Page 69 of Arranged Marriage to the Brutal Bratva King
I’ll think about it,I type.
Don’t think too long. The walls close in fast in that world. Once you’re completely isolated, we won’t be able to reach you again.
The message feels like a countdown. A ticking clock on whatever autonomy I have left.
I power the phone off, hide it in the back of the closet behind clothes I’ll probably never wear, and climb into bed with my pulse still racing.
This is dangerous. Potentially suicidal.
Dimitri would kill me if he found out. Or worse—would look at me with that particular disappointment that cuts deeper than anger.
He doesn’t get to make every decision. Doesn’t get to control every aspect of my life just because he forced me into marriage.
***
Sleep doesn’t come easily.
I lie in the dark, replaying the evening over and over. Elena’s barbs that I’d deflected with surprising success. The respect I’d seen in people’s eyes when I stood my ground. The way Dimitri had looked at me—pride mixing with possessiveness in ways that made my stomach flutter despite everything.
Dimitri’s violence wasn’t physical. He didn’t lash out, didn’t even threaten him beyond the implicit danger of his presence. Just made it abundantly clear that touching me came with consequences nobody could afford.
The whole room had watched. Had seen Dimitri Rudenko lose his carefully maintained control over something as simple as a hug.
Had seen exactly how possessive he is. How dangerous.
It should have terrified me.
Instead, some twisted part of me had felt… seen. Claimed. Important enough to provoke that kind of reaction.
Around 2:00 a.m., I hear footsteps in the hallway. They pause outside my door—I can see the shadow in the gap underneath, blocking the light.
Dimitri, checking on me.
Or maybe just reminding me he’s there. That locked doors don’t actually keep him out if he decides he wants in.
The shadow lingers for a long moment, then retreats.
I exhale slowly, not realizing I’d been holding my breath.
Part of me wanted him to come in. To push past the lock and the anger and the boundaries I’m trying to maintain. To remind me how easily he breaks down my defenses when he wants to.
Part of me is relieved he didn’t.
That he’s giving me the space I asked for, even though we both know it’s temporary.
Tomorrow, we’ll fight. Tomorrow, he’ll outline his rules and I’ll resist and we’ll clash the way we always do.
Tomorrow, I’ll have to decide if I’m actually going to work with whoever left that phone, or if it was a moment of fury-driven stupidity I need to walk back from immediately.
Chapter Eighteen - Dimitri
The change starts small.
So subtle I almost miss it.Almost.
The morning after the event, Janice emerges from the guest suite where she spent the night.
I’m in the kitchen, pretending to read the news on my tablet while actually waiting for her to appear. She moves through the space like I’m not there—pours coffee, examines the fruit bowl, stands by the window with her back to me.
