Page 30 of Forced plus-size Bride of the Bratva
I don’t acknowledge any of them.
Jennie walks in ahead of me, her velvet dress trailing behind her like spilled ink. She doesn’t wait—just starts toward the staircase like she’s lived here all her life, like she still has a say in where she goes or sleeps.
She doesn’t.
“Jennie,” I say calmly, standing at the bottom of the stairs.
She pauses.
“You’re no longer using the guest room,” I tell her. “You use my room.”
She whips around so fast I can see the fury crack through her like lightning. “You must be sick in the head if you think I’ll sleep in the same room with you.” Her voice rises. “You’re fucking insane.”
The words hit harder than they should.
But not harder than I hit back.
I take the first two steps slowly, then the rest in quick, angry strides. “Don’t you ever speak to me like that again,” Igrowl, voice low and deadly. “I’ll show you what an insane man does.”
She tries to bolt.
Too slow.
I catch her before she clears the landing, sweeping her off her feet like a ragdoll, ignoring her shrieks and fists beating at my chest.
She screams.
She hits me.
It doesn’t matter.
Her fists are soft. Her voice is sweet, even when it’s screaming.
I carry her up the stairs without breaking pace. Past the hallway. Past the guest rooms. All the way to the west wing. My wing.
Her fight is wild but clumsy, burning out as I push open the door to my bedroom and walk inside.
Black silk sheets. Dark gray walls. A fire flickering low in the hearth.
I toss her onto the bed like she weighs nothing. She bounces once on the mattress and scrambles up, eyes wide, breathing hard.
“You bastard!” she spits. “You actual psycho—”
“This isn’t a honeymoon,” I cut her off. My voice is quiet. Cold. Unapologetic. “I’m not going to waste time worrying about your happiness.”
She stands on the bed now—barefoot, wild-eyed, her fists clenched at her sides like she’s preparing for a war she can’t possibly win.
“The only reason you’re here,” I continue, stepping back toward her, “is to be mine. You will learn to please me, Jennie. In every way.”
Her mouth parts in disbelief.
I wait for the tears.
I want them.
I want her to cry, to break, so I can walk away before I do something worse. But she doesn’t cry.
She rips the veil off her head and throws it to the floor like it’s poisoned.
