Page 10 of The Pakhan’s Arranged Bride (West Coast Bratva Pakhans #2)

The day after the explosion at the warehouse, Benedikt has to leave for work early. There’s still a lot of work to do to clean it up and recover from the damage.

Before he leaves, I am still sleeping, exhausted from the shock of what happened, but he comes to gently wake me up.

“Ulyana?” he says my name, just a whisper.

His hand brushes down my back, and I stir awake, looking up at him as he leans over me, the fuzzy blur of sleep still covering me.

“Mm,” I moan sleepily, wishing he was lying in bed next to me with his arms around me.

“I have to go now,” he says.

I wake up fully, blinking away the daydreams of standing naked in the shower with him.

“Oh,” I murmur, trying to sit up.

“No, don’t get up, relax. I just wanted to check on you before I left.”

My heart tightens, confused. Last night he was so angry and so sweet.

“I’m fine, thanks,” I say, rubbing my eyes.

“Alright. I won’t be home too late. If you want anything specific for dinner just let the chef know.”

“Okay.”

He smiles, hesitating before he moves away from the bed.

“Have a good day. Call if you need anything.”

“You too,” I say, watching him leave, wondering if he expects me to stay in the house while he’s gone. We didn’t finish that conversation, and he was pretty adamant about me not being allowed out.

He’s going to be disappointed when he realizes I have no intention of obeying that. I refuse to be a prisoner in this marriage. It’s not even a real marriage.

I stretch my legs out under the blankets, pointing my toes like a ballerina and arching my back as I yawn.

My body hurts from being thrown by the aftershock of the explosion.

I can’t even imagine how much pain some of those men are in today.

My heart breaks for them. What a horrible thing to go through.

I’m happy I could help. I feel like I did something good there.

Even if Miron got away, I will find him again. Somehow.

Climbing out of bed, I wiggle out of my comfy clothes and into a pair of jeans. I can’t stop thinking about how gentle Benedikt was when he washed me last night.

Even in my shocked state, I was hyperaware of how incredibly sexy he was, how his body was absolute perfection. But he was a complete gentleman, taking care of me, making that his priority over everything else.

When we argued on the bed, and he pinned me down I thought he was definitely going to kiss me—and I wanted him to. Badly.

I was ready to lift my lips to his when he pulled away, and honestly, I’m grateful he did, even if I’m still pulsing with desire the next morning.

I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to trust my own decisions.

And I’m still so angry with him about the fight.

I won’t stay at home. I won’t stay trapped in this house.

For how long?

Does he never want me to go anywhere?

No.

I have a life to live, things to do.

Even though the only place I would technically want or need to go right now would be to look for Miron, and I have no leads to do that, I still want to go out just to make a point of not accepting his demands.

So, once I’m dressed, I make my morning coffee in one of the stainless steel travel mugs and head out to my car, which Benedikt somehow arranged to get back here, even after all the chaos yesterday. I have no particular destination in mind.

Guilt pushes into me as I duck into the driver’s seat.

Why did he have to fight with me, but still be so kind?

It’s confusing.

I’m not sure at what point I decide, but I find myself driving to visit his sister, Belle.

I don’t know anyone else whom I can talk to, and I need to talk about the fight we had.

Maybe she can give me some perspective on how to handle him.

I know my own brother better than most people, so I assume she is as close to Benedikt.

If anyone can give me insight into how he thinks, it’s Belle.

***

Belle excitedly welcomes me into the house, happy that I chose to visit her.

“I’m just about to make pancakes. You chose the perfect time. Have you had breakfast yet?” she ushers me towards the kitchen.

“Not yet. Have you got honey?”

“Of course, and white chocolate sauce, that’s my fave.”

“I haven’t tried that. It sounds amazing.”

I sit on the edge of the kitchen counter, watching her move around the kitchen. “Where is your mom?”

“Out shopping maybe, I’m not sure. She left before I was awake.”

She pours pancake mixture into a hot pan coated with butter.

“I’m so glad you came to visit. You know you’re welcome here any time. How are things going with Ben?”

I laugh and roll my eyes.

She smirks and shakes her head. “Is he being annoying?”

“I don’t know. We kind of had a stupid fight last night.”

“I think it’s great that my brother finally has someone to have stupid fights with. A lover’s quarrel,” she teases.

“It doesn’t feel great. I’m still angry about it.”

“What happened? Was it bad?” Belle flips the pancake and turns to glance at me.

Was it bad? I consider her question. No, I don’t think so. It didn’t get nasty.

“Not really,” I shrug. “He’s just being so bossy. He tried to tell me I wasn’t allowed to leave the house without him. As though I’m his prisoner there.”

Belle giggles. “He’s being protective.”

“If that’s what you want to call it. I think he’s being an asshat.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“Not in those words,” I laugh. “We didn’t really finish the argument.”

“Honestly, I’m just happy to hear he has someone to have these silly little lovers’ quarrels with.”

“A lovers’ quarrel?” I say, confused.

“Of course, every relationship has its moments.”

She scoops the pancakes out of the pan and slides them onto a plate before pouring more mix into the pan.

“You know, my brother always had a massive fear of commitment. I know his reputation— the playboy —and maybe it’s true, but in his heart, it’s not who he really is. He’s a softie, with a lot of love to give. I don’t think he’d found the right person though—until he met you.”

I bite my lip.

She doesn’t know our marriage is a business arrangement. His mom and his sister both think we were dating in secret before we got engaged. She doesn’t know the truth about us.

Guilt sweeps over me, and I sigh softly.

“I mean it, you know,” Belle says, turning to face me. “My brother has changed since he met you—well, since he decided to tell us about you. I don’t know why he kept your relationship a secret before.” She rolls her eyes.

