Page 10 of Forcibly Sold to the Bratva
We drive in some more silence for a while. I glance at her occasionally, watching as she stares out the window, her face contorted with fear and confusion.
“My brothers will find me,” she says finally. “And when they do—”
“That’s the plan,” I interrupt. “I want them to find you. That’s the whole point.”
She turns to look at me, fresh horror on her face. “You’re using me to get to them.”
“Like your brothers didn’t do the same to my family?”
“I don’t even know your family!” she screams, a fresh wave of tears falling down her face.
We soon reach the outskirts where my house is. We approach the large iron gates of my driveway, and her eyes widen at the sight of the armed men stationed along the perimeter.
“This isn’t happening,” she whispers, as the house comes into view, with all its majestic beauty. “This can’t be real.”
But it is real. And I realize this night couldn’t get any better.
Chapter 4 - Arina
We’re now inside his house, if one can even call this place a house. I rub my wrists, still raw from the handcuffs he removed once he brought me in here, and take a look around the mansion. These ceilings are the tallest I’ve ever seen, and they’re all fluted and paneled and gilded with chandeliers that drip like diamonds.
It’s bigger than anything I’ve ever seen, and that scares me. I think back to when I told Ilariy my brothers would go to the cops. What was I thinking? This man has his own private army standing outside, guns and all. Is that even legal? Then again, I doubt the police are much of a threat to this man. He probably has friends among the force. He probably rubs shoulders with politicians.
What the hell does he want from me?
My whole life, I’ve lived in beautiful penthouses, and that’s been my benchmark for being rich. Now, I realize that wealth has no bounds. My eyes sweep across his living room, and I nearly gape when I see an original Monet on his wall. I read about this piece in the paper. It was auctioned off for an audacious amount—like twenty million dollars or something.
This man, whoever he is, is dangerous, rich, and powerful. And I happen to be married to him.
To say my heart races and knees tremble doesn’t even cover the fear coursing through me. I’m so very afraid that I freeze, not knowing what to do with myself.
Or him.
He walks toward me, and I feel like he’ll open his jaws and swallow me whole. That’s how petrified I am. He’s obviouslymistaken me for someone else. The question is, how do I convince him of that simple truth?
“Like what you see, princess?” he asks, and I snap my eyes to meet his.
“I told you already. Don’t call me that,” I say without thinking, and his strong, powerful jaw twitches. I immediately regret my words. I’m at his mercy, and I have to remind myself that making this man angry is a spectacularly bad idea.
But there’s something about him that makes me snap like I have verbal diarrhea or something. He kidnapped me and forced me to marry him. Can anyone blame me?
He motions toward a chair. “Would you like to sit?”
“No.” I shake my head defiantly.
His jaw twitches again, and he shrugs. “Fine. Be obstinate.”
“I’m not being obstinate!” I snarl back.
“All I’m saying is, you’ve had a long day, and you must be tired. Make yourself at home,” he says, calmly now.
For some reason, that only infuriates me further. “This is NOT my home! I don’t intend to stay here much longer, thanks.”
He steps closer, but for some reason, I no longer cower. I stand firm and look up at him, my arms crossed in front of my chest. I cock an eyebrow in his direction, and he looks into my eyes and smiles. For the first time, I notice just how gorgeous that dimple is.What a waste of such good looks on a man this ridiculous,I think to myself.
“This is your house because you’re now my wife. Congratulations. You can try leaving, but you won’t get toofar. I’ve got men everywhere,” he says with that devilish smile, almost like he’s enjoying this.
“I’d rather be dead than your wife,” I bite back.
