Page 7

Alyona sits back down at the breakfast table without saying another word. She picks up her fork and quiet starts to eat her food.

With my eyes locked onto her I sit down next to her.

I am acutely aware that she is not acting normally. She shoulders are pushed back and her spine so rigid and straight it looks like someone rammed a steel pole down her back.

Her eyes are blank, looking around but seeing nothing.

She’s in shock.

It’s not the first time I’ve seen a person go into shock.

“Aly,” I say gently.

She doesn’t respond.

“Aly, do you want to talk?”

She closes her eyes, “No.”

“I was just—”

“No!” she screams.

I clench my jaw. No one speaks to me like that, but I need to make an exception for her right now. She’s just been exposed to such a pure form of violence—and the truth about her brother—her reaction is considerably calm given the circumstances.

I pick up my fork and start eating my breakfast as well. Deciding to just be next to her for now. I’m going to have to keep a close watch on her though. Not because I am worried about her escaping—but more because I am worried about her mental state slipping off the deep end.

Maybe half an hour later Aly stands up and without looking at me she says, “I’ll be in my room.”

“You don’t have to stay in your room. You can roam the mansion freely.”

“Freely?” she snorts a bitter laugh.

I clench my jaw again. I’ve thrown her right down the rabbit hole.

I exposed her to things that Avraam has spent her entire life protecting her from. I completely fucked things up for her. She can never go back to her old life knowing what she knows now.

Everything for her has changed, drastically, even how she views her own brother.

If I’d known she was so innocent I would have chosen a different solution. But it’s too late now. I can’t go back.

I can’t undo any of it.

And we are already married.

Alyona walks off the patio and disappears into the house. I choose not to follow her. She needs time to think. A little bit of time to process. But I won’t leave her alone for too long. I don’t know her well enough to know how she deals with shock.

When she is out of my sight, I lean forward against the table sitting with my head in my hands.

“Fuck,” I mutter to myself.

When Avraam finds out what’s happened—what she knows—the repercussions are going to be severe. But no matter what else happens—I will get my sister back. I will free Ruslana from whatever hold he has over her.

I push away from the table and head upstairs to my office to try to get some work done. My initial intension was to contact Avraam almost right away—but because things have changed so much, due to Alyona not knowing anything about what her brother does, I need to take a moment and think this through properly.

I have to let this whole thing stew for a while.

In the meantime, I will prioritize one thing—not letting Alyona completely lose her mind because of what I’ve exposed her to. It’s the least I can do for her. To try to make this a little easier.

Scrolling through my email I find that I can’t focus. My thoughts keep wandering back to her. What is she doing in her room?

What is she feeling or thinking?

When I can’t take it anymore I leave my desk and walk to her bedroom. Moving quietly, I look around the doorframe.

“Aly?” I say softly, not wanting to startle her.

But I find her fast asleep, curled up in a tight ball on the top of the bed near the headboard. She is clutching one of the pillows to her chest. Her cheek pressed into it, stained wet with her tears.

Her knees are pressed right against her chest as though she’s trying to hold herself.

I want to comfort her. She looks so tiny, so delicate and so beautiful.

I want to wrap my arms around her and lift her against my chest, just to hold her.

Sighing softly, I reach over and brush a curl of dark chocolate hair from her eyes.

She stirs and mutters in her sleep but doesn’t wake up.

“I’m sorry, Aly. I never meant to do this to you.” My heart pulls tight with guilt. I clench my jaw and step away from the bed.

I’ll do whatever I can to make this easier on her. But the priority is getting Ruslana back. I have to remember that.

Walking quietly out of the room, I leave the door open, making sure she understands she doesn’t have to stay in here alone. She can come out into the rest of the mansion.

Throughout the day, I continue to check in on her, but she is sleeping so deeply even my touch on her face doesn’t wake her.

I guess she needs it.

Adrenalin, a flood of emotions because of what I’ve told her about her brother. That teamed with a hangover, and the crazy shit that happened to her last night. It might all be normal for me—but it certainly isn’t for her.

I chuckle to myself. Marriage isn’t normal for me.

I can’t believe I’m looking down at this gorgeous little creature and she is my wife . She belongs to me.

I shake my head. No. I can’t be thinking like that.

This marriage is temporary. As soon as I have my sister back I will release her from the contract.

In all honesty the marriage is what will stop Avraam from trying to kill me when he finds out what’s happened.

Perhaps—I can’t let her free of the contract.

Perhaps staying married to her is the best way to keep her brother from overreacting.

Dammit.

I don’t know.

Alyona stirs and rolls over and when her big chocolate eyes open and see me she takes in a sharp breath.

“It’s ok,” I say softly. “I just came in here to let you know dinner will be ready soon. I want you to come and eat with me.”

She wiggles herself away from me, to the other side of the bed.

I stand still, trying not to spook her, knowing how scared she is and overwhelmed.

“I’d prefer to eat alone,” she says boldly when she sits up.

“I’d prefer you didn’t,” I reply, surprised by her sass, trying to hide the smirk threatening to touch my lips. “Come down when you’re ready,” I demand.

