Page 17 of The Bratva's Virgin Bride

“Hello?” I answer.

“Thank God you answered. Are you okay?”

“Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Viktor is being very accommodating.”

“I'm so sorry he forced you to marry him,” Gwen says. “I wasn't sure how to even approach the subject.”

“It's fine. His argument made sense. I don't want to be a victim for the rest of my life,” I say quietly. I want her to think that everything is fine, even if it isn't. Maybe she'll believe I'm fine if I'm happy with Viktor's decision to make me marry him.

“So you're okay with it?” Gwen asks skeptically.

“He presented his argument, and I agreed with him,” I say calmly. I try to keep the quiver out of my voice. “And he has an awesome place. I'm going to miss seeing you every day, but we can meet up for lunch or whatever.”

“Yeah, okay. Well, I'll be back in a few days, so if anything happens, or he upsets you, just go back to our place and we'll take it from there,” Gwen says.

“I'm fine,” I reiterate. “Please don't stress about me. Viktor is taking great care of me. He isn't bothering me and he's keeping to himself.”

“Okay, but we'll speak in a few days, anyway. I love you,” she says gently.

“Love you too,” I say before hanging up.

I wander back into the house and go upstairs. There are rooms every which way and I want to go into them, but I realize Viktor is probably in one of them and I'm too mad to even look at him. I go back to my bedroom and lie down on the bed, staring out the window. I have nothing to do, no study materials, and none of my shit. I guess I could try to find a swimming costume in the closet, or I could go downstairs and test out the television. I'm worried Viktor will come in though, and then expect us to have a conversation about my nightmare. I don't want to have that conversation.

I don't even realize as I drift off to sleep.

Chapter 9 - Viktor

As the days pass, I realize this is not going to be as easy as I thought it would be. Riley is skittish and afraid of me one minute and fiery with me the next. For example, on Sunday morning, I come down for breakfast, and the minute she sees me, she leaves her breakfast and coffee and goes to the living room. I walk after her to speak to her.

“You can have breakfast with me. I don't bite,” I say calmly.

“I really don't want to,” she says calmly, plopping onto the sofa. “I'll come back when you're done.”

“I'll have breakfast in my office,” I say. “I'll let Rachel know.”

She doesn't respond to that comment but instead looks up at me with a fiery gaze. “When can I go fetch my car? I need it to drive to campus.”

“You can use one of my cars,” I say coolly.

“I don't want to use your car. I want to drive my own. If you won't let me go fetch my things, at least send someone to get them. I need all my study materials from my room and my clothes as well.”

“I'll send someone to pick up your car and study materials, but the clothes are a no-go. As my wife, you need to dress the part. You have more than enough clothing upstairs to be comfortable.”

“It's not comfortable,” she says. “I don't like wearing designer things. I want my comfortable everyday clothes.”

I grin at her. “Don't be such a brat. The clothes I buy are more than comfortable. You're just not used to them.”

She crosses her arms and shakes her head. “I will get my clothes.”

“You are to go to campus and come straight home. It's for your own safety.” This is not a request.

She stands up and is a few centimeters from me. “I have a life.”

“You didn't when I picked you up. You went to campus and back to Roman's and that's it.”

“I went for lunch…”

“To my family's restaurant with Gwen where you were safe,” I point out. “Gwen isn't here at the moment, and you want to travel alone. Campus and home, I mean it.”

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