Page 7

I wake with a start, momentarily confused by the unfamiliar surroundings. Then it comes crashing back—Dima's decree that we will now be living together, announced at a public family event. I can't help but feel bitter about his decision to force us to live together without considering my feelings.

My frustration wells up as I take in the futuristic bedroom I now find myself trapped in. LED modern lights rim the ceiling, and minimalistic furnishings fill the space, making the place feel sterile. Lifeless. A prison, not a home.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I take a moment to gather my thoughts, all of which seem to be running in a particularly dark direction. This isn't the life I envisioned for myself, and certainly not with a man like Dima. The age gap between us and his protective nature only add to my unease. I clench my fists, feeling the anger simmering beneath the surface as I think of how he paid for me like I was just another transaction when he ‘rescued’ me.

With a heavy sigh, I push my face into my hands and massage my temples. You’re being too harsh, Lara, I tell myself. You’re finding things you never paid heed to problematic now.

I try to control my thoughts before reflection becomes rumination. But, it’s a difficult thing to do considering how I resent Dima at this moment, resent his audacity to make such a monumental decision for us without discussion.

If this is to be a marriage, it cannot be one solely on his terms. Because from how it’s going now, it seems like I’ve been taken from the prison I called home to just a different kind of captivity.

With tired legs, I stand up and begin getting dressed. I choose a simple dress from the many already placed in my closet, all new with tags on, and make my way to the dining room.

When I enter the dining room, I find Dima already seated, a lavish breakfast spread before him. He looks up from his newspaper, a hint of surprise crossing his face when he sees me all dressed. His eyes track me as I take the chair farthest from him, every inch of space a small rebellion.

"Did you sleep well?" he asks, attempting to engage me in conversation.

"Fine." My response is clipped, devoid of emotion. I don't want to give him anything more to work with, any further insight into my thoughts.

”Early bird, are you?” he smiles cheerily, motioning at my outfit, wanting to continue this pathetic excuse for a conversation.

“My brothers like us all dressed for breakfast,” I state icily. “I don’t know what rules you’d prefer me to follow in your home.”

He lurches his neck back, almost like he’s been jerked away. I can tell he's taken aback by my tone.

"Listen, Lara," he begins, clearly struggling with my coldness. "I know this situation isn't ideal for either of us, but I'm trying to make the best of it. You ought to know that I want you to feel at home here."

I lean forward to pour myself a coffee, not meeting his eyes. There's a flicker of sincerity in his voice, but it doesn't change the fact that he single-handedly announced the decision for me to come and live with him here.

I sit back and take a sip, not acknowledging his words.

Dima clears his throat. “As I said, this is your home,” he says. “So please, explore the grounds today. Go wherever you wish—the only restriction is that my men are stationed at outposts and boundary walls for security, but they have been given strict instructions to leave you to your devices within the grounds."

I look up in shock and freeze with my coffee cup halfway to my lips, certain I've misheard. Dima is giving me freedom of movement, just like that? After whisking me away without my knowledge?

Back home in Russia, when we lived on large grounds, I always had men following me around.

"The mansion and grounds are now yours, Lara," Dima says solemnly. "I hope in time you will come to see this as your home, too."

My eyes narrow, searching his face for any sign of deception. But his earnest expression reflects none of the cold authority from our evening last night.

His words surprise me, and part of me wants to reject his offer out of stubbornness. But another part—the part that's desperate for some semblance of control—clings to the freedom he's offering. "Fine," I say cautiously. "I'll give it a chance."

He nods. “Feel free to have your friends over. If you need anything, please ask the housekeeper. She will help get your messages across to the other staff. Beyond that, I will send a list of contacts over. Interior decorators, contractors. As I said, it’s your home. Any changes you deem worthy may be made and I will settle the bill with the vendors directly.”

I stare at him, dumbfounded. I can make changes around the house? My brothers never consulted me on things like that. In fact, the thought probably never crossed their mind.

I was, after all, the baby of the family.

Dima stands to his feet and gives me a nod. “I’ll be working late tonight,” he explains. “Bratva business. But if you need something, you can call me at my study.”

With that, he leaves me to my own devices.

Devices I’ve never before had a chance to explore.

***

A few hours after our tense breakfast, I find myself sitting in the living room, staring blankly at the book in my lap. I keep reading the same sentence over and over again, and yet, I can’t get my mind away from all the intrusive thoughts running through my head.

Too much has changed overnight.

I grab my phone to see if there are any calls or messages from any of my brothers. There are none. I had tried calling the house earlier but was told they had all gone in for work and would be busy.

Their cell phones went unanswered.

I put aside the book, my heart aching in pain from the disappointment I’ve caused my brothers. Of course, they need their space to come around and accept that I got married without involving them in the decision.

They’ve protected me their whole life, and now, I treated them as well as I might a stranger. The guilt seeps through me, and sitting here alone isn’t doing me any good.

Maybe I should do something that keeps my mind busy. I decide to take Dima up on his suggestion earlier today and make this house mine in whatever small ways I can.

