Page 7 of The Pakhan’s Forced Bride (West Coast Bratva Pakhans #3)

I smirk as I watch her storm away from the gym. She’s found endless ways to turn down my invitations for her to join me at dinner, lunch, or breakfast. She’s making a point of avoiding me—and when she can’t avoid me, she makes a point of starting the most useless fights with me.

Still, I find her amusing.

Even as she stomps away now, huffing loudly and throwing her hands in the air as she mumbles, no doubt saying terrible things about me, I’m smiling.

She’s cute when she’s angry.

Earlier, I caught a glimpse of her on the security camera in the library.

It’s as though her intrusive thoughts get the better of her every time, and she can’t stop her playful nature from bursting out of her.

She ran straight at that sofa and dived on it, landing like a starfish in the center, giggling like she was having the best time.

I often hear her little giggles around the house. She thinks she hides it from me, but she smiles a lot. Belle is that type of person; like this mansion, she’s full of natural light. The warmth of the sun.

Her enjoyment of all the little things around her is infectious.

Even the staff are drawn to her, and I’ve noticed that she already knows each of them by name, stopping to talk to them whenever she passes them in the house. They share private jokes, and she treats them like friends.

And earlier, when I watched her walk into the sunroom, it reminded me of the day I first walked in there. The awe I felt.

I couldn’t tear my eyes off the security camera as it recorded her reaching her hand out and letting a rainbow of light splash across her fingers as she smiled beautifully.

She wears her emotions on her sleeve.

She glows with happiness, which is what I think makes her so damn cute when she’s feisty. Even her anger is sweet.

I’m trying to ignore her.

I’m trying not to be distracted by her.

But I’m finding it impossible, and in some ways, I’ve even given in to just accepting it. Why not find amusement or entertainment in her presence? Why not make the most of it? She’s a beauty to look at. And when she stops fighting with me all the time, we might even be able to have a conversation.

Tonight, though, whether she likes it or not, she is having dinner with me. I have a plan for asking her in a way she can’t refuse.

Flexing my shoulders, I roll my arms in circles, loosening the taut muscles after my gym session. She was watching me for longer than she wanted me to know. The idea of her eyes on me—it’s hard to ignore how my body reacts to her.

It was never my intention to want more from her, but since she’s been in my home, I can’t stop thinking about pinning her beneath me.

I grab my towel and walk through the house in my gym shorts.

It’s my tradition to jump in the ocean after a workout.

The salt water is packed with magnesium, and I can’t think of a better way to refresh my body after pushing it so hard.

Walking across the garden towards the gate that opens out directly on the stretch of private beach in front of my mansion, I can feel her eyes on me.

One glance over my shoulder and I spot her, up on the balcony of her bedroom. She’s standing in the sunshine, a gentle breeze teasing the edge of her dress. Mm. Maybe I can think of a better way to refresh my body. I’d do things to her she’s probably never experienced before.

I wink at her, and she throws me a sarcastic smile.

Guilt tugs at me for keeping her locked up all the time.

I’d hate to be stuck in one place like that.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll invite her to swim with me after the gym.

I have to be careful, though. The closer I let her get to me, the greater risk I put myself in.

It was never part of the plan. I never even intended to make her stay married to me forever.

It’s just revenge. A way to taunt her brother and let him know he’s not untouchable despite his ego.

Hanging my towel over the bench outside my gate, I walk barefoot across the warm white sand and into the water. It’s not too cold today.

I wade into the gentle waves until I’m thigh-deep, then dive in. Instantly, my body relaxes as the ocean embraces me, salt water coating my skin and soaking into my blood.

When I surface, I roll onto my back and float with my arms stretched out, my eyes on the bright blue sky, counting the clouds as the sun warms my cheeks.

It’s been a very long time since anyone managed to intrigue me. Belle’s done that. She’s caught my attention in the short time I’ve spent with her, and now she’s taking up space in my thoughts.

