Page 37 of Forced plus-size Bride of the Bratva

I hear the mockery in his voice, and an image of last night pops into my head again. Adrian pinning me to the bed, fucking me mercilessly from behind. Why did I let him touch me like that, for goodness’ sake?

His smirk widens as he lowers himself onto the dining table, and I can tell he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“You weren’t looking at me like this last night,kotenok.Let’s cut the games, shall we?”

That does it.

Without thinking, I grab the nearest porcelain plate from the table and hurl it at him with everything I’ve got. It flies across the room, slicing through the air—

—and he catches it.

Easily.

Like he knew it was coming.

He looks down at the plate in his hand, then back at me with a grin that makes my skin crawl.

“I like fire,” he says, setting the plate down without looking. “You’ll learn that about me soon. I know exactly how to tame it.”

I clench my fists, teeth gritted. “You stole my life. Locked me in a room like I’m nothing.”

“You’re not nothing, Jennie,” he says, shrugging. “You’re mine.”

“I am not a thing to be owned!” I shout, voice cracking.

He sighs, like I’m a child throwing tantrums. “I married you.”

“You’re a monster,” I spit, my voice shaking with rage. “You think because you forced a ring onto my finger, you have the right to trap me like this? You can’t keep me prisoner, Adrian. You have no right!”

He doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he picks up a fork and starts eating as if I haven’t just screamed at him. Calm. Cold. Unbothered.

God, that infuriating calm.

His eyes flick up to mine as he chews, jaw working slowly, deliberately. Then he swallows and speaks, his voice low and rough.

“I have every right,kroshka. You wear my ring now. That makes you mine. And I don’t take what’s mine lightly.”

I feel sick.

He leans back in his chair, elbows resting wide, completely at ease, as if we’re talking about the weather and not my stolen freedom. “Don’t forget,” he adds, his voice turning sharper, crueler, “this was a bargain. A trade. I could’ve sent your brother’s head in a box and saved myself the trouble. But I didn’t. I spared him.”

His green eyes cut into me like blades.

“You’re here because I let him live. And if you want to keep him that way, you’ll behave.”

My stomach twists.

He smirks and cuts another bite of food, dragging his fork through it. “Don’t look at me like I’m a gentleman. I’m not.”

“No,” I whisper. “You’re not.”

My voice cracks on the last word.

He hears it. Sees it. And still doesn’t care.

“Good,” he says without looking up. “Then we understand each other.”

I fold my arms, trembling, and glare at him across the table. “What about Logan?” I ask, voice tight. “You said you’d let him go. Did you?”