Page 37 of The Bratva's Hunted Bride
“You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself. Youarea monster. You are a cruel, cold-hearted, selfish asshole. Let me out of this car right now. I never want to see you again.” The words spill from me in a flurry of panic and tears.
He carries on driving, and he keeps his arm locking me down, waiting for me to stop my tantrum before he calmly says. “Don’t you get it, Talia? You belong to me now. I’ll never let you leave. You’re mine.”
My mouth snaps closed. I blink in shock. What in the world does that mean?
It’s the calm in his voice. The self-assured confidence that silences me. It’s terrifying how I can’t hear even the smallest flicker of doubt in his words.
My body goes limp. I can’t tear my eyes off him.
“Yours?” I stammer. “Ibelongto you?” I murmur, trying to make sense of what he’s saying, as if I’m his tool to use forever? His pet? His bargaining chip against his enemies?
“If you try to jump from this car again, I will be forced to take more extreme measures, for your own safety and the baby’s,” he warns me.
I blink, then nod, pressing my lips together. My thoughts are racing, but at least the crazy notion of leaping from the car has disappeared. I don’t know what I was thinking.
He removes his arm from me, returning his hand to the steering wheel.
What did he mean? I’m his? I belong to him?
I study his face, narrowing my gaze as my heart beats faster. I can’t read anything in his expression, and he doesn’t glance in my direction as he drives calmly through the night toward his mansion.
Chapter 17 - Timofey
I expected the backlash after I announced my claim over Talia at the party. And the news has spread as fast as I thought it would. Any kind of union between a Popov and an Abashin would be a hot topic on the street. Unheard of. Unexpected.
Her brothers have made no attempt to contact me. I assume they’re in meetings amongst themselves, calculating, discussing, trying to figure out their next move and their reactions.
In the meantime, I have my own meetings to attend, and I’m fully aware that my allies expect an explanation. Judging by the call I had with Rigor Milov this morning, it’s clear that no one is happy.
Both the Milovs and Shevchenkos are present, sitting at the glass boardroom table, their faces pulled tight with bitter resentment.
This meeting was called abruptly, first thing this morning, after the party the night before. And clearly, they’re pissed off, because every single one of the brothers from both families are present.
Rigor, Roman, Viktor, and Anton all sit on the left side of the table.
Jaroslav, Georgy, Bardil, and Zahar are on the right. And every single one of them is glaring at me. My own brothers, Oleg and Diomid, sit with their jaw muscles taut and their mouths set in firm, angry lines. They’re disappointed in me. They don’t need to say anything for me to understand that. But at the same time, their silence is a form of support. They aren’t letting our allies know that I didn’t tell them anything either. For the moment,I’m grateful that Matvey isn’t here as well. I have enough to deal with.
“What the fuck gives you the right to make a move like that without discussing it with us?” Jaroslav snarls, his fist clenched on the table in front of him.
“Your arrogance knows no limits, Timofey. You got a rival pregnant? A Popov. You paraded her around publicly at a party without even warning us? This affects everything.” Viktor snaps, his shoulders set in square defiance and his eyes piercing into me. “How do I answer the questions pouring in from our other alliances?”
I cock my head to the side, leaning back in my chair, an air of controlled calm around me, hiding the fact that my heart is racing.
I have to make them believe this was all a business move, that it had nothing to do with my obsession with Talia. Especially my own brothers. If they knew, if they caught scent of my thoughts—they’ve seen it before, how far I’m willing to go when I lock onto a desire.
I can’t risk them knowing the truth and trying to separate her from me. They’ve done it in the past—but this time, this time I’ll tear the world apart to keep her at my side. This time it’s different.
“Anyone with half a brain could calculate the benefits of this situation in less than a heartbeat,” I say, void of emotion.
“So, you’re implying that our disapproval of you making massive plans behind our backs makes us stupid? Because we don’t like the fact that you went ahead and did this on your own? We have less than half a brain because we’re demanding an explanation?” Zakhar stands up, leaning forward with his knuckles pressed against the table.
“That’s not exactly what I said,” I muse.
Oleg throws me a warning glance, and I wipe the hint of a smile from my face.
I clear my throat, tilting my head back and sighing. I need to play nice. I need to find a good enough explanation for all of this. One that doesn’t seem personal to me. “I’m just saying that this move benefits all of us. I didn’t think I would have to explain that undermining the Popov family is valuable for us. For our business. Surely you can see the strength of our current position.”
“The Bratva system is a delicate balance. The Popovs are rivals to everyone at this table, yet you’ve brought one of them into your home and tied her inescapably to yourself. Our business, our other allies, they’ll start questioning where our allegiance lies.” Viktor says, his lips curling back in anger.
