scowl deepened, anger building up within me as I drew closer to her, my steps slow and deliberate. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Or else what?” she questioned, her tone challenging, a glint of defiance flashing in her eyes. “What're you gonna do, Erik?”

Her boldness and spunk were admirable, but the disrespect crawled under my skin, fueling my rage. I held her gaze, my jaw tightening in an attempt to control my anger.

The air was thick with tension, filled only with the sounds of our faint, labored breaths, until a call broke the silence. I hesitated for a moment before making eye contact with her and glancing at my lit screen. It was work. My attention was needed at the office, so I didn't bother taking the call. I was done here anyway.

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