With that, I spend the day exploring the mansion, determined to carve out my own space within its walls. The house is grand and filled with expensive contemporary artwork and furniture, but it feels cold and impersonal. I decide to start with my bedroom, replacing the overly white bedding with a simple floral pattern and more to my taste. I ask the housekeeper to arrange a car to go to my place and collect a box of my favorite books and framed photos, which I shall arrange later.

As I work, I allow myself to imagine living here, not just as Dima's reluctant wife, but as someone who belongs. It's a dangerous thought, but I can't help it. There's something about having control over my surroundings that makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I can regain control over my life.

I move on to the living room, rearranging furniture and adding throw pillows and blankets to make it more inviting. The transformation is subtle, but it's enough to make me feel more at ease.

***

As darkness falls, though, restlessness creeps in. My temporary contentment fades, replaced by an itch I can't scratch.

I feel the urge to do something reckless. Despite Dima's efforts to make me feel at home, there's still this gnawing feeling of confinement within me. I need a place to unwind; somewhere I can escape to without the constant reminder of my forced marriage. I need to get out, to breathe air untouched by the influence of this situation that makes me feel powerless.

I want to feel the way I did just weeks ago—free to live for myself…

I know he won't willingly let me leave, not after rescuing me from trouble caused during my nights out in Philadelphia. But I'm not some fragile doll in need of his protection. I’ve learned my lesson and am wise enough to know that I won’t repeat the same mistakes I made.

At this point, I’d be happy with a hot dog and a walk on the street. Or maybe I could run in for a Jazz show. Mind made up, I wait until the mansion falls silent. I wait until I hear the distant sound of Dima's footsteps retreating down the hallway before slipping into action. My heart races with anticipation as I pull on a pair of jeans and a hoodie. The thrill of sneaking out fills me with an adrenaline rush that pushes aside any lingering doubts or fears.

I sneak down the servants' staircase, praying I can make it outside undetected. Heart pounding, I ease open a side door and slip out into the gardens cloaked by the night.

The cool air fills my lungs like a drug, soothing my agitated nerves. I relax for the first time in days, savoring my hard-won freedom. Now, all I have to do is find an unguarded opening in the boundary wall and scale it. One small jump and Philadelphia is mine again to explore.

But just as I'm about to disappear into the shadows of the trees planted along the boundary wall, a viselike grip closes on my arm. I whirl to find Dima looming behind me, jaw tight with anger.

"Where are you going?" he demands, yanking me against his chest. His eyes blaze in the moonlight.

Panic surges through me as I fumble for an explanation, but words fail me. How can he be so quiet when he moves?

"Answer me, Lara," he demands, his voice low and dangerous, sending shivers down my spine.

"I…I just needed some fresh air," I lie, trying to sound casual despite the trembling in my voice.

"Really?" He crosses his arms over his broad chest and raises an eyebrow. "Then why didn’t you walk out through the front door? I was watching you, and you didn’t look too innocent, Lara.”

“W…watching me?” I ask, feeling angry even though I’m the one who made a mistake.

“On the CCTV,” he says, nonchalantly.

Suddenly, I find myself even angrier. “And here I thought I had some freedom,” I hiss.

He frowns and grabs my arm, glaring down at me. “You have all the freedom to do whatever it is you wish. I got a notification alert that the servant quarter door had been opened. It’s your first night here, and I don’t want any intruders. I checked and saw it’s you, and that’s that. I wasn’t spying on you.”

With each word, he’s inched closer and closer, and one more word and his lips might as well be down on mine. We stand there, panting, each enveloped in our personal anger. The moment stretches on, and I part my lips, weakening from how strongly he holds me.

“Dima,” I whisper, and his eyes shift. It feels like he was lost somewhere else, and just found his way back to the moment. His eyes flicker over mine and trail to where he holds me. He releases me in a rush and quickly steps back.

“No, Lara,” he shakes his head. “I wasn’t spying on you. As I said, you can do what you want. But you do need to tell me where you’re going so that I can know you’re safe. It’s the same courtesy I’d extend you. That’s what family does,” he insists, his voice softening at the last words.

My anger starts to ebb away, replaced by a mix of confusion and a strange warmth at his unexpected words. Family? It's the last thing I expected him to call us.

But in a strange way, isn’t that what we’re doing now? Living together, like a family.

“I’m sorry, Dima,” I say softly.

“Where were you going anyway?” he asks gruffly.

"I’m feeling so suffocated, Dima," I almost whisper, surprising myself with the vulnerability in my words. "I can't just sit here day after day, living a life others want for me.”

"And you couldn’t come to me with that?” he growls, his eyes darkening with anger at this secret I harbor. "You want to go outside? Let's go. Together."

My heart races as I stare into Dima's dark eyes, trying to gauge his intentions. "Wait, what?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, his expression determined. “If you feel suffocated, we’ll go out together. I wasn’t spying, but I do care about your safety. Everything with Marv is still so fresh. I’m guessing you don’t have plans with friends tonight. So, I insist to accompany you. Wherever you want, wherever you want, just say the word.”

I blink in surprise. This is so not how I expected this conversation to go down.