Page 38 of Forced By the Obsessed Bratva

Anything.

Anything he had to offer.

But he offered me nothing.

I crossed the room and climbed into bed beside him, my muscles tense and coiled like a spring overwound. I said nothing, too, hardly breathing because I was afraid he would see all of my dirty thoughts if I breathed too loudly.

I stared at the ceiling, my mind drifting to the sound of him sayinglittle bridein his deep voice with that Russian accent lacing his tone.

A warmth spread through me at the memory of him leaning on me, and I hated myself for it, for wanting him when I knew I should’ve despised him with everything in me.

Maybe a part of me had been expecting him to touch me tonight. Part of me had hoped for it.

That was, without doubt, the most humiliating part of it all.

I rolled onto my side, turning my back to him, my cheeks burning even in the darkness.

Behind me, his breathing slowed already. He was asleep already or pretending to be. I couldn’t say. Didn’t care.

All I knew was that I was in the bed of a man I didn’t trust, a man who scared me…and my head was full of him.

His hands.

His voice.

And what it would be like to surrender myself to the very thing I swore I would survive.

Chapter 10 – Matvey

The cue ball struck the cluster with a sharp, satisfying crack. Two solids dropped, one into the corner pocket, one into the side, and Eduard whistled low under his breath as he leaned against the side of the table.

“You always swing like a guy who hasn’t gotten laid in weeks,” he said, grinning. “It makes me nervous.”

“Could be he’s just that competitive,” Isaak replied, nimbly juggling a glass in his hand. “Or maybe marriage has him in a tight bind.”

The others laughed. Rurik did not.

He was sitting by the window, quiet as he had been the past few days, a glass of dark alcohol nestled in his palm. He had spoken little since the funeral. Sinceher.

Isaak had won the previous three games. He barely even tried. Always smirking.

Eduard was as boisterous as ever, his voice rising above the music that poured from the speakers in the corner, cracking jokes that would soon be forgotten by everyone.

It was supposed to be a diversion, or so I told myself. Allow the boys to let off steam, keep morale up, and pretend we were not walking a tightrope between alliance and betrayal every damn day.

It worked for the most part.

For everyone except me.

I stood ten paces back from the table, cue in hand, gazing at the red glow of embers in the ashtray, and marveling at how quiet the east wing had been lately.

Regarding how quiet she had been.

Ten days.

Ten days since the wedding.

For ten days, I watched her slip around the house like a ghost, always dodging my attention, answering with little more than one-word responses, and practicing a politeness that made her iciness appear to be my own shortcoming.