Page 26 of The Bratva's Innocent Sold Bride
“You can see a pulse somewhere?”
She snickered, plugging it in, opening it up, and pressing the power button with a look of almost rapturous concentration on her face. When it wouldn’t turn on, she tapped away at the keys anyway, telling me it had power, just wasn’t accessing its programs.
I patted the dog, who looked much healthier after only a few days of good food and constant pampering. His room was decked out with toys, a plush bed, and he ate his food off a pedestal in the kitchen. He didn’t whine anymore, and Isuspected CJ snuck him into her room at night, which I didn’t approve of, but I wasn’t about to take that away from her, too.
When I looked up from Artem, the computer was on and running, the screen showing all my familiar icons.
“You’re a miracle worker,” I said, dropping a kiss on her forehead.
She blushed, shrugging away my thanks. “It was nothing big.”
“Well, I didn’t have a clue what was wrong.”
Her head tilted to the side. “You know my degree is in computer science, right? I shouldn’t be wasting it.”
Ah, so she wasn’t as content as she appeared. I could see the fight barreling toward me like a train that had tripped its tracks and was powerless to stop it or get out of its way. “You just used it,” I said.
With a huff, she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Anyone even slightly literate in computers could have dealt with that minor problem.”
“Ouch,” I said. “Now you know my greatest weakness.” It was a lie. She was my greatest weakness.
“I’m only saying that I shouldn’t be stuck here all day with nothing to do but play with Artem and take him for walks.” She leaned down to scruff him behind the ears as if she was sorry he wasn’t enough for her. “I’ve already ordered the first batch of furniture, and even when it arrives, the movers will do the bulk of that work. You’re never home to look after, so don’t start with the good wife routine.”
Her single-minded desire to work and my inability to let her at the moment chafed worse than nettles, and her words hurt more than I cared to admit.
“Then I’ll just have to be home more,” I said, trying to tease away the argument.
“Oh, don’t do me any favors, please,” she said. “At least not that one.”
My blood was beginning to heat up. “Do you know how many women would love to be in your position?” I asked.
Hadn’t I given her everything she wanted? She was free to come and go as she pleased as long as she had security to protect her, she had the damn dog, and complete access to my bank card.
“Then find one of them to be your forced bride,” she answered, turning away. “I’ve never been pampered, and I never wanted to be. It doesn’t suit me.”
“CJ,” I said, my blood boiling, but continuing to try to salvage the situation. “The reason you can’t have a job outside the home—”
“It's because you’re old-fashioned and backward,” she interrupted, eyes flaring and green as fine jade.
Now I no longer wanted to reason with her. Crossing my own arms in front of me, I glared down at her. “If you don’t have enough to do, you can start your cleaning schedule again.”
She snapped her fingers at the dog, who was beginning to cower under our raised voices, and stormed out. “Fine. You just proved my point, by the way.”
Not sure what to do, the dog hedged his bets and slunk away after her. Furious, I sat down, completely forgetting why I wanted to work on my computer in the first place.
Was it worth it? I could easily return her to her father. Taurus Ingenuity was still on life support, but my advisors assured me it could be turned around if that was what I wanted.Gordon was already ruined; I should let his hard-headed daughter torment him.
There was no way I was going to do that. Even through my anger at her for not letting me explain. Even wanting to shake her as much as I wanted to kiss her, giving her up was the last thing I would do.
Chapter 17 - CJ
The dig Mat threw at me about starting the chore schedule was no idle threat. When I woke up the next morning, the house staff had once again been sent away on vacation, and a note outlining what I should do was taped to Artem’s dog food bag in the pantry.
I wasn’t even furious. It was better this way. The situation between us was starting to blur after he heroically rescued all those helpless dogs. I should never have started thinking he was anything other than a tyrant.
Still, I was a tiny bit sad. Not about the cleaning. It was something to do. But about the fact that he’d ordered me to do it and completely shut down a conversation about me getting my job back, or getting another job altogether. I wasn’t lying about it being a sorry waste of my degree. I had slaved for top grades and high test scores so I could get into Stanford on a scholarship. Of course, my father refused to let me take it from someone who needed it and paid, but it was important to me that I get accepted that way.
For the next few days, I didn’t see him at all, and only knew he was home by the racket he made coming up the stairs. His room was only a few doors down from mine, and if he was trying to get my attention and have me come talk to him, he could keep trying.
