Page 11 of The Russian Pakhan's Forced Bride
“I can and I will,” Roman says, unwavering in his decision. “I need to know it’s safe.”
“Safe?” I echo, well aware of the near devastation in my voice, as I stand to meet him halfway. “Safe for who?”
“For you, obviously,” he returns without missing a beat, revealing something beneath his cold exterior. It isn’t necessarily warmth, but…reluctant duty? Maybe even a sliver of care? “And for my family, as I said. You’re involved in this regardless of me making a mistake. If I don’t make the correct moves now, you could become a target. Now, anyone could use you for their gain.”
Breath feels hard to come by, and it’s almost like the sedative has been given to me all over again.
“I’m not a criminal,” I murmur, unable to stop my voice from cracking. “I’m not like you.”
Another flicker of irritation reaches his eyes, but he relents. “I know…and that’s exactly why I’m doing this to protect you.”
Roman says it like he’s doing me some kind of holy favor…like trapping me in his house, and everything to do with his life is something I should thank him for.
It seems he believes it, too.
But for better or worse, I know a cage when I see one. The bars might be as expensive as can be, but it doesn’t change a thing.
“This is insane…you’re insane.”
Completely unaffected by my words, Roman doesn’t flinch. “If I let you go right now, someone out there could easily discover what happened here tonight. They’ll find you and track you down just like I did…they’ll know you’re legally my wife, and they’ll use that to try and get to me. I might make it out of that situation unscathed, but you won’t.”
The heat rises in my chest, burning with the sheer panic I can’t shake. “I wouldn’t be in that position if it weren’t for you!”
His jaw tightens, like he knows I’m right but doesn’t want to admit it. “I can’t let them find out…they can’t think I’m capable of making mistakes.”
“Clearly you are,” I snap back, stuck between flux and flow of wanting to cower and needing to fight back against him. “So what am I supposed to do? Sit around and wait for you to tell me the coast is clear of your enemies?”
I expect him to lose his mind on me and to put me in my place, but Roman doesn’t say anything.
Immediately, it’s obvious that’s all the answer I need.
My hands are trembling with every overwhelming emotion coursing through me, and despite surely seeing that tension in me, Roman doesn’t say anything about it.
After a moment, he sighs, then gestures to his left. “Come on. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”
My brows furrow at his dismissal, but despite my fear and pain due to everything that has happened, I can hardly muster the energy to continue fighting him.
In a way, having somewhere to go to get away from him sounds appealing.
My legs feel weak as I follow behind him, absently looking around the place that seems far too nice for me to stay in. With my head full of static, it takes all of my remaining strength to put one foot in front of the other and not collapse while heading up the stairs.
At the very least, the long hallway he takes me down has more than enough expensive things to hold my attention and keep me vaguely distracted. Everything from the occasional wall hanging to the luxurious rugs and all the finishings in between screams just how wealthy he is.
He really is as powerful as he seems. Which leads me to believe his supposed enemies can’t be too far off.
Eventually, after what feels like a lifetime, Roman stops outside of one of the doors and opens it before stepping aside and looking at me.
Regardless of his earlier slip, his eyes have become unreadable again, but I can tell he’s assessing me in some way.
Even with my guard up and the voice in the back of my head begging me to get away somehow, I can’t help but hold his gaze. To take in those hard yet appealing features of his.
Pulling myself out of it before I can get too lost in the moment, I glance into the room to find myself at a complete loss.
It appears to be a spare, yet the single room is bigger than my entire apartment. The bed is neatly made with silk sheets and lush blankets. There’s a black velvet chaise lounge beneath the window that looks like it’s from a period piece, and subtle yet comfortable decor.
All of it looks too perfect. Too put together.
“I’ll have some food brought up soon,” Roman says as neutrally as ever, despite my circumstances. “Someone will be posted outside the door if you need anything.”
