Page 25 of The Bratva King's Auctioned Bride

With my mouth still hanging open, I walked to the abandoned champagne bottle and drained what was left in it. The sweet bubbles did nothing to change the fact that Mila had just defied me and stormed out in a rage.

No one in my entire life had spoken to me in such a way as she just did. No one would ever dare. Part of it might have been the fact that I’d made it known she was useless to me dead, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t make her life an utter misery until I got what I wanted.

I should. I would have to anyone else who defied me like that. I shouldn’t have let her leave this room until she understood who was in charge.

And yet, I did let her. I wasn’t going to make her life utterly miserable. Right now, she was the only thing I wanted.

Chapter 18 - Mila

I stormed out of the wine cellar and through the garden. Despite the guards, I was so pissed off that I almost wanted to try another escape. If nothing else, it would annoy the crap out of Arkadi so he could be as angry as I was.

The problem was that I was more angry at myself than at him. I had screwed up so badly. It might have even been irreparable. It certainly threw a major wrench into any plan to get out of this fake, forced marriage once I was rescued. All I had to do was deny everything.

Shoving through the door leading into the house, I found my way through the kitchen. There was a fruit bowl on the counter now, piled high with apples, bananas, and oranges, and the sight of them made me remember I hadn’t had a proper meal in a while.

Arkadi had just promised me something nice, but it was too late. Reality came crashing in to make me see just how badly I’d screwed up. My cheeks burned as I remembered everything, and worse, my body tingled, yearning for more. How could I have lost it so thoroughly?

Blinded by my anger, I stubbed my toe on a barstool as I swept through the kitchen. Stopping to swear at myself, the jacket I put on—one of the only items of clothing that made it out alive after our antics—fell open. A passing housekeeper scurried away out of sight as if I were a crazy person, which I kind of was at the moment. Half-naked, rubbing my toe, and swearing like a sailor.

I was a mess, and only making things worse by blaming myself. Accidents happened. I was tipsy. Arkadi was being so darn normal and even close to charming that I let myself forgetmy situation. After all, it was pretty traumatic. Who wouldn’t want to forget?

Whatever excuse I made for completely losing my mind fell flat. There was no getting around the fact that I always found Arkadi attractive and dangerously exciting. I never would have acted on it, not when he was my brothers’ chief enemy. My enemy.

I despised him.

Didn’t I?

Yes, of course I did. He was foul, loathsome, and no amount of sparkle in his dark eyes would make me forget again. I might have been inexperienced, but I understood the effects that lust had on a person. I’d seen my brothers get twisted by women before they found their soulmates. The thing was, I had never been susceptible to it before. I was ruled by common sense, duty, and loyalty, and if all that failed, the fear of my brothers coming down on me for doing something stupid.

What happened with Arkadi in that wine cellar was something else. Something so strong I now feared it more than my brothers’ wrath or Arkadi’s unpredictable nature.

One second, he was glaring at me coldly; the next, he was toasting my success at the meeting. And it was my success. He never once butted in during my presentation. Okay, there was another excuse for my lack of control. I was thrilled that my hard work had paid off, and I wanted to celebrate. Even with Arkadi.

Anything to forget what was really going on.

I was his prisoner.

Not for long, though. If Arkadi continued to pretend everything was normal and we were some happy newlyweds, all I needed to do was stay on his good side. That meant I shouldprobably stop calling him names and maybe even apologize for blowing up.

Like hell, but still, I could start fresh. It was for my own good, because everything I thought I knew about Arkadi had been turned upside down. He was a loose cannon with a short fuse. One more cocky outburst, and it might risk throwing off enough sparks to set him off.

Somehow, I got turned around in the palatial mansion and ended up at another back door that led out to the pool. I looked longingly through the glass at the peaceful grotto. The sun was beginning to go down and cast a warm glow on the palm trees, shading the lounge chairs. The azure water rippled and sparkled in a gentle breeze. Rome was freaking hot at this time of year, and I’d worked up quite a sweat, even in the cool cellar.

Still heated from Arkadi’s touch and my jumbled emotions, a dip in the pool seemed irresistible. I hated being angry, especially at myself, but it kept rising whenever I thought about how easily I’d given in. But if I wasn’t pissed off, I might remember how wonderful it was.

I slid open the door and hurried toward the pool, already shimmying Arkadi’s jacket down my arms. As soon as I stepped off the path and into the grotto, a guard materialized.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asked in that maddeningly fake polite manner.

I would have preferred he just point his gun at me and tell me to get back inside. Instead of cowering or even pulling the coat back around me, I stared him down with all the fury that was assailing me. After a moment, he nodded and wandered off.

“That’s right,” I hollered after him. “I’m the boss’s wife, and I’m going in the pool. Anyone else out there is going to get an eyeful if they keep watching.”

Hopefully, that scared them off, but if not, I didn’t care. Shrugging the jacket off, I dove in, letting the cool water envelop me. There was probably a bathing suit upstairs with all the other beautiful clothes lining one side of the master bedroom closet, but I would have eaten nails before I risked facing Arkadi again.

Swimming a few laps was just what I needed, and I pushed myself back and forth along the length of the pool until I was no longer spitting fire. When I finally resurfaced to take a break, I came face to face with a pair of legs dangling in front of me. Treading water, I wiped the drops from my eyes to see Arkadi sitting cooly on the edge, watching me with a look that had me gliding away from him.

Was I scared of what was in those dark eyes or my reaction to him? He wore swim trunks and was shirtless. Since I’d already torn his shirt open not so long ago, I was well aware of the rippling eight-pack he sported, but now I was also faced with the broad shoulders and bulging biceps. The man was ripped.

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