I want to know more about her, but she continues to push me away, despite getting on great with everyone else working in the house.

It’s fine.

Tonight she’ll have dinner with me. I know she won’t be able to turn me down this time.

After the swim, I don’t dry off right away. I sit on the bench watching the ocean while the sun dries my skin, leaving a layer of salt behind.

I spend most of my time alone. I’ve always thought it was a necessary tradeoff for having the position of power I have.

I am close to my sisters, but that’s the limit to people I unconditionally trust in this world.

Friends are scarce, even though I do have them.

Lovers are even rarer. Non-existent, actually.

I have flings , hundreds of women interested in me, but it’s been a lifetime since I last believed in love.

Women are vultures seeking power, money, or status—or all three.

They use me and I use them, discarding them as soon as I get what I want.

It’s a fair trade. They get the fancy dinners and the sparkling gifts and their moment in the spotlight that they so clearly crave, fake attention—and when it’s over, we both walk away unscathed.

But it gets boring. It feels empty. So, even that became more of a chore than an enjoyment, and I haven’t been on a date in ages.

***

It’s late evening when the chef informs me that dinner will be served in a few moments.

He’s an older gentleman, a brilliant chef who couldn’t keep up with the demands of the industry.

Long hours and stressful situations. As soon as I found out he wanted to leave the restaurant he worked at, I offered him a job.

He earns more now than he did there, and he works at his own pace, mostly cooking whatever he wants because I enjoy everything he makes.

“I’ve set the table for two,” he says.

“Thank you, Rio. You can go ahead and start plating. We’ll be there in a moment,” I say, heading up to Belle’s room to get her.

I pause at the door, then push it open. She’s lying on her stomach on the bed with her feet swinging behind her as she writes in a notebook.

“Don’t you knock?” she scolds me. “I could have been changing.”

“How disappointing that you weren’t,” I grin.

She scrunches her nose. “What do you want, Ardalion?”

“Come and join me for dinner. It’s ready,” I say.

“I already told you, I’m busy.” She turns back to her book.

I walk further into her room and look down at what she’s writing.

It’s a sketch, a portrait.

She slams the book closed before I have a proper chance to look, but from the brief glance I get, she’s good.

“Here’s the deal, Belle. You will join me for dinner, or I will kidnap your mother as well, and you two can share this room.” I gesture around her room as I watch her face.

The look of sheer horror that flashes across her eyes is unmistakable.

“You wouldn’t,” she whispers.

“I would.”

With a loud groan of annoyance, Belle flops her face onto the bed and grumbles something I can’t make out because her words are muffled by the blankets.

“Excuse me?” I say, leaning closer, amused.

She lifts her head and shoots me an angry glare. “I’ll be down in a minute,” she sighs.

“Great.”

***

She’s sitting opposite me in annoyed silence.

I notice that she braided her hair, pinned it over her shoulder, and put on a light shade of pink lipstick. She dressed up for dinner. How sweet.

“Do you like lamb?” I ask her as the chef carries our food in, steaming hot and filling the dining room with a rich aroma.

“Miss Belle loves lamb,” Rio answers on her behalf.

“Did you make that creamy mushroom sauce you told me about?” Belle asks him, smiling widely as he puts her plate in front of her.

“Of course, I did. And when you taste this lamb, you will have to guess what my secret ingredient is.” He grins, nods politely at me, and leaves.

Even the chef gets along with her.

Belle looks excited as she picks up her knife and fork, swinging her legs beneath the table, doing a little dance.

“Are you hungry?” I ask, smirking.

“A girl is allowed to be excited about good food,” she says defensively.

“I’m just glad that someone else can enjoy the luxury of Rio’s cooking with me. He’s brilliant.” I pick up the roast potatoes and hold the dish towards her. “Do you want potatoes, or would you prefer some salad?”

Her eyes rise up and she stares at me as though she’s waiting for me to say something else. I cock my head to the side, waiting for her answer.

