Page 4 of The Pakhan’s Forced Bride (West Coast Bratva Pakhans #3)

She wakes slowly, her eyes fluttering open and those gorgeous blue pools of light staring straight up at me. My heart skips a beat, my hand still on her shoulder, my thumb against the pulse of her neck.

I brush the pad of my thumb over her skin. So smooth, so soft. I want to push my hand up her throat and tilt her face up towards me, move those lips closer to mine.

“We’re in LA,” I say quietly, distracted, my eyes on those beautiful heart-shaped lips.

What the fuck are you doing, Ardalion? Snap out of it.

Her scent is on my skin as I stand up and turn my back on her.

Watching her sleep, I had an overwhelming urge to kiss her. Waking her up made it worse. I want to feel those perfect lips pressed against mine.

A ridiculous thought.

One I shove away as I push my hand through my hair and shake my head to free myself of whatever just happened.

LA. We’re home. My plan is running smoothly.

“Get up,” I snap, not looking at her.

It’s early hours of the morning, still an hour before sunrise. I’m operating on minimal sleep. I blame that for my distracted thoughts.

For a moment, I try to center myself. There’s something off about Belle.

Sure, she acts as any kidnapped woman might act.

She’s scared, timid, nervous—but there’s something going on, an undercurrent that doesn’t seem quite right.

It’s simmering just below the surface. But I can’t figure out what it is.

“I’m ready.” The quiet voice from behind me makes me turn to face her.

Her hair is still a mess from the couple of hours of sleep she managed to get.

I reach up and brush my fingers through it, bringing her caramel curls over one shoulder and tucking loose strands behind her ear.

All the while, her bright blue eyes are watching me.

When I realize what I’m doing, my eyes flare wide in annoyance, and I huff loudly. Who the hell cares if her hair is a mess?

She scrunches her nose, confused by my expression or my gentleness.

I’m confused by my gentleness.

I turn and walk out of the plane, expecting her to follow.

She does.

I wait at the car, holding the back door open until she climbs inside. Her hands are still tied, and she has to crawl across the seat to get in. Her ass wiggles as she does so, and my mind is off in the wrong direction again, but I can’t drag my eyes off that perfectly shaped ass.

She sits down with a tight smile, and I climb in next to her.

“Drive,” I snap, and the driver starts the engine.

We’re on our way home. Back in LA. My turf. My kingdom.

I should feel good.

But this feeling about Belle isn’t going away. She fired questions at me on the plane. I think it’s my turn to question her. What if she was planted here as a spy? It was far too easy to take her.

“Have you had training for this type of situation?” I ask.

She glances at me. “For getting surprise-married? It’s a bit hard to train someone for that.”

She’s sassy. I cock my head to the side and glare at her with malice written across my face. “Did you recognize me when I took you, Belle?” I growl quietly.

“Sheesh, we’ve already been through this—I apologized for not knowing who you were. I’m sorry it offended you so much. I know your name , but I had never seen your face before.” She’s agitated, shifting in her seat.

“How do you know my name?”

“Because my brother has mentioned you a number of times.” She shrugs. “I overhear conversations.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, watching her closely. She doesn’t like being put under the spotlight; the intensity of my stare is making her uncomfortable. She looks scared. But is she?

Either way, she’s a damn good actress if she isn’t.

Maybe I’m overthinking things. Everyone deals with stressful situations differently. I need sleep.

“There are rules at the mansion,” I tell her.

She nods meekly.

“You will do as I say at all times. You will stay within the walls of the mansion. My guards will be watching. You will not have access to a phone or the internet.” I list off some things I’ve implemented in preparation for her arrival.

“Your room is stocked with everything you might need. I don’t want to hear complaining or whining or bitching. ”

She pulls her mouth tight and turns away from me to look out the window of the car to watch LA pass by. I’ll take that as a yes.

We’re almost home. The driver turns onto the long strip of road that runs along the edge of the sea.

My mansion is on the shores of Venice Beach, with endless views of the ocean.

Three stories high, all the walls facing the sea are glass and raw concrete.

I wanted a seamless view and a modern, clean look to the architecture.

My sisters tell me the place looks ominous.

Kira said it looks like ‘brutalist architecture.’ I think it shows strength.

Wide open spaces, natural light, crisp corners, and clean edges. Gray and glass.

