Page 30 of The Bratva's Arranged Bride

Tia didn’t say anything again and instead let out a quiet huff.

After another stretch of silence, I began, “You’ve been incredible at keeping me at arm’s length, Tia, but tell me…is it so difficult to have a decent, civilized meal with your husband?”

She flinched slightly at the words, taking a moment to mull over the slightest touch of teasing in my tone.

She likely expected me to be angry at her refusal to cooperate, but it seemed she realized the lenience I was offering her. Relaxing by a hair, Tia sat back in her chair and kept her eyes on me.

We were both aware of how unusual our circumstances were, and as easy as it would be to let my frustration get the better of me, I preferred to take a different approach, to set the stage with some levity instead.

“Maybe if you were the husband I chose,” she returned. Despite the sting in her words, a tiny flicker of satisfaction pulled on her lips.

I could’ve gotten angry…and maybe I should have, given how she still wasn’t acting like the wife I wanted her to be. But I couldn’t help myself.

The challenge was entertaining, and if she was going to make things difficult, then I might as well enjoy it where I could.

“Don’t get my hopes up too much…that stubbornness of yours is starting to make me feel special.”

Tia cocked a brow at that. “Special? You must be delusional, then.”

I grinned faintly at that, able to catch the veiled humor in her words.

Despite her refusal to give me much satisfaction, I still found a way to drink up what little she did offer me.

I hummed and leaned back in my seat, mirroring her body language. “I suppose I am…I’ll be the delusion to your stubbornness, then.”

Without showing me too much, a barely-there smile settled on her lips before she poked at the food on her plate. “At least you’re self-aware.”

That tension between us was undeniable, no matter how she tried to play it off as nothing at all. It was palpable, and it only spurred me on further.

Even if it wasn’t going quite how I envisioned it, the moment wasn’t all bad. At the very least, I could sense the temptation in her…the hint that she didn’t completely hate me.

“Self-aware…charming…and maybe nice enough to want to get to know you,” I said, leaning slightly into the table. I needed an edge, even if I couldn’t let myself go too far. “Given our situation, I figure it only makes sense for us to give it a shot, at least, to make things more bearable for both of us.”

Tia gave me a drawn-out look, almost like she was silently questioning my sincerity.

I didn’t blame her for it, but every shred of my precariously maintained patience was begging for her to at least give me something. Anything.

Though still guarded, she murmured, “You want to get to know me? And what if I tell you something you don’t want to hear?”

It wasn’t much…but it was something. And I was prepared to run with it.

“There’s no need to worry about that. Not when I don’t have any expectations,” I returned evenly, not giving her any reason to doubt me. “Share as much or as little as you’d like, but just know that I’m not one to judge.”

I was fully aware that I had no place to judge anyone…not with the path I was on.

Tia didn’t answer right away. Instead, she drank from her glass and seemed to mull over what I was offering her, deciding if she really wanted to entertain me.

Then, she let out a quiet breath and began, “In all honesty, there isn’t much to know. My dad spent most of his time running his business while my mom pretended like I didn’t exist. When I decided I didn’t want to piggyback on his success, I moved out and struggled on my own, trying to make something happen with my art. It was hard, but it was mine. And, voila…Here I am.”

I found myself hanging on her every word, more intrigued than perhaps I should’ve been by such a surface-level overview of her life.

But I couldn’t help it. In every way, she was beyond interesting to me.

“And how was the art side of things going?”

Tia shrugged, looking down at her glass. “It was fine…nothing to rave about. I sold a few paintings here and there, but I wasn’t exactly featured in galleries, and it wasn’t enough on its own to afford my rent.”

Nodding, I considered the idea. Even if that struggle was foreign to me, I could still imagine how hard that would’ve been, especially if she refused to be in Andrey’s shadow.

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