Page 12 of The Pakhan's Forced Bride
She sits down with a tight smile, and I climb in next to her.
“Drive,” I snap, and the driver starts the engine.
We’re on our way home. Back in LA. My turf. My kingdom.
I should feel good.
But this feeling about Belle isn’t going away. She fired questions at me on the plane. I think it’s my turn to question her.What if she was planted here as a spy? It was far too easy to take her.
“Have you had training for this type of situation?” I ask.
She glances at me. “For getting surprise-married? It’s a bit hard totrainsomeone for that.”
She’s sassy. I cock my head to the side and glare at her with malice written across my face. “Did you recognize me when I took you, Belle?” I growl quietly.
“Sheesh, we’ve already been through this—I apologized for not knowing who you were. I’m sorry it offended you so much. I know yourname, but I had never seen your face before.” She’s agitated, shifting in her seat.
“How do you know my name?”
“Because my brother has mentioned you a number of times.” She shrugs. “I overhear conversations.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, watching her closely. She doesn’t like being put under the spotlight; the intensity of my stare is making her uncomfortable. She looks scared. But is she?
Either way, she’s a damn good actress if she isn’t.
Maybe I’m overthinking things. Everyone deals with stressful situations differently.I need sleep.
“There are rules at the mansion,” I tell her.
She nods meekly.
“You will do as I say at all times. You will stay within the walls of the mansion. My guards will be watching. You will not have access to a phone or the internet.” I list off some things I’ve implemented in preparation for her arrival. “Your room is stocked with everything you might need. I don’t want to hear complaining or whining or bitching.”
She pulls her mouth tight and turns away from me to look out the window of the car to watch LA pass by.I’ll take that as a yes.
We’re almost home. The driver turns onto the long strip of road that runs along the edge of the sea.
My mansion is on the shores of Venice Beach, with endless views of the ocean. Three stories high, all the walls facing the sea are glass and raw concrete. I wanted a seamless view and a modern, clean look to the architecture. My sisters tell me the place looks ominous. Kira said it looks like ‘brutalist architecture.’ I think it shows strength. Wide open spaces, natural light, crisp corners, and clean edges. Gray and glass.
When we drive through the security gates and park outside the mansion, Belle’s face is practically glued to the window. I want to ask her what she thinks, whether my sisters were right or not. But instead, I climb out of the car in silence and gesture for her to follow.
Her eyes are wide as we walk towards the entrance. The corners of my lips curl into a satisfied smile. She looks as daunted as I want her to be.
Inside the mansion, I grab her wrists. She flinches away from me before she realizes what I’m doing.
Then she stands still, waiting for me to cut the ties. They fall to the floor at her feet, and she stares at them for a moment, rubbing her wrists where red marks have cut into her skin. Maybe I made them too tight, after all.
“Your room is upstairs. Follow me,” I command.
“This place is…“ Her voice trails off, and I wait tensely for her to finish saying what she wanted to say. She doesn’t.
I turn to glare at her. “Is what?” I snap. She looks at me in shock.
“Is what, Belle?” I demand.
“The way the early morning light dances through the glass. It’s, um, it’s really beautiful,” she mumbles.
That’s not what I was expecting.
