Page 25 of Plus-Size Bride Forced By the Bratva
Interesting how I spent most of my time at work thinking about her, cooking up ways to make her life more miserable. Just for the fun of it. Ravyn was starting to live rent-free in my head, and as fascinating as that was, it could also be a distraction.
That was the last thing I needed right now—distractions. I’d seen what women like her did to men like me, how they slithered their way into their husbands’ hearts and occupied every space as though it had always been theirs for the taking.
This wasn’t just some urban legend or story I was told as a kid. I saw it happen to my older brother, Valarian Tarasov, the first man in our family to leave the family business because of a woman.
And it all started out like this: He married a defiant young girl with fire in her eyes—just like the girl I married. Val’s wife was also half his age, like Ravyn was half mine. Thinking about it now, I could see the pattern, and chances were that….
No. I wasn’t my brother, and Ravyn didn’t have the ability to make me turn against my family. Val’s wife, Wren, wasn’t someone I saw as an enemy, not even after her husband sacrificed his entire life for her.
Quite the contrary, I had so much respect for a woman with strong influence over a man as cold-blooded as my big brother. I wasn’t sure how she did it, but she helped him find another career outside of the violence of our world. She helped him find love and happiness.
I’d met with the woman a few times before, and I understood what my brother saw in her.
Honestly, Ravyn had almost the same qualities as Wren, but I doubted her ability to make me turn a new leaf. I wasn’t counting on it because it was impossible. Val was cold. Yes. But I was colder.
This marriage was strategic—devoid of love or any emotion that wasn’t hatred. I wouldn’t exactly say I hated her; that was her area of specialty. Not mine. I just enjoyed watching her suffer. I enjoyed getting under her skin, leaving her in a constant state of confusion.
She’d humiliated the Tarasov family, and as a result, I decided to play a little game with her. One that involved ruining her life and taking over her family’s business without drawing unnecessary attention to myself.
Like I said, this union was based on strategy, so it was impossible for her to slither her way into my heart.
Tonight, I returned home after a long day, but she wasn’t in the master bedroom. I set my briefcase on the table and slowly shed my jacket as I scanned the room for her.
I checked the bathroom, but she wasn’t there. She wasn’t on the balcony either.
Maybe she was in the garden, soaking up the energy of the full moon. But when I looked out the floor-to-ceiling window, I saw no sign of her. If I didn’t trust my security details, I might have thought she had escaped the mansion.
That stubborn little devil was more than capable of trying something like that anyway. But no. She must be somewhere in the house, doing God knows what.
I left the room soon after removing my cufflinks, and as I strolled toward my study, I rolled up my shirt sleeves. I paused at the door, squinting my eyes when I noticed it was slightly open.
I locked it before leaving this morning. I always did. So, who was in there without my permission? The entire staff knewthe rules that governed this household like the back of their hands. One of those rules was that no one was allowed in my study without my consent.
My blood boiled as I entered the dimly lit room, furious and planning how to punish this disobedient staff. But all that anger disappeared, and my eyebrows raised when I saw who the intruder was.
It was my little devil of a wife.
“Oh. You’re back,” she said, her voice flat and emotionless.
I stood at the door, stunned by her boldness—amazed by it. She was standing in front of the glass weapons case with a combat knife in her hands, the blade shimmering under the soft light. Her fingers hovered over the polished steel, a flash of awe in her eyes.
There was something dark in those blue eyes of hers, something that I was familiar with. A dangerous curiosity. She studied the knife as though it were something she found intriguing. And even when she heard me come in, she didn’t flinch, didn’t show any sign of fear.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” I said, my expression unreadable, voice low and even.
“Yeah. They told me you’d freak out,” she answered, holding my gaze with an equally unreadable expression. “I told them I didn’t care.” Her shoulders shrugged slightly.
Freak out? Was she being serious right now?
My brows drew together. “So, you were warned not to come in here.”
“Yes,” she said, “but I don’t like being told what to do.”
The audacity.
“How’d you get inside?” I asked, curious to find out, considering that I was the only one with the key to my study.
She paused for a moment, watching me with a blank face. “I picked your lock.”
