Page 22 of Plus-Size Bride Forced By the Bratva
She was officially mine now.
The wedding went smoothly, as did the reception that just finished about an hour ago. Our guests had all left after wishing us well. We drove back home in a convoy, and although we sat together in the backseat of the car, neither of us said a word to each other.
I didn’t force anything—didn’t start a conversation to tease her or piss her off. She was already angry and frustrated at the fact that she now belonged to me in the eyes of the law and all those witnesses in God’s house.
She was now a Tarasov, and I wanted to let that sink in for a bit. Let her process her new reality and take the night to come to terms with it. The agreement was to be together forever, meaning there was plenty of time to taunt her, make her regret ever playing this game with me.
But for tonight, I’d let her soak her sheets with tears, cry herself to sleep with so much hatred burning in her heart. I’d never been more fascinated by someone’s hatred for me than I was by hers.
Toiling with her always offered me some sense of satisfaction and comfort. Perhaps that was why she called me evil, cruel, and all sorts of names. However, I was used to all of that because I’d been called worse.
Never gave a shit before, wouldn’t start now.
In the master bedroom, I shed my jacket and stood in front of the full-length mirror. My tie hung loosely around my neck, and my fingers carefully removed my cufflinks. I looked up and saw her reflection in the mirror, a subtle, knowing grin on my lips.
She sat on the couch across the king-sized bed, hands on her lap, her honey-blonde hair catching the chandelier’s softlight. She tapped her feet, chewing on her nails every now and then. Her expression was blank, although I could see the hint of fear and anxiety simmering beneath the surface.
The silence was deafening, the tension between us rising with each passing second.
Her white silk lace fit her body perfectly, hugging her in all the right places. She locked her jaw and deepened her frown as if trying to hide her emotions. However, it was useless because I could see right through her.
I returned my cufflinks neatly into the drawer, then slowly unbuttoned my shirt while stealing quick glances in her direction. I had no intention of touching her tonight, but I’d be damned if I didn’t enjoy her subtle struggle to mask her nervousness.
Ravyn was uncertain about my next move, and I could tell that she hated that uncertainty.
With the top four buttons of my crisp white shirt undone, I strolled over to the minibar. There, I withdrew a bottle of brandy and poured myself a drink. I felt her gaze lingering whenever she thought I wasn’t watching.
Gracefully, I raised the glass to my lips and took a sip, savoring the pleasant taste.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she broke the silence, her voice low but laced with a hint of vexation.
“The brandy?” I asked teasingly. “Yeah.” A crooked smirk tugged at a corner of my lips.
Her brows furrowed, her expression darkened, and her jaw clenched. “I know what you want, what you plan on doing tonight. So, why are you stalling? Just get it over with.”
I arched my eyebrows, my expression softening ever so slightly. “What do you think I want, Ravyn? Enlighten me.”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“Do I?” I took another sip.
She stood up, eyes burning with anger, pain, and sadness—and maybe defeat. “What do you gain from watching me suffer?”
Silence. I just stood there, listening, observing.
“You’ve taken everything from me—you stripped me of my future, my happiness, and my career.”
Still silence on my end.
“What are you waiting for? You might as well go ahead and strip me naked—force yourself on me. Isn’t that what monsters like you do to vulnerable women like me?” Her voice cracked under the weight of her emotions as she blurted out the words in a frantic rush.
I set the glass on a nearby table and approached her, my footsteps slow and measured. With one hand buried in my pocket, and my eyes pinned on her, I halted inches from her.
She braced herself, her body stiffening, with a breath hitched in her throat as she glared at me.
My lips curled into a smirk. “I didn’t realize you were so eager to have me inside you.”
Her scowl deepened, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek, agitated by my words. “You, Lev Tarasov, are evil,” she said, looking right into my eyes, her voice low and venomous.