She sighs, making her annoyance as obvious as possible and I turn my back on her to hide the smile. I expected a shaking, timid little creature, but it seems she’s woken up with tenacity.

I head downstairs and sit in the dining room waiting for her.

She peaks around the corner of the door after about fifteen minutes.

“Glad you found it ok,” I say.

She rolls her eyes and sits down in the chair furthest from me.

I stand up, pulling the chair next to me away from the table, I walk around to where she is sitting and pick up the entire chair with her in it—and carry it to the open spot next to me.

She takes a very heavy breath and huffs it out loudly.

I chuckle and pull the bowl of ox stew closer to her plate so that I can dish up for her.

She glares at me the entire time.

“Do you want some side salad?”

She doesn’t answer, so I put some on her plate.

When we are both settled, I start eating, feeling the heat of her leg brushing against mine beneath the table, distracted by it and trying to ignore how it makes my body spike with desire.

“Aly, you can go wherever you want inside the mansion. There is a library, a gym and a sunroom. The pool is heated, and the garden is amazing if you want to roam around in it. But I can’t let you go beyond the walls of the mansion and the security guards will make sure of that.”

“I get it. I’m your prisoner,” she snaps.

“You are my guest.”

She snorts laughter. “Sure I am,” she says sarcastically.

The corner of my mouth curls into a smile.

She’s feisty tonight.

Our conversation doesn’t flow freely. It’s awkward and when I try to ask her general questions to get to know her a little better, she keeps her answers as clipped as possible. One word where she can manage it.

All in all—she’s angry.

And she’s not hiding it.

Her brows are constantly knotted when she looks in my direction and she’s gripping that fork as though she wants to stab me in the face with it.

As soon as she’s done eating, she stands up and leaves to go back to her room.

This becomes our routine.

Lunch and dinner together every day. But drenched in tension and anger from her side. I continue to try to talk to her, to make conversation and she continues to let me know that I am the person she hates most in this world.

***

On the third day of her being a guest in my mansion I can’t take it anymore. I want to try to break through this wall she is building around herself. A wall of anger and frustration and coldness towards me.

When dinner starts with the same feisty attitude, which I’ve come to enjoy—seeing this bold side of her—it impresses me that she got thrown into this situation and didn’t become a broken wreck of a person but instead became this fierce woman—I decide that tonight will go differently.

I’m ready to push a little.

I’ve been treating her like a wounded bird which she clearly isn’t.

Aly walks into the dining room and takes the same seat at the table that she always takes. The furthest one from me. I stand up and walk around picking her and the chair up and set it down in the space next to my chair.

She growls her frustration.

“Aly, you can’t keep this up. You have to stop being so angry at some point,” I chuckle.

“Oh, do I? Is that one of your rules? You want an obedient little wife who treats you with respect and does what she’s told? Well, Rigor, I’m sorry to tell you but you chose the wrong girl to kidnap and marry.”

She picks up her fork and stabs it into a steak, lifting it onto her plate.

I laugh loudly, amused by her outburst.

“Is it funny?” she turns to glare at me, the fork gripped in her hand like a weapon.

“A bit—yes. What are you planning on doing with that?” I gesture towards the silver utensil.

She sneers and picks up her knife as well.

Then makes a point of stabbing the sharp blade into the steak and slicing it in half while she bites her lower lip.

She looks beautiful, feisty and way too cute to be scary.

“There’s blue cheese sauce for the steak,” I say, casually ignoring her threats. I set the jug of sauce next to her plate and she picks it up and pours it over her meat.

“Aly, while you’re here we can at least get along,” I try again.

“How do you imagine that you and I could ever get along, Rigor? After what you showed me—my own brother—the things you’ve done.”

“Your brother and his actions have nothing to do with who I am,” I say defensively. “Those videos are of him. I just needed you to understand that he has been keeping things from you.”

She shakes her head.

“My brother is a Bratva mafia leader, right? The most ruthless ones are the leaders, right?”

I nod, “Correct.”

“So, what does that make you, Rigor? Any different from him?”

I open my mouth to say something but realize she’s caught me out.

She watches me closely as my response falls short of anything but admitting that I am just as bad as her brother.

If not worse.

My family is far more powerful than him.

I’ve done far worse things than what I showed her in that video.

I’m just shocked that she was so bold to blatantly point it out. If she understand that I am a leader as well—then she knows what I’m capable of and she’s not even scared to confront me about it.

I’m impressed.

I run my tongue over my lips and tilt my head towards her.

She looks satisfied with herself. As though she’s triumphed in some way.

“That’s what I thought,” she finally mutters, turning her attention back to her food.

There is no further conversation over dinner, but I have to admit that my curiosity towards Alyona has peeked tenfold.

I was attracted to her from the first moment I saw her, and the kiss we shared in the club still lingers on my thoughts, but now, seeing this fierceness in her—I’m becoming enthralled.

I want to know more about her.

I want to know everything.

I want to see more of who she really is.