Page 4 of Plus-Size Bratva Possession (Vadim Bratva #12)

I couldn't believe how easy it had been. I knew for a fact Elena was smart, but seeing how she went all trusting because I showed her just a little care and mentioned how I might have been wrong proved to me one thing: The girl had zero survival instinct.

She had probably been the kind of child who could have gotten kidnapped because a stranger offered to show her a puppy.

With one hand firm on her shoulder, I saw the trouble she was brewing in her mind etched across her face.

Her eyes, the whole time, threw daggers.

“You manipulative piece of shit,” she spat as I held the car door open. When she refused to get in, I placed my hand on the small of her back and pushed her firmly forward.

“Watch your head,” I said flatly, ignoring her outburst.

She turned to me with a scowl, one tooth digging into her lower lip. She held my stare as she huffed and forced herself into the passenger seat up front, and I found myself with a strange feeling indeed.

An unwelcome flutte r of interest. Those eyes. That mouth. Christ, what had I gotten myself into?

“You’re going to hell for this, you know that? It’s clear you were born defective. Without a conscience and—” I slammed the door shut on her tirade and watched her eyes blast open through the window at the insult I just delivered.

She had some nerve!

Her outrage was expected, but already exhausting. The moment I slid behind the wheel, she started off on all the wonderful things she had to say to me.

“I hope you realize this farce of a marriage won't last twenty-four hours,” she said, her voice shaking with rage. “My brothers will tear you apart for this.”

I snorted and started driving. “Your brothers couldn't tear apart a wet paper bag. Besides, my sister wouldn’t let them kill me, you know?”

“You insufferable, egotistical asshole!” Her voice rose to a near-scream. “Do you honestly think this is going to work? I’m going to make this so damn hard you’re going to have to deliver me back to my family yourself. Just you wait and watch.”

“Trust me, sweetheart.” I shook my head and let out a low whistle. “I don’t expect this to be easy.”

“I’m going to find a lawyer. I will make them go to a judge and prove I signed nothing.”

“You put your fingerprint on that paper all by yourself,” I replied, driving toward Manhattan.

“After you manipulated me! After you pretended to care about my injury!”

I shrugged, knowing I'd been a bit underhanded. But what did she expect? This was war.

“Why are you doing this?” she demanded after a moment of seething silence. “What do you hope to gain? You don't want me. You don't even know me.”

I turned to look at her, wondering how many times I had to explain this. “It's nothing personal, Elena. Your brother took my sister. Now I've taken his.”

“You haven't 'taken' anything,” she snapped. “I'm not a possession. And this isn't some medieval blood feud. This is the twenty-first century, for God's sake.”

“Tell that to your brother. He started this.”

“They fell in love, you thick-headed moron! It wasn't some plot against you .”

Her words dug under my skin, crawling there as though to be acknowledged for the truth they carried, despite my best efforts to remain detached.

“It’s too late now,” I said, stating the obvious situation we had on hand.

“You know what you are? A bitter, middle-aged man-baby who can't accept that his sister grew up and made her own choices.”

I nearly swerved the car at that one. “Man-baby?” I repeated incredulously.

“Did I stutter?” she shot back.

“No, you called—” I groaned and shook my head, bit my tongue. Was I seriously justifying her words? Entering into this argument?

No chance. She had a wild mouth on her, that one. There was nothing I could have said to make her understand.

I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to tell her exactly what I thought of her and her entire family. But no, I needed to stay calm. This was just the beginning, and if her words were already getting to me, I was in for a long night.

“You're just lucky I'm not the monster you think I am,” I said evenly. “Had I been anyone else, he would have done much worse than marry you.”

“Oh, my hero,” she drawled. “Should I swoon now? Maybe bat my eyelashes and thank you for not dumping my body in the Hudson?”

Despite myself, I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. She had fire. I had to give her that. But I also knew that if I fired back, I’d be the one taking bullets, so I chose to stay mute.

We lapsed into silence when she realized I was no longer willing to entertain her rant. Every few minutes, I'd catch her glaring at me through the mirror, or fidgeting with the door, probably plotting her escape. She was wasting her energy. I had the child lock on.

Finally, I pulled into the private garage beneath my building in Tribeca. As I opened her door, she sat stubbornly in place, arms crossed over her chest.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” I told her. “You’d rather be carried up like a sack?”

“Fuck you.”

“Hard way it is.” I reached in and hauled her out by her arm and was about to plant my hands around her waist when she jerked back.

“You really are a stubborn bastard, aren't you?” she hissed, but she walked when I walked. I guessed the whole being carried up thing didn’t go down too well.

“Wise choice,” I said, punching in the code for the penthouse, making sure she couldn’t see.

As the elevator doors slid closed, she at least stopped her efforts to break free since there was nowhere for her to go.

She was stuck with me in the small space, and I suddenly realized just how small it was.

I could smell her perfume, the remnants of the club we had both partied at just hours ago. It was... distracting.

“If you think I'm going to just accept this, you're even dumber than you look,” she said, her eyes flashing with defiance.

I leaned in closer, unable to help myself. “And how do I look, Elena?”

For a split second, surprise flickered across her face before she masked it with disgust. “Like a self-important jackass who thinks his arrogance makes up for his personality.”

I laughed, genuinely amused. “You don't know anything about my personality.”

“I know enough,” she retorted. “You're the kind of man who kidnaps women and forces them into marriage. That tells me everything I need to know.”