When we drive through the security gates and park outside the mansion, Belle’s face is practically glued to the window. I want to ask her what she thinks, whether my sisters were right or not. But instead, I climb out of the car in silence and gesture for her to follow.

Her eyes are wide as we walk towards the entrance. The corners of my lips curl into a satisfied smile. She looks as daunted as I want her to be.

Inside the mansion, I grab her wrists. She flinches away from me before she realizes what I’m doing.

Then she stands still, waiting for me to cut the ties. They fall to the floor at her feet, and she stares at them for a moment, rubbing her wrists where red marks have cut into her skin. Maybe I made them too tight, after all.

“Your room is upstairs. Follow me,” I command.

“This place is…“ Her voice trails off, and I wait tensely for her to finish saying what she wanted to say. She doesn’t.

I turn to glare at her. “Is what?” I snap. She looks at me in shock.

“Is what, Belle?” I demand.

“The way the early morning light dances through the glass. It’s, um, it’s really beautiful,” she mumbles.

That’s not what I was expecting.

“Thank you,” I mutter, unsure how to take her compliment.

Upstairs, I open her bedroom door and push her inside. “You’ll stay in here, Belle.” Her room is right down the hall from mine.

It faces the ocean. The entire far wall is glass, endless views. She hurries to admire it and stands there, struck by it for a moment. Morning light is glittering over the ocean. It’s magnificent, peaceful. I’ll never get bored of that view.

But this morning I’m not watching the ocean—I’m watching her, her lips parting and her eyes wide with fascination as she takes it all in. She really is beautiful. When she turns to glance at me over her shoulder, I look away, pretending I was busy with something else.

I pull open one of her closet doors. “Jeans, tracksuits, slacks, dresses, shoes—it’s all in your size.

” I close the door and point at the bathroom off the side of the room.

“Your own private bathroom. Also stocked. If there is something missing, tell the guard when he brings your food. He will inform me or the housekeeper, and we will arrange to get it for you.”

“I’ve never lived near the ocean before. This is incredible,” she says, still looking at the view.

I knit my brows. Incredible . Why would a prisoner call their prison cell incredible? Again, that suspicion churns.

“ I’m glad you like it, because you aren’t allowed to leave this room, Belle. Under no circumstances, unless I am with you. Do you understand?”

She nods, and for a moment I think she’s going to roll her eyes, but she doesn’t. What is it about her? Is she afraid? Why doesn’t it seem like she is?

I hesitate before I leave, standing with my back to her in the open doorway. Shaking my head, I push aside my worries and pull the door closed. It clicks, confirming the lock is engaged. Just to be sure, I wiggle the handle to check it. Locked.

There’s no point in asking her to ease my suspicions about her . I should instead give Drake a call and see what he has to report since I left Las Vegas. He stayed behind to make sure things were going the way I wanted them to.

I walk away from her door, pulling my phone from my back pocket as I head downstairs to check that the housekeeper is putting together something for Belle to eat. I stole her from her dinner date, and she must be hungry.

In the kitchen, Tamia is making toasted cheese and bacon sandwiches.

“You’ll deliver one to our guest?” I ask.

She nods. “Yes, sir.”

“And you know the rules. Lock the door behind you. And you may as well find out now if she has any dietary preferences that the chef should know about.”

“Yes, sir.”

Satisfied, I dial Drake.

“Drake.”

“Boss. You back in LA? Everything goes okay?” he answers the call in his usual upbeat voice.

“We’re at the mansion. All good. What can you tell me? My suspicions about her being a planted target haven’t gone away. I’m hoping you can clear it up for me.” I’m eager to get right to the point.

“She was really easy to snatch. I know it makes it look suspicious, but nothing points to it being a planned situation on their side. Her brother is in a rage. He’s furious.

Panicked. The kind of panic you can’t fake.

He’s already started a search, and a lot of the allies are involved.

No one has mentioned your name. They’re looking at some enemies from further south.

There’s apparently a guy in Phoenix they suspect. ”

I chuckle. “That’s good news. Leave two of your men in Las Vegas to keep an ear to the ground; you can come home.”

“I’ll leave tomorrow morning. I want to make sure the team I leave here is fully prepped before I go.”

“Good. See you then.”

It’s better than good news. It’s excellent. He doesn’t even suspect me, which makes this even more fun. It’s his own fault for continuing to underestimate me. He’ll go on a wild goose chase after someone else and come up frustrated. The best thing I can do now is torture him with my silence.