She pouts and then blurts out, “There is nothing wrong with wanting potatoes. I don’t have to survive off salad. All you men are the same.” She stands up and grabs the potatoes from me, putting two wedges on her plate.

I’m a little stunned by her outburst, not fully understanding what it means.

When she shoves the bowl back into my hand and sits down with a huff, I find that I can’t look away.

After a while, I lift another roast potato wedge and put it on her plate as well. “Rio will be offended if you only have two. His roast potatoes were featured in one of the top food magazines once. He’ll tell you all about it if you let him.” I chuckle. “Salt?”

She narrows her eyes at me.

“Yes, please,” she says cautiously.

“Wait till you see what he made for dessert. I asked for it specifically because I knew you’d be joining me tonight. I’d have it for breakfast if I could. Do you have a sweet tooth?”

She pulls her mouth to the side and raises her brows at me. “Obviously,” she huffs, gesturing over her body.

I chuckle, enjoying her humor.

“I have a bit of a chocolate addiction,” I remark, as my knife slides through the lamb and it falls from the bone.

“Are you taunting me?” she snaps.

“How would my chocolate addiction be a taunt towards you?”

“Men have found all sorts of ways to make comments about my weight.” She looks upset, angry even. Is it just that she really doesn’t like me, or is this a topic that genuinely bothers her?

“About your weight? Why would men have a right to comment on your body?” I ask, confused, trying to understand where she’s coming from.

“Oh, please, I’m not the stereotype of what men want. They like to remind me of that.”

Anger sears through me at the audacity of whoever dared to make her feel like she wasn’t the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.

“Fuck them,” I growl, looking away from her to hide the flare of rage in my eyes.

“What?” she asks, shocked at my response.

“Fuck them. They can want what they want. I have a personal preference for a woman with curves. Each person is attracted to what they’re attracted to, but that doesn’t give them the right to belittle someone who doesn’t fit their requirements of beauty.

So, fuck them. And I’m pretty damn sure that not one of those men would have been able to handle you the way you deserve to be handled,” I smirk.

Her cheeks flush bright pink, and she presses her heart-shaped lips together as she looks down at her plate, pretending to be focused on her food.

But I keep watching, and her lips curl into a soft smile, her cheeks still rose pink.

What starts out as a tense dinner conversation slowly evolves into relaxed banter. She doesn’t miss a beat when it comes to teasing me about anything at all, and when I tease her back, she seems to take it well.

Desert is a salted caramel tart on a bed of crushed Biscoff biscuits with white chocolate sauce dripped over it.

And Belle’s enjoyment makes it ten times better than it’s ever been.

I watch her lips as they wrap around the dessert spoon as she slowly pulls it from her mouth. My cock stirs beneath the table.

She closes her eyes as she takes the first bite, letting it melt in her mouth for a moment. A soft moan escapes her as she swallows and licks her lips. Fuck. She’s driving me crazy.

By the end of dessert, I’m on the edge of self-control, wanting to drag her over this table and have my way with her right here.

Dinner ends, and I walk her to her room.

She’s smiling and talking happily about Rio’s cooking, asking me what he’s making tomorrow night.

“What do you want him to make tomorrow night? What’s your favorite food?” I ask.

“It’s so hard to pick just one. But I’ve been craving seafood curry.”

“Then he will be making seafood curry,” I grin.

She turns her face away, almost shy, as we reach her bedroom door.

I can’t hide the mischievous smile on my face as I press my hand above the doorframe and look down at her.

Beautiful. Dangerously beautiful.

“You could join me in my bed tonight, Belle,” I tease.

Her lips part ever so slightly, and she takes in a soft breath. I watch her eyes flare with desire as she glances over me. She bites her lower lip, narrowing her eyes at me.

“Keep dreaming about it, Ard,” she says with confident sass, then slams the door in my face.

I burst out laughing, stepping back, lucky I wasn’t leaning further into the doorway or my nose might be stinging right about now.

Fuck. She’s a tease.