Page 100 of His Forced Bride
"But it will end. I give you my word."
The determination in his expression makes me believe him.
Despite everything—forced marriage, manipulation, the way he destroyed my planned life—I believe he will protect what belongs to me.
"I need to clean up," he says, standing slowly.
"And you need food. Rosa will have dinner in the kitchen by now."
But I don't want food.
I don't want to sit alone in that dining room, picking at plates while my mind replays images of bandaged hands and broken ribs.
I want to feel protected, to feel safe, to forget for a few hours that my choices have consequences that hurt innocent people.
So, I follow him upstairs.
He doesn't question it or send me away, so I sit on the bed's edge while he disappears into the bathroom.
Running water sounds from behind the door, and I stare at my hands, trying to reconcile the woman who built a fashion empire with the woman who feels relief at her husband's brutality.
When he emerges, his hair hangs damply and he wears only sleep pants.
Cuts and bruises mark his knuckles, now clean but still visible evidence of what he did for me today.
My chest tightens with conflicting emotions.
This man killed for me.
Multiple people died because they threatened what I built. I should be horrified.
I should feel sick.
So why do I feel comforted and drawn to him?
He forced me to marry him, which is what started this whole thing, right?
Or was he telling the truth that this would all have happened regardless of whether I married him?
And without him, I'd just be on my own fighting against these men who want to burn my world to the ground.
"Come here," I say.
He stops, studying my face. "Inessa?—"
"Please."
He crosses to the bed and sits beside me.
I shift closer, then closer still, until I can curl against his side.
His arm comes around me automatically, his hand settling at my waist.
"I know Batya isn't here to stop what's happening,"
I whisper against his chest.
"I know you're the only one who can end this."
