Page 3 of The Pakhan's Forced Bride
Sighing, I drop the lipstick back into my purse and step away from the mirror. Let’s get this over with so I can go home and watch the last episode of that awesome sci-fi show I’ve been binging.
If it wasn’t for my mother’s constant interfering with my life, I’d actually be having fun right now.
I hope Benedikt can convince her to stop setting up these stupid dates.
I don’t want to hear one more lecture about how I should diet, exercise more or visit some fancy wellness clinic to ‘get myself right,’ as the latest idiot so blatantly put it.
Thanks, Mom, for this endless torture.It’s strange because usually I’m so good at handling my mom. I can distract her from her ideas and send her on a different thought train, but after Benedikt got married and met the love of his life and all that fairytale nonsense, she’s stopped worrying about him and is now fully focused onmylove life with the entire force of her eccentric determination. It’s exhausting. Literally, my body feels drained, and I start getting anxious every time she tells me she’s set up a new date. I can’t take much more of it.
The bathroom door swings open easily, and I step out into the hallway and end up bumping into a ridiculously tall, solid wall of a man. He reaches out to hold me steady.
I glance up at him. He’s freaking gorgeous.
He’s huge. Muscular. Solid and broad and massive. His pitch-black eyes glare down at me and make my heart race faster.
“Sorry,” I say sweetly as I smile up at him, but he doesn’t smile back. He tilts his head to the side, with his hand still resting on my waist, he mutters, “You should pay more attention to where you’re going, darling. You don’t want to bump into the wrong person.”
It sounds like a threat more than anything else, which makes me laugh.
“I’ll do that.” I sigh, rolling my eyes. Oops. Bad habit. It’s all these idiot men around me. It’s their fault.
His hand slides off my body, and I’m amused by the fact that one touch from this stranger has my body tingling with electricity. Why can’t my mom set me up on a date with a guy like this?
He’s freaking hot. Black hair and eyes to match, a dark shadow of stubble over his square jaw, and lashes that could put any girl to shame.
He’s more than hot. He’s beautiful. Dangerous. Mysterious. The type of guy you close your eyes and dream about before falling asleep.
Still an asshole, by the sounds of it, but at least he’s a hot asshole. At least I’d have something to look at while he lectured me on my eating habits.
I step left and he steps right, so I step right, and he steps left, and we get caught in one of those awkward, embarrassing dance maneuvers that happen when you try to walk around someone in a small space.
I giggle, stop side-stepping, and instead take a step backwards, trying to give him space to pass me, but he steps forward this time, and I end up with my back against the wall, and this devil of a man pressed against me.
“Um.Sorry,” I say again, my brow furrowed, because that seemed very deliberate of him.
He presses his hand into the wall above my head, and his body pins me harder against it. I take a sharp breath as my nerve endings spark like fireworks. His muscles are solid, carved from rock. I’m so distracted by how he feels against me that I’ve completely lost my train of thought.
“How is your date going, Belle?” his deep voice rumbles over me, vibrating against my breasts.
“It’s, um, it’s horrible, um…"Wait, did he just say my name? Like my actual real name?“Who are you?” I stammer.
“Mm. You don’t know? I’m a little disappointed.” Even his voice is dark and dangerous. The ultimate bad boy.
Despite the current of fear his voice is stirring in me, it’s also so freaking sexy that I find the contrast amusing.
“Are you going to introduce yourself, or are we going to stay stuck to this wall all night instead?” I ask, sassy and grinning.
He growls, snarling, as his lips curl up. Apparently, he doesn’t like jokes. Interesting. But that only makes me want to make more jokes.
“We’ll see if you’re still smiling in a moment,” he warns me, stepping back, grabbing my arm, and tugging me forward.
I’m about to tell him to get his hands off me when someone behind me slaps a piece of tape over my mouth. My eyes flare wide just before they throw a bag over my head, and I see a glint of devilish mischief in the monster’s face.
I scream against the tape, but there isn’t any point. The sound is muffled and useless. The man lifts me off the ground and throws me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing. His massive hands grip my ass to hold me in place, and I cling onto the back of his shirt, hoping like hell he doesn’t drop me. I’ve never been carried by anyone before, never mind someone who makes me feel like he could crush me with one hand.
He carries me out the back of the restaurant, and as the cool night air touches my skin, all I can think is,well, thank goodness I don't have to go back to that date.
Chapter 2 - Ardalion
