Page 30 of Forcibly Sold to the Bratva
His hand grazes the back of my hand with his, and I swear time stops still.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I tell him. “The private dinner. Taking me out to town. After I ran, you could have locked me away.”
What I’m asking is why? Why isn’t he angry?
He looks out at the water again, his jaw tight. “I didn’t want to break you any further. I know the toll this has taken on you.”
His words, his voice, make my chest tight. It’s not out of pity for him. But rather, how complicated this whole thing is. When he kidnapped me, I was so intent on hating him, but day by day, it’s getting harder to do that.
In this moment, with the soft ocean breeze kissing our cheeks, it’s almost easy to forget that this isn’t just any other date. He isn’t just any other man.
I force myself to break eye contact as a well of emotions overpowers me, the memories rushing back. He kidnapped me, forced me to marry him. I was chased by dangerous men, and he won’t tell me who they were. He’s afraid of allowing me out of his sight, claiming it’s for my protection. Why?
He hates my brothers. They owe him. What, exactly?
Suddenly, like a poison, these thoughts begin to dampen my mood, my spirit. “We should head back,” I say, and try to smile, but it feels forced. He frowns, as though he sees me struggling, but doesn’t say a word.
He simply nods and leads me back to the table to get the check, so we can head back to our suite.
***
We walk back to our room in silence. I don’t bother questioning him on the way because at every turn, we comeacross people wandering about, and the suite seems to be a safer space.
But the moment we enter the suite and I see Ilariy shake off his jacket and head into his room, I realize what he’s doing.
He knows I have questions, and he’s deflecting from the conversation. I can already predict how he’ll claim to be tired.
Not today, Arina, he’ll say. Tomorrow.
He said that yesterday.
For the briefest moment, fear grips me. What the hell am I doing here? I should run for my life. I should call my brothers. He’s powerful and rich, and whatever he’s up to, he doesn’t want me to know.
Tonight wasn’t a date. He might be my lawful husband, but there is nothing lawful about the way he went about it.
He kidnapped me, and I need to escape.
I glance toward the door. He has my phone, but I could use the hotel phone to call for help once I make it to the lobby. Or if there’s a chance I might get caught in the lobby, it might be safer for me to try to slip out of the premises and find the American embassy. Once I explain my situation...
“Don’t even think about it,” Ilariy says suddenly, appearing at the doorway to his room.
I jerk my gaze back to him and look surprised.
“What?” I ask innocently.
“You’re planning to run again. I can see it in your eyes.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.
“Seriously?” he asks in a way that screams you’ve got candy in your hand and claim you didn’t take it. “You’re still standing by the door.”
“My feet hurt,” I protest, refusing to be caught in the act he’s accusing me of doing.
“Then take off your heels,” he snorts and goes back into his bedroom.
“Fine!” I yell behind him, angry that he could read my thoughts so well, infuriated by how amused he looked when he declared my intentions.
I kick off my heels and storm into his room, eager to wipe that smug, know-it-all expression off his face.
