Page 14 of The Bratva's Forced Bride
Except ...
Last night, he came to check in on me. Dressed in a black shirt and pants, blending into the night. Just swaggered into the room like a proud king, looking suave and handsome as always. His unruly hair fell in disheveled waves, creating an effortlessly cool look and he had a languid smile on his face. A smile that was undoubtedly the sexiest one I had seen in a long time. In another universe, he could have been a male model who just stepped out of a magazine, but in this one, he was the most intimidating man with a commanding presence, which left me in awe.
He had leaned against the doorframe, with his arms folded and his legs crossed, and his words were still ringing in my ears:
“I want to share something with you,” he’d announced with twinkling eyes.
With a heartbeat, I sat upright in bed, “Is Logan back? He came back for me, didn’t he?”
The smile faded off his lips instantly and he edged closer to let me see just how disappointed he was. “No.”
“Oh.” I had fumbled with my fingers, afraid to look him in the eye. The aggression in those blue, penetrating beams was enough to make me fear for my life. “Then ... Then what is this about?”
“You.” He sat down on the edge, close to my feet. He eyed my toes, his expression guarded. “I took some time to think—which is not a big deal because I’m always thinking but—I came to a conclusion, about our living arrangement.”
My jaw dropped. I was stunned. “You call this a living arrangement?”
His eyes hardened.
“If you shut the fuck up and listen to what I have to say, you’ll realize it's so. My grudge is against the idiot, not you. That means you don’t have to be miserable unless you want to be. This house? It’s big enough for both of us. Ignore my men. You can do what you want; the rooms are yours to use, except my office. But there is one rule.”
He gave out the information so quickly that my head was spinning. What he offered was unexpected. I had never heard of a captor giving his captives such permission. I should have been grateful, but ...
“And what’s the rule?”
When his warm hands gripped my feet and stroked my heels, I shivered, but not with fear. Warmth flooded my body, and an undeniable need consumed me.
He licked his lower lip and stared at me. Heat crawled up my legs, traveled between my thighs, and settled in my aching center. “You can’t escape, hermosa. It may not look like it, but I’m not an advocate for violence. Only when it’s necessary. You can’t even think about escaping. If you dare and I find out, I'll tie your feet and hang you upside down in the basement until your pretty head drowns in a pool of blood. Comprender.”
He let go of my feet and left the room, leaving fear to snuff out the flame that troubled my core.
One rule that could change everything if I dared break it. It could unleash the monster behind the composed professional facade, and I would never see Logan again, or my father, or Maria.
My stomach growled, hunger cues, reminding me I should eat something.
After a quick shower—which was more like a dip in the Arctic—I dried my hair with a towel and stood in front of the mirror. Then I exhaled. My reflection was enough to make me cringe. Part of my butt was peeking out of my booty shorts and Logan’s baggy sweatshirt now looked like a boring rag. I wasn’t sure why—it had only been two days—but it looked like I'd shed a few pounds.
If my father saw me, he’d scold me for not properly taking care of myself.
But before appearance came food. If I starved myself and died in the process, what good was that?
With bare feet, I slipped out of the room and went in search of the kitchen.
When Mark said the house was big enough for the two of us, he wasn’t exaggerating. The mansion had more space than I could have imagined. Even my father’s house wasn’t as big as this one.
As I headed downstairs, I tilted my head back and gaped at the high ceiling with fancy glass lights dangling from it. I walked through the foyer and started my quest to find the kitchen. Surprisingly, there were no maids or guards around, they were probably on their lunch break, which put me at ease.
The first floor felt like a thick maze, door after door and short side corridors, but eventually, I stumbled into the kitchen. It was very elegant and modern, with sleek, shiny white cabinets, artistic glass backsplashes, and a huge Carrara marble center island with six white leather bar stools, but most importantly, a large six-burner gas stove. It was a chef's dream kitchen, if only I had such skills.
A gas cooktop. I hope I don’t burn the place down.
I glanced around and found a huge double-door fridge, next to a walk-in cold room for fruit and vegetables, and I was in heaven.
“Finally. Let’s whip up a storm, Addison.”
Chapter 7 - Mark
“When you want what you want, and you want it bad enough, you’ll find a way to get it.” – Jim Rohn.