“Guess your brother is the same,” I shrugged, and she glowered, knowing she lost that one.

The elevator doors opened directly into my penthouse, and I gently pushed her forward into the foyer. She stumbled slightly, probably because of those ridiculous heels she was wearing, and I automatically reached out to steady her. She jerked away from my touch like I'd burned her.

“Don't touch me,” she warned.

I raised my hands in mock surrender. “As you wish.” I gestured around us. “Welcome to your new home.”

She barely glanced at my penthouse, her eyes automatically darting to the front door.

“Don't bother,” I said, reading her thoughts.

She whirled on me, her face flushed with anger. “So, I'm a prisoner?”

“Well, yes,” I deadpan.

“You’re nuts, you know that? Someone should lock you up.”

“Well, they haven’t, and you’re here now,” I replied simply. “So you might as well make yourself comfortable.”

Without warning, she sprinted past me for the front door, her hand reaching for the panel beside it. I was there in an instant, catching her around the waist and pulling her back against my chest.

“Let me go!” she yelled, struggling against my grip.

“Not a chance,” I said, my voice low in her ear. “You're not going anywhere.”

She went still for a moment, and I could feel her rapid heartbeat where my arm wrapped around her. Then she stomped her heel directly onto my foot.

“Son of a bitch!” I released her, hopping back.

She took advantage of my momentary distraction to make another dash for the door, frantically pressing buttons on the panel.

“It won't work,” I said through gritted teeth, the pain in my foot sharpening my irritation. “You need a fingerprint and a six-digit code.”

“Open this door right now,” she demanded, facing me.

“No.”

“I swear to God, Gastone, if you don't let me out of here—”

“You'll what?” I stepped closer, towering over her. “What exactly do you think you're going to do?”

She lifted her chin. “I'll make your life a living hell.”

“Oh, I have no doubt,” I said. “But your family trained me well enough to deal with hell.”

“Oh, poor baby,” she mocked. “Did someone hurt your feelings? Is that why you're acting like a complete psychopath?”

I leaned in until we were almost nose to nose. “Careful, Elena. You're pushing your luck.”

“And you're pushing my patience, you overgrown, tantrum-throwing, dictatorial man-child.”

Her words were like matches, igniting something dangerous inside me. The alcohol from earlier was wearing off, leaving me with a dull headache and a shorter fuse than usual.

“Are you done?” I asked quietly.

“Not even close, you self-serving, vengeful jerk. You think this hurts my brother? All this does is prove what kind of coward you really are.”

“Coward?” I repeated, feeling my control slipping.

“Yes, coward. A real man would have faced Giovanni directly, not gone after his sister like some sniveling, backstabbing—”

I cut her off by grabbing her wrist. “Enough.”

Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn't back down. “Truth hurts, doesn't it?”

Those eyes. Those goddamn hazel eyes, flashing with righteous anger. And those lips, full and pink and currently curled in a sneer as she threw every insult she could think of at me. Despite my rage, I found myself staring at her mouth, wondering what it would taste like if I just...

No. What the hell was wrong with me? I shook my head, trying to clear it.

“You done with your little tantrum?” I asked, my voice rougher than I intended.

“Tantrum?” She laughed incredulously. “That's rich coming from the king of overreactions. What next, Gastone? Going to put me in time-out? Take away my toys?”

“Don't tempt me,” I growled, still holding her wrist.

She stepped closer, until her chest was flush against mine, and I feared she could hear my heart race, which was now picking up speed. “Or what?” she challenged, her breath warm against my lips, too dangerously close. “What are you going to do to me that you haven't already done?”

We stared at each other for a long, charged moment, the air between us crackling with tension. I found myself noticing things I had no business noticing—the flecks of gold in her eyes, the flush spreading across her cheeks, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

She must have sensed something changing because she suddenly pulled back, looking confused and wary.

“Stay away from me,” she said, taking another step back.

I released her wrist, needing some distance myself. “Gladly. Your room is down the hall.”

“My prison cell, you mean?”

“Call it whatever you want. It has a bed, a bathroom.” I paused. “You can do whatever you want in this apartment. I'm not going to restrict your movements. But you can't leave.”

“How generous of you,” she said sarcastically. “The five-star kidnapping experience.”

My patience, already thread-thin, finally snapped. “That's it. I've had enough of your mouth for one night.”

Before she could react, I grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her over my shoulder.

“Put me down!” she shrieked, pounding her fists against my back. “You absolute Neanderthal!”

I ignored her and carried her straight to the guest bedroom. She wasn't heavy but was certainly solid, all curves and warmth against me.

“When my brothers find out about this—”

“They'll do nothing,” I finished for her, pushing open the door to the guest room. I walked straight to the bed and dumped her unceremoniously onto it.

She bounced once, her hair a wild tangle around her face, her dress riding up to reveal more of her thighs than she probably intended. I averted my eyes, annoyed at myself for noticing.

“You're insane,” she said, scrambling to stand.

“And you're exhausting,” I replied, backing toward the door. “Get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning and hopefully, by then, you'll run out of creative insults.”

“Not likely, you domineering, arrogant, pig-headed—”

“Good night, Elena, and give that filthy mouth a rest, will you?” I cut her off, stepping into the hallway.

“This isn't over, Ajello!” she called after me.

In answer, I slammed the door shut.