Page 27 of The Bratva King's Auctioned Bride

I found her sitting at the desk near the window of our room, twiddling her thumbs and staring at the trees swaying in the breeze outside. Some papers rested under her elbows, completely ignored. Just like she ignored me when I headed into the closet and selected a dress at random. She looked hotter than hell in anything, so it hardly mattered which one.

“Put this on,” I said, holding it up for her to see. “I’m sick of wasting Rome.”

She barely glanced at me before telling me where to go. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't one of the city’s famous hotspots. “Enjoy the nightlife,” she snipped. “On your own.”

I continued staring at her until she looked my way, and our eyes met. Mine meant business.

“This isn’t negotiable. We’re having some fun, damn it.”

My tone was light, but the look I gave her seemed to tell her to take the dress and get ready. Which she did. Good, we were finally on the same page, even if the scowl she gave me as she dragged her feet into the bathroom was harsh enough to peel my skin off. Well, I’d just have to show her I was right about this. Wewouldhave a good time.

My first instinct was to take her to the most exclusive club in the city. I wasn’t used to going to places I didn’t have a stake in, but rolling up in the right car, wearing the right watch, and flashing enough euros would get us the VIP treatment I was used to.

The problem was that Mila was used to it as well, and something like that wouldn’t impress her. She’d grown up with as much wealth as I had obtained over the years and was used to people fawning all over her.

What did she like? What would make her show me that beautiful smile I’d gone too long without? It was hard to get to know someone who refused to speak to you. But I had her messages and a watchful eye.

She loved fine things, especially clothes. I’d noticed her examining the seams of the new outfits I ordered in for her and running her fingers over the fabrics with appreciation. And the girl loved to eat. I could work with that. While she was getting ready, I went downstairs and found one of the local guards and began grilling him on places to go.

Of course, the first thing he said was the popular club I’d already discarded. “No, something to do with style or fashion,” I said impatiently.

He gave me a look that said I was out of my mind if I thought he knew anything about that. “I can call my wife,” he suggested. “If it’s that important.”

“It’s incredibly important. Get her on the phone right now.”

Between her and the chef who came in every other day to prepare meals for us, I ended up with a plan that I felt confident Mila would enjoy. It was crazy how much I was hoping she would.

Now, to put it to the test and see if I could get the light back in my wife’s eyes. And maybe something more.

Chapter 20 - Mila

After managing to stay as far away as possible from Arkadi, which wasn’t far, I spent the last few days biding my time, keeping my mouth shut, and trying to come up with a plan. There wasn’t a feasible way to get out from under his eagle eyes and leave the property, and even with the work he was letting me do, I was growing restless.

More than restless. I slept in his bed at night because I didn’t dare risk putting my foot down. I stayed curled up at the very edge because there wasn’t much choice otherwise. Despite my talkative nature and the urge to tell him where to go, I would have rather maintained my stony silence than bring on a fight that wouldn’t end in my favor.

Oh, I might have ended up enjoying it, but that was something else I was afraid of, and it wouldn’t help me out of this.

It was a few days after the wine cellar incident that kept creeping into my memory, and I was pretending to do some work that Arkadi had deigned to give me. Without access to a computer or a phone, there wasn’t much I could do except read over the papers and scribble down my ideas or opinions. That usually took all of half an hour, and then I was left with nothing to do but stew about my predicament or lapse into daydreams. One was futile since I was surrounded by guards and a very stubborn husband. The other was dangerous.

Arkadi came into the bedroom where I was pretending to work, and we both ignored each other. Or at least, I tried to ignore him. My senses were instantly on high alert the moment he entered the room, the crisp scent of his cologne finding mynostrils and making me quietly take a deep breath. On top of everything, he had to smell good, the jerk.

Speaking of being a jerk, within minutes, he was ordering me to put on a dress he picked out, demanding to go out.

Finally, I had the perfect excuse to tell him to go to hell.

I gave him my best scowl as I flatly refused his “offer” of a night on the town. No, thank you, not interested at all. Wow, that felt great. Just lashing out at him with rude words had invigorated me after keeping my lips zipped for so long. I wasn’t made for stony silence, and was used to being surrounded by people I could share thoughts and ideas with.

In LA, I lived alone, but I left my apartment first thing every morning and didn’t return until late at night, usually falling into bed exhausted after a long day at work. At the boutique, I had customers, my employees, and the talented designers I met with to entice them to sell their wares to me.

Even when I lost the shop and depression hit me like a tsunami, I didn’t hole up completely. I still went to diners and coffee shops and spoke with the people there, went to lunch with my friends and sisters-in-law, and saw my brothers when I could handle their sympathy.

Three days with barely any human interaction other than short grunts made me wish I hadn’t told him off so quickly. So much for getting out of the house.

Of course, there was no refusing the master so easily, and when he gave me a long, cold glare and a terrifyingly jokey threat, I scampered to the bathroom to get ready to go out. But I’d pick my own damn dress.

This could be my shot to escape. Soon enough, I’d be surrounded by friendly faces. The prospect was welcome enoughon its own, but if I kept my cool, I might be able to find someone to sneak me away from Arkadi and the crew he was sure to have tagging along behind us.

I fully expected we’d end up in the VIP section of some loud, packed nightclub, which would probably be to my advantage even though the prospect bored me to tears. I’d been going out since I got my first fake ID at sixteen, unbeknownst to all my brothers. It didn’t take long to get my fill of such places. Now, I only went to my brothers’ clubs when they had something big going on, and I was expected to show solidarity.

---