Page 22 of The Russian's Forced Bride
“I’m leaving the room for you so you can have all the space and privacy you want,” I replied, trying to push past his form, but he suddenly grabbed my arm, his grip strong but not hurtful.
I gulped when he leaned his head toward my ear.
“You’re my wife now,kroshka. You stay with me.” His refined American accent seemed to disappear as the strength of his native accent took over—his tone filled with authority, urging me to obey.
But I didn’t want to. Couldn’t things just go my way for once?
“I don’t want to, Rafael.” I shook my head, inching away from him even though he still held me tightly.
He scoffed, lifting his head as he towered over my form, anger smoldering beneath his eyes.
“Just let me go! I don’t want to fucking sleep with you!” I yelled, pushing against his chest, but he wouldn’t budge.
He snorted in reply. “And what makes you think I want to fuck you? There’s nothing special about you, so stop being a bitch and—”
My free hand slammed into his face as my eyes burned with unshed tears. Though he barely flinched, he looked surprised, and the anger in his eyes grew stronger.
“Don’t you ever call me that.” I shook in anger. “If you want to sleep around like the manwhore you are, don’t lump me in the same category as you.”
He chuckled darkly, his grip on me tightening as his breathing grew ragged, as if he were trying to suppress the fury burning in his chest at my slap.
I’d expected him to hit me, but he just roughly let go of my arm, narrowing his gaze at me, and this time, I felt it deep in my soul when he spoke.
“Don’teverdo that again.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat as I nodded and hurried out of the room once he moved aside, letting me go.
The sound of my heart beating hard against my ribcage filled my ears as I walked down the hall to find another room.
It was scary seeing how he was letting a lot of things I did, but I knew I really had to keep my behavior in check someday.
We were now man and wife, and he could easily kill me without anyone batting an eye.
Chapter 7 – Rafael
That woman was driving me crazy, pushing me to the brink ofdelirium.
I was certain she had bewitched me in some way. That was why I referred to her as awitch. That was the only way I could explain all the things that had been going on with me.
That was the only reason I didn’t strangle her when she hit me across the face. With that woman, it felt like I was teetering on the edge of madness and slowly turning into a madman.
A madman who found everything she did to me euphoric and sensual.
I was furious at her brazen act of slapping me, but I couldn’t respond the way I wanted. Besides, in my entire life, I was raised never to lay my hands on a woman, so I had to seethe silently as my veins pulsed with steaming anger.
A week had passed since I married Arlette, and somehow it already felt like an eternity. After our argument on our wedding night, she started avoiding me like the plague. Our paths only crossed when she needed something from the kitchen or took a walk by the lake. She had moved to the room down the hall, away from the master bedroom, and had locked herself in there ever since.
A sick part of me yearned to have her around me. Ever since our lips touched in the cellar, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much more I wanted.
It was killing me, distracting me from things that demanded more attention. I just wanted it all over with.
I couldn’t tell anymore if I just wanted to have sex with her. It didn’t make sense to me anymore.
My actions puzzled me, and I was burning with an internal fever over how much I was feeling.
Immersing myself in work wasn’t enough for me, and thanks to Oskar’s instructions, I was unable to leave the house for two weeks because I was supposedly on my honeymoon.
And even though a pile of workload sat before me at my desk, Arlette still lurked in my thoughts.
