Page 13 of Arranged Marriage to the Brutal Bratva King
Chapter Four - Dimitri
I watch her sleep.
Sunlight creeps through the windows I forgot to close, painting gold across her bare shoulders, the curve of her hip beneath expensive sheets. Her hair fans across the pillow, chestnut strands catching light, and her breathing is slow and even.
Peaceful.
She has no idea what I’ve done. What being here, in my bed, wearing the marks I left on her skin, will cost her.
I should have stopped this weeks ago. Should never have sent that first text, never have taken her to the races, never have brought her back here and touched her like I had the right. Every choice I’ve made since that warehouse event has been the wrong one, and I’ve made them anyway.
Because I wanted to.
She looked at me like I was a man instead of a monster, and I was selfish enough to let myself believe it.
I ease out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake her. My body aches with unfulfilled need—stopping last night took every ounce of control I possess—but I don’t regret it. If I’d taken her completely, there would be no walking away. No clean break. I would have bound her to me in ways neither of us could undo.
This way, she’s still salvageable.
I dress in the half-light, watching her the entire time. Memorizing the slope of her shoulder, the soft part of her lips, the way her fingers curl against the pillow. Storing details I have no right to keep.
The note I leave is brief. Cruel, even. Cruelty is kinder than hope.
The driver will take you home. This can’t happen again.
I stare at the words for a long moment before forcing myself to leave them there and walk out.
Felix is waiting in my office when I arrive at seven.
Of course he is.
“You went home with someone last night,” he says without preamble.
“I’m aware.”
“The girl?”
I don’t answer. Don’t need to. Felix’s expression tells me he already knows. “Damien wants to see you. This afternoon.”
My jaw tightens. “About?”
“He didn’t say. Someone mentioned your… distraction… during the Volkov negotiations on Friday. If word reached Damien—”
“It’s handled.”
“Is it?” Felix’s pale eyes are too sharp, too knowing. “From where I’m standing, you’ve spent the last three weeks circling an intern who has no protection, no connections, and no understanding of what you are. That’s not handling it, Dimitri. That’s courting disaster.”
“I said it’s handled.”
“Then handle it.”
He leaves, and I’m alone with the weight of what I already know. Felix is right. Damien is right. The Bratva doesn’t tolerate weakness, and I’ve shown nothing but weakness since the moment Janice Woods walked into that warehouse.
Wanting her is a liability. Keeping her is impossible. So, the only option left is severance.
***
The meeting with Damien is exactly as brutal as I expect.