“How so, how do you think he’s changed?” I ask.

“He talks about you often when he calls to check in with me. You’re an important part of his life, Ulyana. These silly little fights don’t take away from that.”

She hands me a plate of pancakes along with the maple syrup and a bottle of white chocolate sauce in case I want to add that too.

“How was your brother with his other girlfriends?” I ask out of sheer curiosity.

“Pfft,” she huffs. “He never once brought a girl home. Why do you think my mother and I were so shocked when he came out of the blue, telling us he already had a fiancée?”

“You never met a single one of his girlfriends?” I say in disbelief.

“It’s not that I didn’t meet them. He literally never had any. He would tell me about a date here and there, but the next day when I called for an update he’d have some reason why she didn’t catch his attention enough. He never committed to anyone.”

She raises her brows, a cheeky smile on his lips. “Until you.”

“Was he overprotective of you, growing up?”

She snorts. “That’s an understatement. He drove me crazy.”

“Just like Nestor with me. Gosh, it’s like they’re trying to protect us from living ,” I laugh.

She lifts herself up onto the counter next to me and picks up the white chocolate sauce, pouring so much of it over her plate that I can’t even see the flapjacks anymore.

“Do you want some flapjack with your sauce?” I ask.

She nudges my shoulder with hers. “You sound just like Ben.” She rolls her eyes.

After a moment of quiet, each of us enjoying the breakfast, she thoughtfully says, “I think I know why my brother was so against dating.”

“You do?”

“When you’re as rich as he is, people tend to use you for your money.

Girls are obsessed with him. Who wouldn’t be.

He’s rich, powerful and good-looking. I think he forced himself not to get attached because he was afraid that no one wanted him for who he was, but rather for what he had.

It’s a horrible way to live, but what choice did he have. ”

She looks at me. “But your brother is as powerful as he is. He never had to worry about you loving him for his money or status.” She smiles. “That’s why he’s free to love you without that fear.”

As she talks on, telling me about how he was as a kid, the things he used to do to drive her crazy when she was little, I’m struggling with the weight of my guilt, getting heavier by the second. She speaks as though our relationship is real.

I’m lying to her, I’m lying to his mother, I’m even lying to him with the secrets I’m keeping.

I’m a terrible person.

Even if he’s lying to them as well, I’ll have to deal with my own karma for what I’m doing.

I hate being this way. I wish there had been another option for me to reach Miron, but there wasn’t. This was the first real opportunity I had. I thought, because we were both benefiting from the arrangement, that it would work out—but now that I’m here, doing it, I feel bad.

Belle is such a sweet girl. We get on so well, and if it weren’t for my lies, this could be a genuine friendship.

It is a genuine friendship—but I’m an asshole.

It’s not fair of me.

After breakfast, I tell her I have to get home before Benedikt pops in to check that I’m still there, and she laughs. The real reason I want to leave is that I’m struggling with my internal thoughts.

I also can’t figure out what happens after I get the revenge I’m so determined to have.

When this all started, I thought I’d just negotiate a divorce with Benedikt, but now I don’t want that. I don’t know what I want.

On the way home, I stop at the city park. I miss the beach and the natural beauty of San Francisco. Las Vegas is beautiful in its own way, but it’s all neon lights and loud noises.

I need a moment to think, and the park is the first place I can think of that isn’t drowning in electric lights.

Walking through the trees and past a gentle flowing stream with a carryout coffee in my hand, I watch people interacting with each other. Lovers, friends, families, children playing.

I wonder who I am to Benedikt.

He made it clear when he suggested the marriage to Nestor that it was for the benefit of appeasing his mother and building a stronger alliance with my family.

But since then, he hasn’t acted as though it’s just a marriage of convenience.

He’s been protective and possessive and caring.

And frustrating and bossy and aggravating.

I huff loudly, and a lady walking nearby turns to look at me curiously. I smile at her, then quickly turn away.

Walking back towards the car, I still can’t come to a solid answer about what is going on between Benedikt and me. I’m not ready to analyze it deeply enough.

Glancing at my watch, I realize it’s late afternoon by the time I climb into the car. I got lost in a daydream walking around the park, but I do feel better now. My head is clearer.

In my car, I put some music on and pull out into the street, driving slowly and enjoying the lively views around me. When I get home, I see Benedikt’s car in the driveway and groan. He’s going to be angry that I went out. Anxiety churns my stomach. I take a deep breath and push it away.

No.

I made it clear to him that I won’t be a prisoner here. Going on the day after the fight is a good thing. It sets my boundaries right away.

He’s just going to have to deal with it.

I won’t even hide from him; I’ll go and find him and say hello and make a point of asking how his day was.

Inside, the house is quiet. I peek into the kitchen, the living room, the library, our bedroom—eventually, I find Benedikt in his office. He’s asleep in the office chair, his arms folded over his chest and his head tilted backwards.

My heart flickers.

Yesterday was crazy for both of us and I never once asked him if he was okay.

Maybe it’s me who is the asshole. Not him.

I go through to our bedroom and pull the spare blanket off the bed and head back to the office to wrap it over him.

I gently pull it up over his legs and chest, letting out a sigh of frustration at myself. I wonder what it would have been like to meet him under different circumstances?

For a moment, I stare at his beautiful features, his dark lashes and ruffled dark chocolate hair.

The shadow of stubble over his face and his perfectly shaped jaw.

I drag my eyes off him, turning away.

But to my surprise, he grabs my wrist. I yelp in fright, and he still doesn’t let go.

His eyes are sharply focused on me, bright and intense as he watches me.

“Hello,” he says, his voice deep and husky from sleep.